Dawn by McKayla Box
Chapter 42
The keys to my car are on the front seat and the car is right where we left it. My hands are shaking so badly that it takes me a few seconds to get the key in the ignition and start the car. I drive out of the cul-de-sac, past Annabelle’s house, past the lot, and out of the neighborhood. By the time we get to the freeway, I can’t hold back the tears any longer. They flood my eyes, blurring my vision, and I lift a shaky hand off the steering wheel to slash them away. And still they come.
Sunny is slumped against the door, and I’m not sure if she’s even conscious. For all I know, she’s passed out from shock.
Which just makes the tears come faster.
When I change lanes abruptly, though, she stirs. “Speed limit.” Hearing her voice is like arms wrapping me in a hug, it’s so reassuring. “He said go the speed limit.”
I look down at the speedometer and take my foot off the gas. “Right.” I wipe at the tears on my face. “Right.”
She shifts in the seat and tilts her head back. “Oh my god. Were all of those people dead?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t he want to call the police?”
“No idea.” I try to take a deep breath but it catches in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sunny.”
She doesn’t say anything.
Neither of us says anything the rest of the way home. I concentrate on driving, on maintaining the speed limit, and Sunny just stares out the windshield.
I pull up to Trevor’s house and she pauses before she opens the door. “I wanted to come,” she finally says. “It’s not your fault.”
I don’t say anything.
But she’s wrong.
This is my fault.
All of it.
“You’re going to meet him, right?” she asks. “At sunrise.”
I nod.
“Okay.” Her eyes search mine. “Are you okay to drive home?”
“No,” I tell her. “But I’ll get there.”
“Text me so I know you made it.”
I nod again.
She closes the door and I watch her disappear inside the house.
My hands shake on the wheel the entire way home. My dad’s car is in the driveway, but the lights aren’t on in the living room, so I know he’s not waiting up for me. I get out of the car. My body feels like I’ve just run a marathon. I go through the garage and head straight to my room, hoping my dad won’t pop out of his bedroom or call to me. I can’t face him tonight. I can’t pretend that nothing has happened.
I get to my room and close my door behind me, slumping against the wood. Slowly, I strip out of my clothes and walk to the shower. I turn on the water and get in.
And then I stand there, letting the water hit me, and cry.
I just cry.