Instead of You(13)

I walked away and left with my parents.

When I made it to my bed, I lay down watching the predawn sky through my window lighten with every minute that passed and I listened to my mother sob and my father soothe her from their bedroom. Only once the house was eerily quiet did my mind finally wander to Cory. I thought about Cory at five, slinging mud at me from across the yard after one particularly heavy summer rain. I thought of Cory at ten, letting me sit on the handlebars of his bike as we rode to the grocery store to buy popsicles to sell to all our friends at the park. I thought of Cory at fifteen, just learning how to drive, his mother practically having a heart attack as he pulled into my driveway, nearly hitting my father’s SUV.

There were very few memorable events in my life that didn’t involve Cory. He’d been there since day one. And had I known our days were numbered, the last two years would have been very different. I would have made sure of that.





Chapter Five


McKenzie


The next two weeks passed in a blur. My parents didn’t make me go back to school immediately; they said I could wait until after the funeral. Because of the nature of their deaths, a very detailed and thorough autopsy was performed on both Cory and his father, which delayed everything.

My mom spent a lot of time with Mrs. Wallace but that wasn’t saying much, she was practically catatonic. She rarely got out of bed, and when she did, she resembled a zombie.

I didn’t feel like I was faring much better.

The night Cory was killed, I don’t think I really comprehended what was happening, or how drastically different my life would become. I woke up the next morning after a horrible night of dreams. Dreams of watching Cory being shot, dreams of his face, dreams of him smiling and winking at me just before he left the house. Each time Dream Cory winked at me, I screamed and yelled at him not to go, to stay with me. That’s how I woke up, screaming “Please, don’t go!”

After spending a night dreaming about his death, I reached for my cell phone to see if he’d texted me. It didn’t occur to me for a few seconds that I’d never get another text from him. I looked at the very last one he’d sent.

I can’t wait for tonight.

We were supposed to have sex for the first time the night he died.

But then he died.

He was killed.

So many thoughts were streaming through my mind. I should have slept with him months ago so he didn’t die a virgin. What a terrible thought. But for whatever reason, I felt like I’d denied him something. I never thought I’d feel guilty for waiting, but suddenly, I did. My reasons for waiting were still valid—I wasn’t in love with him. But my need to wait until I was in love didn’t seem as important now that he was gone, when weighed against the fact that he died. Besides, I’d agreed to have sex with him anyway, regardless of not being in love. We’d set a date, we’d paid for a hotel room. A hotel room we never showed up to. I was going to go through with it because I felt like he’d waited long enough. We’d both waited long enough. I wanted to know, too, what it felt like to be with someone. I was just as curious as any other girl my age, but I was also just as scared. There was also a tiny thought in the back of my mind that perhaps, just maybe, having sex with him would send me over the proverbial edge. I thought maybe if I made love with him, that final switch would flip and I’d finally fall in love with him.

I’d never known anyone who’d been murdered before, but I could officially attest to the fact that the family left behind by someone who died of natural causes had a very different road than Mrs. Wallace and Hayes. Not only were they dealing with the deaths, but they were also dealing with worrying about the man who had killed Cory and Mark.

After he’d shot all three people, the man wearing a mask ran away and the police had no leads on where it was he went or his identity. They knew what kind of gun was used, based on the bullets pulled from all three bodies, but that was basically the only information they had to go on.

This not only caused Mrs. Wallace great stress, understandably, it also caused some degree of paranoia. I’d gone with my mom over to her house a few times and I’d heard her talking about what-ifs. What if the killer had known Mark? What if he killed him on purpose? Targeted him? What if he wasn’t finished and came back for her and Hayes?

I didn’t see her in hysterics, but I heard her. She’d been in her room with my mom and Hayes and I’d sat on their couch, eyes wide, pulse racing.

It hadn’t occurred to me that this might not have been an accident.

Hayes wandered out and I must have looked like a deer in headlights because he diverted from whatever path he was on and came straight to me. “What’s wrong, Kenz?”

“Is what she’s saying true? Will they come back for you?” I hadn’t felt fear in the days since they’d died, but I was feeling it then.

He didn’t answer right away, but he looked at me, seeming to just take my face in. “No, Kenz. No one’s coming back for us. Mom’s just not thinking straight. Her mind’s not right.”

“But how do you know?” The thought was terrifying.

“Because it doesn’t make any sense. That guy was just hard up for money. He probably didn’t go in there intending to shoot anyone. He didn’t know who my dad was, or even what his name was.”

“But he does now! This has been all over the news all week. He’s out there and he knows the man he killed has a wife and another son. What’s stopping him from finding you and—?