Alexandra gently grabs my hands and squeezes them. “I’m sure he just needs time to decompress. It sounds like that brought back some memories for him that he probably didn’t realize he would be reliving so soon. Don’t worry yourself sick— give him some time.”
Talking all this through makes me feel so much better about the whole situation. With my mind clearing and my focus shifting to the present, I feel it. It’s not overt, but I can sense the thickness of the air around Alex. Through all the years of over analyzing everything I know when moods change, I know when people are hiding things.
She’s fucking hiding something.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner about the flowers, Ley?”
I want to focus on the flowers and maybe get some semblance of an idea of what could be going on with all that, but I can’t seem to let go of the feeling that she’s hiding something. Annoyance and anxiety spikes in me.
Alex looks concerned when I don’t reply. I watch as she waits for a moment longer, as if hoping I’ll say more, before relenting.
“Leyla,” Alex starts, clearing her throat. There’s something more to her tone now, and I have a feeling that she’s going to say what she’s hiding from me. Maybe my silence told her everything I needed to say; that I’m not saying shit until she says whatever is on her mind. But the darkness in her eyes and the way her mouth twitches… My nerves are hitting me harder than expected.
She starts again, “The Whispering Killer has been active again. Five people in the past three months. They’re so organized and they leave nothing behind. Leyla, I’m not supposed to say anything, I wasn’t going to tell you until we had more to go off of... But with these flowers and everything? Something doesn’t feel right to me, and I think you should know now.”
I sit there in silence again, my chest ready to explode and I don’t even know where to begin processing that information. I thought this was all behind me— that I was free and clear from this. But maybe this is my punishment for some crime in a past life that I could never atone for; I would never be free from those horrors, they would follow me around for the rest of my life.
“Sweetheart. I promise you, you’re safe. We are doing everything in our power to find out who this is.”
I can see the concern in her eyes, but I can’t handle this right now. The words don’t register, but she’s still talking, “–but we have reason to believe it’s tied to Cameron— Hey, Leyla –” but I’m already on my feet.
I’m too reactive today and I feel it, even as I find myself storming away without a word. My blood is instantly at a boil with Cameron’s name in her mouth over my parents. My parents.My fucking parents.How could she do this? Why would she listen to me talk about how wonderful Cameron is and how I’m so worried things are ruined right now, and then implicate him in a serial killer plot that resulted inmy parents being murdered?
Maybe she’s lost her mind. After all, Cameron was what?Twelvewhen my parents were murdered? Something about the thought makes the back of my head… tingle. Tingle might not be the right word, but it feels as if something is buzzing in the back of my head that’s cold and uncomfortable. It’s all I can focus on as I head down the sidewalk without purpose or direction.
Cameron was twelve when my parents were killed. That means he was way too young to be involved. The killer is active again, though. What was that with his trunk? Cameron was twelve when my parents were killed. No one that young could be a meticulous killer. He was twelve. That’s so young to be involved in something so dark.
My thoughts won’t stop and I feel myself nearing the edge of sanity. Not paying attention to anything else around me, I know that I have to get home, I need to call him.
Running faster than I ever have before, the buildings a blur of color next to me, I make it to the back of my apartment building. Pulling out my phone I dial Cameron, just hoping that he wouldanswer, there’s nothing else I need in this world right now except to talk to Cameron Curtis.
“Cherry,” Cameron answers with a sigh. “I’m so sorry— Fuck, that doesn’t even begin to cover what I did. And I’m bad with this shit, and I know I’m even more of an ass for hiding like—”
“Did you kill my parents?” The question slips out before I even have time to process what I’m thinking, implying, oranything. My brain just won’tstop. It’s a record on loop, stuck on thinking about how young Cameron would have been when my parents were killed.Why?There has to be a reason that my mind won’t let it go. Fuck, I should have heard Alex out, but I just… couldn’t handle it. I can’t handle any of this shit.
My hand is clutching the phone tightly, and my breathing is more like panting. But I persist, “Don’t eventhinkabout lying to me.”
I say looking around the parking lot in the back of my building. I already know the answer as a barrage of memories flood back to me, rendering me speechless. There’s not even time for me to hear Cameron’s response, as suddenly the world around me fades to black.
Chapter 19
Knowing Me, Knowing You
Cameron
“Dad– please no.Please,don’t make me watch this,” my little voice is barely above a whisper as my dad shoves me back into the wall, telling me to shut up or I’ll get it. I won’t make a sound. I know better than that.
I watch my dad grab the woman’s hair and cut her throat. Blood is everywhere and I want to look away, but I know he’ll get mad. My dad always told me it’s for my own good. That one day I’ll follow in his footsteps. I just want to make him proud.
Unable to take in that much red, I dare to look away for just a second; I just need a moment to steel myself. And that’s when I see another flash of red. That’s when I seeher. A little girl with red hair is running from one room to another, I can see it through the crack in the door that looks down the hallway. I don’t tell dad. I won’t tell dad.
I will protect her, that’s my job now. Because I know if dad finds out there’s a loose end… well, there won’t be one. I’ll protect her from all this mayhem. Somehow, I will.
I turn back to my dad as he puts the woman back on the bed. Her blue eyes are looking at me— but not at the same time. The man in the corner is crying as dad makes his way over to him. They’re talking loudly. The man says he didn’t kill anyone, but my dad wouldn’t be here if that was the case.
I know what my dad does isn’t good, but he always made it clear that he only hurts people who deserve it. Dad calls me over to him, his rough hand on the small of my back, and he places the knife in my hand.
“One movement. Make it count, kid,” Dad says to me with a too wide grin. “You are a killer at heart, just like me okay? You know who I am, and you are going to be just like me when you grow up. Get that? Don’tfuckinglet me down.“ Dad’s voice grows louder, as he grabs my arm and drags me into the hallway right outside the room. Immediately my eyes dart around to see if the red-headed girl is still in sight. I don’t see her— good.
