Black Promises (Blackwoods College)

I didn’t say goodbye as I left.

My relationship with my parents was strained at best. Ever since the day I’d told them what happened, and they’d tried to convince me that I was wrong, or a liar, or something even worse, a crazy person, I’d decided I didn’t want them in my life. I took what they offered—shelter and food, mostly—but I didn’t owe them a damn thing.

“How’s Sam been doing?” Robyn asked as she pulled into her assigned parking space. She knew the broad strokes about what had happened to us, but she didn’t know the depth of the rage that simmered in my heart.

“Good, I think. You know Sam. He’s always happy.” Which was true—my brother could make friends with anyone. He was smart, easygoing, handsome, and a talented soccer player, but all of that was a cover.

The pain was still there, undiminished. We never talked about it, but we both knew.

“High school. I almost miss it.” Robyn sighed as she killed the engine.

“Do you, though? I seem to recall endless days of worthless drudgery and stupid homework.”

“You’re so melodramatic. High school was easy mode. We had, like, no real responsibilities.”

“We have responsibilities now?”

“Okay, good point. Come on, let’s get to class.”

The day drifted along like usual, except for the knot in my chest. Jarrod had left things ambiguous back in the empty lot—don’t contact me, I’ll be in touch with you—and I didn’t know when we’d start our project. I was anxious, more than a little nervous, but above all, extremely excited.

I’d been thinking about this for a long, long time.

Not the sex part. Well, sex, yeah, I’d been thinking about sex. It wasn’t like I was celibate. I’d had some experience with past boyfriends, but we’d never taken it farther than some third-base heavy petting type stuff. That incredible, knee-shaking desire to get taken and fucked had never been there with those guys, not like it was with Jarrod.

I hadn’t approached him for that, obviously. But this virginity thing was confusing and complicated and made the whole enterprise that much more exciting.

Which definitely meant I was fucked up.

But I’d known that already.

Toward the end of the day, my phone buzzed. I was half-asleep in an Irish Literature course, and the professor was droning on about James Joyce. I checked my messages and had one text from a new number. I frowned at the screen and felt my throat nearly close.

Meet me after football.

That had to be Jarrod. I saved the number and wrote back.

Cora: Where?

Jarrod: Outside the stadium.

I slipped my phone away before the professor could give me crap for texting, but a nervous energy slipped through my system.

Was I really doing this?

It was true that I’d spent years picturing this moment. I’d studied Dr. Silver through the internet, the news, and even occasionally biked past his practice. I’d lingered outside a few times, taking pictures, and had followed him back to his house once. I knew the man, thought I knew his habits, and was committed to ending his life the way he’d ended mine.

But would killing fix anything?

And if I dragged Jarrod into this situation, would that damn us both and bind me to him forever?

He might never let me go. Once he got his night, he might want more, and what could I do? If we killed together, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn that same deadly hunger on me.

Was I walking into a hell of my own making?

None of it mattered. I grabbed a meal from the cafeteria, then hurried to the stadium. Robyn had said practice got off at six and had only seemed somewhat suspicious about why I’d been asking. I lingered near the entrance, feeling like an idiot, like an imposter, and the evening stretched on. People wandered past, guys and girls in groups, laughing and talking with each other, some of them with headphones on, their backpacks pulled up tight.

Normal people in their normal lives. I’d never been like them and never would be, not until I excised the demons that tore at my heart.

Not until I bathed in Dr. Silver’s blood.

Several loud voices pulled my attention. Jarred came toward me along with Addler, Des, and Calvin. Those idiots were always together, and I bristled a little bit.

Why would Jarrod bring his buddies to a meeting about murder?

“What’s this fine young thing doing here?” Des asked, spotting me.

I wished I could shrink away.

“Easy there. I don’t think poor Cora’s too into your shit, man.” Addler nudged Des.

Des shoved him back. “Everyone’s into my shit. I’ve got the best shit around.”

“Shut up, both of you.” Jarrod’s voice was a growl. He approached me and glanced back at his group.

Des was beaming. “You gonna choke her this time, big guy? Go ahead, nobody’s stopping you.”

Addler looked uncomfortable. Calvin raised an eyebrow.