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I crumple to the ground with my face in my bloody, throbbing hands and those wretched sobs wreak my body once more, the sound mingling with the distant party as the world goes on.
Chapter Two
March 21st - Kate
Lorenzo’sfootwon’tcomeoff the pedal, no matter how much I beg and plead. Why can’t he just slow down? We could—
My heart races as the car veers off the road, jostling over the uneven ground. I scream and shout as though that will stop the inevitable. I brace myself for the impact, but the moment the car slams into the thick trunk, the scene transforms. It’s no longer Lorenzo in the driver’s seat. It’s Brad.
A beeping starts in the distance, but I can’t peel my eyes away from the blood oozing from Brad’s forehead, his eyes rolling dangerously into his head.
I haven’t stopped screaming.
The beeping has become incessant. Tremors of anxiety course through me as my nerves skyrocket. Why won’t it stop? Just shut it off! Shut. It. Off.
I shoot up in bed, sweat trickling down my face with my heart ready to beat out of my fragile chest. I’d hoped the recurring nightmare was a one-off the night after we left his house, but now I’m afraid they’re here to stay.
I shut off the alarm on my phone and stare at the time: 7:00 a.m.It would be time to get ready for work, if I was going.
I’d never called out sick in the four plus years of working at Valeri Financials, but today will be my third day in a row.
But it’s not a total lie, is it? Is there really such a difference between a fever and a burning heart? Both mean something is wrong. Both mean I’m not functioning at my full potential. Unlike a fever, which helps my body fight the illness, a burning heart is slowly turning me to ash.
I would trade this torment for a hospital stay any day of the year.
How could I have been so naive? How did I not piece together that Lorenzoran Brad off the road?How could I not know he was using drugs?
Char suggested I take it easy and spend some time at home before deciding how to handle this. Because I have to turn him in, right? I have to let someone know—anyoneknow—that it’shisfault Brad was in the hospital with a concussion. It’shisfault Brad didn’t show up for our date on December 22nd.
It’shisfault we ever met at all.
I fall back onto my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up from whatever nightmare this information has made my life. I was never supposed to be responsible for the culprit in Brad’s accident.
I was never supposed to be responsible for turning in the person I was falling for.
Tears stream down my face as my entire body tightens with the suppressed sobs and screams. None of this is right, none of this is fair.
It’s agonizing to reconcile the idea that I’m evenwillingto let him get away with his crime so he doesn’t have to face the consequences, all because of my inexplicably irrational feelings for him.
I have justifications, sure. Brad didn’t die. He had insurance. For all I know, it was truly an accident and everyone makes mistakes.
It’s still wrong.
There’s no excuse for leaving someone after you caused them to crash into a tree. What if Brad had died? Or been gravely injured? Lorenzo was fine with whatever outcome because he didn’t stop. He. Didn’t. Stop.
Was he high? Was he laughing as he sped away? Was anyone with him?
And what does this make me? An accomplice? What about Char? She’s implicated in this, too. She knows just like I do. Is she going to do something about it?
She had to go back to get her car at some point, and I have no idea when she did it or if she had to see Santi or Lorenzo. I haven’t looked at any of the messages or missed calls on my phone since we left his house. I haven’t even had the energy to turn off the recurring weekday alarm that’s set. The only message I’ve sent was the one to Jasmine letting her know I’m sick and that I’ll return when I’m feeling better.
But I can’t avoid it forever. I pick up my phone and finally turn off the set alarm, then sift through the missed notifications from the past few days. When I see Lorenzo’s messages from after we left his house, I don’t hesitate to read them.
Lorenzo: please let me explain
Lorenzo: it looks bad but i swear i can explain
Lorenzo: kate
