High School Hit List (CLIQUE BAIT)

41. beer pong and pinot noir

It was quiet in my bed room. I hadn't bothered to turn the light on, so it had slowly grown dark. My parents weren't home. My stomach was rumbling. I couldn't think straight, or even see straight. My eyes were glazed with a layer of tears. Not for my best friend, or for my grief, but because I just didn't know what to do.

So I called him.

Weak, a voice hissed in my brain. An ice cold tear overflowed and slipped down my cheek, too fast for me to stop it.

"Hello?" William answered. Then he must have remembered what was happening. "Chloe, did you get into the hard drive? Did you watch it?"

I nodded, but then I realized that wasn't enough. My voice was shaking, and distant, as if it were muffled by a thick blanket. "Yeah, I watched it."

The line fell silent, and my vision fixated on the letters in the bin. Would I ever write to her again? It would feel so stupid, now that I'd seen her last night of existence. The last night before her body fell cold and her funeral started to be planned.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said. And then the line went dead.

"Okay," I said into the quiet space.

My skin was cold, and my lips were dry. Every time I blinked I was confronted with a red-headed girl blowing kisses at a camera. But every time I didn't, the tears kept coming. So I started counting to distract myself, focusing on each syllable which made up each number which made up each minute.

The doorbell chimed downstairs, and it took a moment for me to work out how my mind controlled my actions and I could rise to my feet. I didn't know why the video had so much of an impact on me. I already knew the ending. It was nothing new.

Maybe I was still clinging to the fairy-tale fantasy that she'd walk out of that room. But now I had no way to escape it. She hadn't.

I opened the door timidly, not sure whether to tame the feelings of desperation that were pulling at my chest. Things had changed lately, in a way that I couldn't control.

It felt good when his arms wrapped around me, his warmth seeping through to even the coldest fibers of my body. "I'm so sorry, Chlo."

I reluctantly shrugged him off. The more we made a big deal about her the harder it became to stay stable. It was so much easier to shove everything out of my mind. To pretend.

"Come in," I said, not wanting to attract any suspicion from my neighbors. When we were safely inside, the front door closed behind us, I let out a breath, holding the tears within. "How are things?"

He eyed me cautiously. "Okay. I think I've found an agreement with Dad. It's just, the level of control he expects is ridiculous. I'm a little nervous with how closely he watches."

I frowned. "What is he watching?"

"Everything," he said. "He's obsessed with fashioning me into a younger version of himself. He's terrified of leaving the business, and so he wants to make sure he never truly does."

"So you don't have any choice but to take it over eventually?" I asked, the words helping to clear the lump from my throat. It replaced the heavy weight in my mind with an erratic feeling, leaving me giddy. I led us into the kitchen and strolled to the wine rack against the far wall.

"No. I mean, there's my sister, but he's a sexist asshole who insists it has to be a man. I'm the only one carrying on the Bishop name, after all," he said with sarcasm. Then he raised an eyebrow as I pulled a bottle of red wine from the case. "Really?"

I examined the label carefully. Pinot noir. Monica had loved the stuff when we used to sneak it out of her mother's basement. With a shrug, I put it on the counter and leant upwards to reach the cabinet for wine glasses. It wasn't that high up, but I was on the other side of the counter and had to lean across. I stretched my arm momentarily before a body pressed against the back of mine, trapping me against the marble. William's arms found the cabinet door instantly.