Fear Games

8. Too Little, Too Late

"HE CALLED YOU a whore," Elijah said as he stared at the note. "Classy."

Elijah, Esme, Isaiah, Ryan, and I all met up at the local park later that evening. After calling them all for an immediate emergency, they now saw why. Noah was alive and he was coming after us. It was only a matter of time he went after them, too.

"Yeah, well, I've been called worse," I muttered. "So what are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure," Ryan said, examining the note. "At least this confirms our suspicion that Noah knew Ivy. He's definitely trying to kill people that he knows."

"But you didn't know Noah," I said. When everyone stared at me, I asked, "What?"

"I actually think I might have known him," Ryan said. "It was something I figured out the other day. I was looking through one of my old middle school yearbooks and found him. We went to school together."

Damn it, I thought. Noah not knowing Ryan was the only thing that could have potentially made Noah not really be the killer. "So...that's really it then. Noah's definitely the killer."

"Yeah, and he's pretty pissed," Isaiah said. "All I know is that I'm ready for this to be over. And the best way for this to end is if we just go to the police."

"I agree with Isaiah," Esme said. "I want this to end, and the only way that'll happen is if we go to the police and let them handle this."

"Or that could just make him even angrier, which I honestly doubt we want," I said. I grabbed the note from Ryan and said, "I'm going to head home. In the meantime, let's not do anything just yet. This feels very personal. Getting the police involved might not be the best idea."

Before any of them could argue, I headed off toward my car. I needed time to think about everything. I also really needed some sleep.

***

The next morning was fairly normal. It was a Saturday, so I thankfully didn't have school. I slept in until about 11, which my parents got more lenient about ever since I returned from Fear Games. I finally crawled out of bed, went to the bathroom, then headed back into my room. My phone lit up with a new message. It was from Ryan.

Hey. Hope you're feeling alright. The rest of us decided if you want to stay out of this, you can. No pressure. We're going to the police later this afternoon. Message me when you're awake.

It was really sweet of him to suggest I stay out of it, but he and I both knew I couldn't. This was my problem. Probably more mine than it was his. I texted him back telling him I'd see him later, then went downstairs to go find my parents. Neither of whom were home.

"Great," I said to myself. "Just fantastic."

A knock on the front door made me jump. When I looked to see who it was, I sighed. I pulled open the door and said, "Can I help you?"

Isaiah stood there watching me. "Can I come in?"

I moved out of the way, allowing him to enter. He walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. He was wearing black jeans and a teal and white plaid shirt. He looked pretty good, but I still never liked him like that. Never could. I knew that disappointed him, but there wasn't much to say. At least he tried.

"How are you?" Isaiah asked.

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I stood in front of him and asked, "So can I help you with anything in particular?"

"Yes, actually," he said nonchalantly. "I wanted to talk to you about us. And Ryan."

My interest piqued. "Oh really? And what exactly would you like to talk about?"