SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 49.5

SO COLD

Misery started in my breastbone, spreading to my ribs like a tumour, my chest tightened, the fat sucked out by anguish and despair, I tried breathing, there was a blockage in my throat, and nothing would reach my lungs. No air. I was silently suffocating on grief. My eyes popped out of my sockets, fixed on their crimson stains on the bedsheet. Was that his blood? I choked on a sob. Where was Seth? My knees felt wobbly, I couldn't hold myself up–

"I spilt strawberry juice on my bed covers. Don't tell Grandma, will you?"

I twisted around so fast my gaze was unfocussed at first, and then focussing...Seth frowned at me, a white cloth in his hand, wearing a black Pokémon t-shirt, blue jeans, and the side of his head trimmed. Relief detonated inside of me. I squeezed him to my chest, finally being able to breathe again. I blinked back smarting tears, thinking about the horror that was downstairs: Grandma and her third eye. Jesus Christ, how do I even begin explaining it to Seth?

Seth patted my back and then pulled away, befuddled and concerned. "You're crying. What's the matter?"

"Stay in here, lock the door. Don't come out unless I tell you to," I herded him into his room. I needed to quickly check the rest of the house. I couldn't be sure we were safe despite how quiet the house was.

He tried digging his heels in, worrying. "What happened? Is dad here?"

"Don't come out unless I call you," I held his gaze, "I'm serious, Seth. Stay in this room, you got that?"

"I'll call the police. We can wait together in my room, you don't have to do whatever you're going to do. What do I do if you get hurt?" He added, suddenly remembering. "What about Grandma?"

"I'll tell you when I get back," I promised, wishing I could take it back. I waited until I heard the lock click, and then scurried to Isiah's study. I rounded the corner to his desk, squatted down, and glided my hand against the smooth wood until I felt the spare key. It was stuck on the underbelly of the desk by sticky tape. Shoving it into the lock, I yanked open the drawer and discovered the semiautomatic Cole had gifted me. The sunlight hit the silver as I held up.

I downed a shot of determination, anger running through my veins. It had to be my father. Who else could it be? He was a vindictive, twisted fucker. I was on a hunt, I searched the bathrooms, bedrooms, closets, wardrobes, spaces under the beds, swept my gaze across the wide flat surface of the back garden. My finger lusted after the trigger; I was implacable, revenge-driven, I wanted to stare my grandmother's murderer in the eye as I took their life.

If I were honest with myself, I pictured my father in my head, I was hunting him. The game spun. The world was a dystopian ruin, the natural order had to be changed, the gazelle was after the lion. I was going to slaughter the sonafabitch.

A heart wrenching scream disturbed the hazy red fog around my head, I jolted, the hairs on the back of my neck raising. It was Seth. I sprinted inside the house, past the kitchen, yelling his name, and came to a sudden halt by the doorway of the living room, my limbs failing me, the tightness in my chest like a boa constrictor around my lungs.

Police sirens blared around the neighbourhood, red and blue flashing lights interrupting the bright summer's day, past traffic, kids on bicycles, teenagers with ice cream dribbling down their hand.

Seth was sobbing, and the sight was painful. I reached for him, trying to turn him away from grandma and her look of horror, the terror in her lifeless eyes, and he shoved me away, a strangled word escaping his mouth. "No!" All the fight left him, his shoulders slumped. He broke down completely. I pulled him away into my arms, my words empty and as comforting as a stranger's unwanted touch on a train. He cried on my shoulder. I felt helpless.