SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 39

"You have six days, sweetheart. Say your goodbyes, water your plants and get home."

"You're coming off as desperate, Mr. King. But I'll amuse you, what happens when the time runs out? Will it be the end of 2012 all over again? A zombie apocalypse? What happens?"

"You're very funny."

"You didn't laugh, I guess I should work on my jokes."

He was quiet on the other end of the phone and then: "Keep your phone on. I'll call again tomorrow."

***

5th July 2016:

"That life is in the past. It's yesterday. It's in the rear view mirror and I have washed my hands and dried them in the same second. You're tiring me with your demands to return to a life that has reached its expiration date. For God sake, Cole, I go to church on Sundays with my grandmother and I don't even believe in the concept of a god. Do me this favour. Show kindness for once in your life and leave. Me. Alone."

"I miss you."

I...didn't expect that. And the silence on his end told me he regretted putting his foot in his mouth. It was a moment of regret. Accidental. I sighed and moved around my jaw, furrowing my brow and trying to think of a response. I didn't need him. I was doing great without him in my life and I was happy. For once I was happy and I could smile for the first time in almost a year without it falling in the next couple of seconds. I wasn't getting drunk and having dirty sex in the kitchen and hating myself afterwards. Because it should've made me feel empowered, I was in control of my body and sex was a form of expression and it was the wrong time, the wrong place with the...wrong person.

"Cole," I began tentatively, and then pushed a hand through my hair, dragging my fingers to the very end. It was tangled and needed a thorough brush through. "I ... just don't care. I'm sorry. Well, I'm not sorry. Stop calling. Delete my number. Move on." I pressed the end call button and then tossed my phone to the side.

***

6th July 2016:

There was no phone call today.

***

7th July 2016:

"Did you see the picture I sent?"

"You son of a bitch."

"I kept it for insurance. Just in case you ever decided to go rogue or wag your tongue to the wrong people. Or say, run away. It's currently tucked away in a tool box. Find it and it's yours. You can destroy the evidence. Put an end to this and no one will ever find out you killed that man."

"It was self-defence–"

"What makes you think a jury will believe that? It's been months. The innocents don't run, and they don't hide away. You see, the guilt eats away at them, it gives them nightmares, they leave clues whether they know it or not, because they want to be caught. It's a waiting game. Their thoughts are paranoid and their actions are suspicious. They need to be punished for the sake of their own sanity. You are guilty and you will be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive and at the very least you'll be charged with accessory to murder. You helped your father get away. That's criminal. He is a murderer." Cole laughed shortly and then continued on spitefully. "Like father, like daughter. Wouldn't you agree?"

"You dickless cunt," I rubbed my face in aggravation and paced the floor of my bedroom, making sure to keep my voice low. My chest was jam-packed with rage and ready to explode and splatter my guts over my white bedsheets. "You murder for a living and suddenly you're a self-righteous, god-fearing, law-abiding––"