Jaden by Tijan

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

And we were back to the very beginning.

Sheila dropped that bomb, and the song fromThe Sound of Musicstarted playing in my head. Of course. Made total sense. I was going to die one of these days anyway.

Corrigan shoved back his chair and demanded, “What? Where is she?”

Bryce stood too, but slower and he was still holding my hand. Me? I did nothing. I sat and kept quiet because I already knew what was going to happen. As I thought it, Sheila said it, “She’s going to have to go back into protective custody.”

Which I already was, sort of. Kinda. I was hiding anyway.

“No.”

Corrigan agreed with Bryce. “No way.”

“We stay at Denton’s. He lives in a gated community, and he has his own gate. We have security there already. Sheldon’s dad is still there. Have your officers stay there. Put some outside the first gate and some outside Denton’s gate. Hell,” Bryce bit out. “Put a car on the inside, too. She doesn’t leave. She stays where it’s safe.”

“You don’t know where Maria is at all?” That question came from me. I remembered staring her in the eye. I remembered seeing how crazy she was, but she hadn’t been intent on killing me then. No. A sick laugh sounded in my head. She only wanted me to go to prison. She killed my friend to do that. My friend.

I am so sorry, Grace.

Grief like I hadn’t experienced rolled in. I felt it coming, bubbling up to the surface, and I squeezed my eyelids shut. I couldn’t break down, not there, not in front of them. Later. When I was alone, when it was only Grace and me.

I am so sorry, I thought again.

Then I felt a calming touch and I looked up, but no one was there. Sheila was shaking her head. She didn’t agree with Bryce and Corrigan. They didn’t care. They wanted me at Denton’s house. The news of Guadalupe’s death was already pushed aside. They didn’t want another death. They didn’t want my death. I should’ve been outraged or panicked. I should’ve been something, but I was nothing. All I could feel was Grace.

She was there. That calming touch must’ve been her. And it was the dam breaking. Tears for her started sliding down my face. They kept coming; I couldn’t hold them in.

I sat there crying as everyone bickered.

I don’t know how long it went on. I didn’t make a scene. The tears were silent, and I wasn’t wheezing or sniffling. I didn’t even wipe them away. They formed from my eyes and fell down, sliding all the way down to fall off my chin and onto my arm. It was just Grace and me. That’s all I felt in that moment.

She stayed with me, even after some decision had been made, as someone wiped Kleenex over my face, and when I was led out to a back alley. It was quiet. We had gone somewhere tucked away from everyone else. Well, that wasn’t true. Bryce and Corrigan were with me. I could hear the murmur of voices behind us and knew those were cops.

Then a car slid to a halt in front of us. I registered that it was one of Denton’s cars, but he wasn’t in it.“They called him, and he sent a car, but you’re safe, Sheldon.”

Pain stabbed me. It was like she was there and she was the one reassuring me. I swear I heard her voice.

Then we were moving. We were leaving the police station, but they had cars following us. Bryce and Corrigan were talking to me, to each other; I could hear their concern. I didn’t want to talk to them. I just wanted to talk to Grace. I wanted to tell her, “I’m sorry, Grace.”I mouthed the words as I said them to her.

I imagined her sitting next to me and chuckling.“Only you, Sheldon. You’re told you’re in danger and you’re thinking about me. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was. It was all my fault.

“No, Sheldon.”I imagined that her voice would’ve grown stronger. Firmer.“You listen to me. This was not your fault. This was her fault. She killed me. You did not. Not your fault. Her fault. You got that?”Then she would’ve reached over and squeezed my hand.

I looked down, and my hand fell back on my lap. My fingers lifted and I had my palm upward, like Sheila had done before. She was there for us, and I was here for Grace. I could see her hand fitting into mine. After squeezing it, she would’ve patted it again and said,“It’s not your fault, Sheldon. It’s not your fault.”

I kept hearing her voice. She kept repeating those words even after we got to Denton’s and I walked inside. There was a different feel to the house. I saw my dad there, Beth, Mena, Denton. They were all there and all watching, but this was my time with Grace. I didn’t want any interruptions.

Corrigan asked me, his voice muffled for some reason, “Sheldon, do you need help?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t paralyzed or in shock. I was just . . . protective, of Grace and me. Mostly her. If they came in and demanded me to talk to them, then she would go away. I didn’t want her to go away.

My answer was enough for him. They stayed back, and I walked past everyone. I went to my room and shut the door. Then it really was just Grace and me.

I went to the bed and perched on the edge, then closed my eyes.

I dropped to the floor. It wasn’t a graceful slide or a slow descent. I was on the bed, then on the floor the next second.

“Oh, Sheldon.”

Grace dropped down next to me, and she pressed her hands to mine, leaning forward. I could hear her voice crooning in my ear. The tears had come back, and they progressed to sobbing. I couldn’t do anything to hold them back, and I started to rock back and forth.

“I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry.”

“Sheldon.” She adjusted her position so she was sitting cross-legged right in front of me. She scooted even closer, moving my hands so they were in her lap. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because it is my fault.”

“It is not. I’ve said it before. You refuse to listen, so snap out of it.” Her voice rose, and I jerked my head up.

She was watching me back, a storm forming in her blue eyes. Then she said, softly, but with authority, “I made my own decisions. I opened the door and let her in. Me. That’s on me. I offered her wine. I wanted to cry on her shoulder. I wanted to talk to someone, and she was there. I knew it wasn’t right. It was in her eye. She wasn’t there, not in the right way, but I didn’t care. It was me. I didn’t want to die, but I am. I’m dead now. You’re not.”

I started to shake my head. This wasn’t about me. I didn’t need a pep talk. I wanted to mourn my friend. I hadn’t mourned her yet.

“You’ve said your goodbyes.” Grace kept going. “I’ve heard them, in your heart. I know how torn up you are. I know how much pain you hold in. I understand more now than ever. You’ve been hurt so much so you lash out first to protect yourself. I get it. I do. And this is my time to apologize to you.”

I shook my head. She didn’t have to apologize. She already had. She had done nothing wrong.

She spoke anyway, “I abandoned you. You warned me about those girls. That they were only using me to get to you, and I chose them over you. Then I hurt you. I did what they wanted me to do, and it wasn’t worth it. Hurting another person is never worth it. For that,” her own tears were falling free, “I am so sorry. I was going to make it right between us. I was going make everything right and I was going to win back your trust. That was my plan. I missed you. I missed our friendship. I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m the one who is apologizing to you. Please forgive me, Sheldon. Please—”

A high-pitched voice, one edging close to the line of hysteria, laughed above my head.

I looked up, anger stirring. She had sent Grace away. A snarl formed on my lips. I didn’t care who this person was. Grace was gone. She’d been there, but vanished at the interruption. “Go awa—”

I stopped.

It was Maria.

Her hair was messy, standing up all over, with clumps of dried blood in it. She had a coat on, but underneath I could see that her clothes were ripped and streaked with dirt. Her entire neck was scraped and red. Dried and new blood coated it. And as she stood there, holding a knife, she wavered on her feet.

I stood slowly, and as I did, I could see her struggling. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, as if she couldn’t quite see me. She kept blinking and shaking her head, then clenched the knife tighter. She took one faltering step toward me, but paused, and waved back and forth.

“How’d you get in here?”

She smirked. A hoarse laugh came from her. “Sheer force of will. That’s how.”

I frowned.

“I sucked a dick, got a ride to the gate. That’s how I got here. Enough information for you?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She sneered at me. “Oh? That’s all you have to say to me.”

Did I? I shrugged. “I’ve been prepared for this scene since high school. It seems like people everywhere are trying to kill me, so yeah, I guess. You don’t scare me.” Was that what she wanted? “Did you want me to cower? Cry? Beg? Get on my knees and suck your dick? What? All of them? Which one? What exactly do you want from me?”

I moved forward, and she backed up.

Well.

That was different.

I moved again, and she backed up once more. Tilting my head to the side, I really took in the sight of her. Take away the knife, and she was weak. My nostrils flared as I identified that. She was on drugs, and she was the one who hadn’t prepared for this confrontation.

“What happened to you?”

She lifted the knife. A determined gleam entered her eyes, making her more focused and clearer. “I’m the one who asks the questions. Not you. Never you.” She looked around and lifted her nose in the air. “You’re here, hiding, in another man’s home when you have three men downstairs. They’re all concerned about you. Saying you’re in shock, but you don’t look shocked to me.” She gestured to the bed with the knife. “You’re the crazy one. You look calm, and when I snuck in here, you were talking to yourself. You were having a full conversation with yourself, even lifted your own hand like someone was there. You’re nuts. I’m not the crazy one. You are.”

She had a point, but it didn’t change the fact I was sober, and she was on something. She had the weapon, though. I started to look around. I needed a weapon. I needed something, at least.

“Oh no.” Her gleam kicked up a notch and the side of her mouth curved up. “Look at you.” She waved her knife in the air. “Remembered that I have the weapon, huh? You bitch.”

I kept quiet.

Maybe I was in shock. I should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t. She wasn’t even making my blood boil. Then I saw Grace behind her, and I let out a relieved sigh. She was back. She hadn’t left me.

Okay, yes. I was crazy. I was thankful a ghost had come to help me out. We both needed to head to the mental hospital.

I remembered Sheila’s words,“We think when Maria realized the object of her obsession was turning on her, she felt rejected and this sent her into a tailspin of panic and rage.”

I murmured, “They said you’re obsessed with Guadalupe.”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

“That you felt rejected by her.”

“I said SHUT UP!” She jumped forward, but jumped right back. She still held the knife up between us, but her hold on it had switched. She wasn’t holding it like she was going to use it on me. Her hand moved to the side, and she was holding it up, as if to ward me off.

My words. She didn’t want to hear what I was saying.

I kept going. “She called to press charges on you that night, didn’t she? The cops said they think it was a manipulation tactic. She was distancing herself from you.”

“I said to SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

In a quiet voice, I kept going. Anything to derail her. She needed to feel like I was attacking her. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I needed the upper hand. That was all I was looking for. I added, moving to the side, circling around her, “She was going to set you up for killing Grace. That’s what she was doing, wasn’t it?”

“No, that’s not the truth.” Her voice cracked. A ring of desperation was coming out.

I moved again, still in my circle.

She countered me and slowly, one step at a time, we were starting to switch positions.

I was half way there. She was directly across from me, her back to my closet now. “You were the fall guy, and Guadalupe was going to get away with it, but you love her, don’t you?” Oh yes. This is like Marcus and me. He loved me. He wanted to be with me, but I turned on him. “She didn’t want you.”

“Shut up.”

“You were trying to get her lover back for her. That’s all you were doing. I go away, she gets Bryce again, and then she’s happy. You wanted to give her happiness.”

“Wha—shut up!” she hissed out. Her hand switched back so she was holding the knife, ready to lunge for me. She had regained control. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The cops don’t know either.”

“They said you went to a mental hospital. You went in four times. Are you sure they have it wrong? Maybe you’re wrong? What you’re seeing isn’t real?”

“No,” she croaked, blinking her eyes again. “GOD! Why can’t I see? I was drugged. They drugged me.”

I nodded. “I’m sure they did. They do that to help you.”

“No—no! Shut UP! I was drugged against my will. I didn’t want that. It messes with your head, what they put in there, and what she did. What she said.” Her voice dipped and her lip started to tremble. “Guadalupe. Lupe. My love. She’s dead.”

I nodded. “Because you killed her.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she hissed at me. An image of a rattlesnake came to mind. She was getting ready to strike, and I had nothing to defend myself. Control, Sheldon. Take control again. My heart rate started to pick up. Great timing. The shock was wearing off, and yes, here came my own terror. Crap. I was in the room with a killer, and she was there to kill me, too. I looked at the door. I could lunge for it? But no.

I played it out in my head.

I would reach for the door, and she would stab me in the back. She could get to me. I had to knock her out, or knock her back.

Scream, Sheldon!

I frowned. Where had that come from? I wasn’t in my crazy/shocked state anymore. No more Grace talking to me, but damn, that sounded like her. No, I couldn’t scream. I didn’t want anyone coming in. She could swipe at them too, or my god, they would step in front of me. She would kill them instead. Bryce. Corrigan. I couldn’t risk them. It was her and me.

“Look at you,” she murmured in a soft soothing tone.

I gritted my teeth. I was scared, and she sounded in complete control now. This bitch was going to win. I knew it then. My mind was scrambling, but I was going to lose. I had nothing to unbalance her. My card was Guadalupe, and I used it.

Physical force?

Did I dare?

That damn knife. If I missed, I was dead.

I glanced at the door again. It was my only shot.

“Lupe’s gone.”

I looked up. Maria was gazing away from me, lost in her thoughts now. Okay, I just got lucky. She continued, sounding sad, “She killed her. I didn’t. I never wanted anything to harm Lupe. She was my light. If she wanted something, I got it for her. I made her happy. That was my job. You wouldn’t understand. Your job is to kill. You bring darkness everywhere. You brought darkness to us, to me. I’m full of it now. Only dark. Only death. Lupe’s eyes, they were so lifeless.”

Her voice started to slur, and I realized the drugs had kicked in again. I started for the door again and this time, she didn’t notice. She stood still, looking at the knife like it was a new invention, suddenly placed in her hand. She turned it upside down, looking at the handle, then the tip, and then she leaned forward and smelled it.

She murmured to it next, “You’re my last. I have to kill one more, and then I’m done. Then I can join her.”

I was almost to the door. Her voice turned chilling, and I stopped. My hand was about to reach for the doorknob. I turned and she was right behind me. Gasping, I jumped to the side. She hadn’t stabbed me, but Maria wasn’t Maria anymore.

She was gone. All sanity had left her.

She pointed the knife at me. “You killed her. It’s because of you that she’s gone. We were both taken. We were drugged, that’s how we were taken. I woke up from the poison, but Lupe didn’t. She was beside me. She was gone, but she wasn’t. I saw her beside me and she talked to me. She told me things. That she loved me. That she wanted to be with me too. I should’ve told her. I lost my chance, but I have one more to do, and then I can be with her. Lupe and I will be together again, forever this time. Just one.”

Her eyes were roaming over me and paused on my throat.

It was coming.

I felt it in my gut—FIGHT, SHELDON!

I stopped thinking and my elbow rammed up, hitting underneath her chin. She was stunned from the hit, but she twisted to the side. Her hand started to swing around. I saw the knife poised, ready to slice into me, but I grabbed ahold and tried to kick at her arm. My foot hit the underside. It was a clumsy hit, I got lucky, then I heard her grunt right next to my ear, and I looked again.

BAM!

I was hit across the cheek. A blast of pain blinded me, and I couldn’t move for a second, then I felt her coming and she was on me. I was pushed down to the floor, and her knee hit me in the chest. Oomph.

I couldn’t lie there. I heard yelling, and I looked around, trying to see who it was coming from, but it was me. I was the one yelling, and she was dead silent. Her elbow rammed into my head again, and this time the pain more than blinded me. It knocked the breath of out me. I looked up—here it was—it was coming.

Maria was half sprawled over me, but she tightened her hold on the knife, and her arm started coming toward me. The edge of it was going to slice open my throat.

I closed my eyes.

I love you, Corrigan.

BANG!

Maria stopped. The knife dropped. Her arm dropped, and a gurgling sound came from her. She looked up to the doorway then her eyes widened, and she started to point. “She—”

BANG!

BANG!

She was shot two more times. This time I watched as the bullets tore into her. The first one got her in the throat. The second one hit her in the chest, and the third was right in her forehead. She dropped after that one.

Then I looked up—Mena stood in the doorway holding a handgun.

Then everything went dark.