The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(45)

Mom and Dad are used to not hearing from me when I’m here. They’re not expecting me back until Monday night. Two days away. How badly can a body decompose in forty-eight hours? Are they going to find me mangled and in pieces when they finally drive up here to find out what’s happened to me?

A huge weight is pressing down on me, crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe. I grab a knife, any knife, and tiptoe toward the front door, realizing, horror sending a shock wave of adrenaline through my body, that I didn’t lock the goddamn door.

Fucking idiot, Silver! FUCKING IDIOT!

I'm two feet away from the door when the floorboard beneath my feet creaks.

“Silver.”

The voice on the other side of the door isn’t posing a question, asking if I’m there. It’s a statement. A declaration. It belongs to Alex Moretti.

I sag against the wood, my heart giving a hard, painful spasm below my ribs. Recognizing who it is hasn’t helped, it seems; I can’t decide if the knowledge is even a good or a bad thing. I’m out of breath, panting, when I speak, even though I’ve barely moved. “What the…hell are you doing here?”

“Open the door.”

“No!”

“Open the door, Silver. It’s two o’clock in the morning. I’m freezing.”

My mouth falls open. Sure enough, when I look down at Mickey, his disproportionate arms confirms that it’s nearly ten past two. “What the fuck are you doing, showing up here at two in the morning, Alex? Are you fucking insane?”

“Probably. Open the door.”

I swallow, and the metallic tang of fear floods my mouth. I’m not afraid that he’s here, but my fight or flight response is still taking a second to cool its jets. “Go home, okay? This is not okay.”

Silence rings like a bell in my ears again.

“All right. I’m gonna go get in the car. I’ll wait five minutes before I go. Take a beat. If you really want me to go, then stay inside. If you wanna talk, then come out.”

“I’m not gonna come out, Alex. You’re fucking mad!”

“Like I said. I’ll wait five minutes.”

I hear him walk away, footsteps moving away from the door and down the steps that lead up to the cabin’s porch. A second later, a car door slams again.

Fucking psycho.

Why would he do this?

Why would he drive all the way out here in the middle of the night?

This was a bad move on his part. A stupid fucking move.

I turn away from the door and hurl the knife, grinding my teeth together. Now it’s not fear that I taste in my mouth. It’s just blood. I must have bitten the inside of my cheek.

“Urrgghhh! ASSHOLE!” I yell the insult, even though he probably can’t hear me. Of all the dumb, shitty, cruel things he could do…

I oscillate wildly between anger and relief as I pace up and down in front of the door.

A minute passes.

I gouge my fingernails into the meat of my palms, digging so hard my hands begin to throb.

Another minute.

Another.

I’m going to fucking kill him. Dad won’t be so pally-pally with him when he finds out that he came up here and scared the shit out me like this.

Another minute.

Not that I can tell Dad. If I do, I’ll also have to tell him that I was here alone, and then he’ll never let me come again.

Another minute.

The engine revs to life outside. Light floods through the living room window, throwing everything into stark relief, shadows climbing the walls.

Shit.

I don’t even decide to do it. I act without thinking, throwing open the cabin door and storming barefoot out into the night. Alex is sitting in the driver’s seat of an old Camaro, his hands resting on the steering wheel. His eyes lock onto me as I charge toward him; he remains expressionless as I pitch up at the side of the car, raise my fist and smash it into the driver’s side window. Pain explodes through my hand, sharp and breathtaking, stars spangling, flaring in my vision.

“FUCK YOU, ALEX MORETTI!” I spin around, mud squelching up between my toes as I shake out my hand, walking away from the car. Fuck, that really, really hurts. I cradle my hand to my chest, holding it there, waiting for the pain to subside, but it only seems to get worse. The car door opens and closes again. Alex doesn’t say a word, which is almost the most infuriating part of all of this. He doesn’t even ask if I’m okay.

“You know,” I hiss. “You know what happened. You know…what they did. You know how fucking frightening it would be…for me to have someone roll up here…in the dark, when I was alone…”

I’m crying, and I don’t know if it’s because my hand hurts so much, or because I’m still reeling from the fear and the panic of what might have been about to happen to me. Soon, I’m sobbing, and I can’t control it. I’m straining for breath, fighting not to collapse. I can feel myself slipping, drowning, tumbling, descending into some broken kind of madness that I have never allowed myself to succumb to before. Not even after it happened. Not even when my friends turned on me, and I found myself shunned…

I am breaking.

I am splintering.

I am finally shattered into pieces.

Alex is right in front of me, then. He’s holding out his hands, dark eyes calm and steady. “Va bene. Va bene. Respira, Argento. Respira. Shhhh.”