Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

I stand in the shadows for what feels like hours, watching pinprick stars behind gray clouds that move over the alley. Then, with my pulse thundering in my ears, I crawl back through his window, run to the phone, and call for a cab.

My cab driver is a woman. I’m so relieved by that fact that I almost fall asleep en route to Ree’s house. Sometime later, I step out onto the sidewalk under fluffy gray clouds and a deep pink sky, and lift my hand at the pigtailed driver.

She pulls off, and Ree runs down the steps toward me.

“Goldfish…” Her voice breaks as she hugs me. “Your mom’s assistant just called.”

Ree cries, and I hug her, and she escorts me to her bedroom, where I sit on her bed trying not to cry until I do cry.

“I’m crying for Luca,” I say as I hug her pillow. “I don’t really believe Becca is gone.”

Ree stretches out beside me and I close my eyes as I tell her about the night.

She sighs when I finish. “I’m glad you’re okay. Not okay,” she corrects. “But that you are here safe.”

I nod, wiping my eyes. Staring at the pistachio green wall of her room, I feel feverish, off-kilter, like gravity has shifted and I don’t know where to put my feet to walk. There’s an awful, throbby ache that seems to’ve grabbed me by the soul and now is ripping at me. Knowing that I’ll never see my sister again. Knowing that her beautiful, sweet body is on a cold table or zipped up in a bag…that I’ll never feel her soft, wavy black hair again. That I’ll never get to kiss the little freckle near her hairline. That I bolted from the house before the paramedics even took her.

I was right that night—on prom night. I have everything and Becca didn’t even get to have a life.

I sob my heart out into Ree’s pillow, and she rubs my back. When I think there’s no more tears, I think of Luca playing charades for Bec on one of her last days and cry more.

“I want Luca,” I tell Ree. She brings me her cell phone, and I call his house two times, but no one answers.

I wipe my face and feel pretty sure I’m going to cry a lot more, so I take a shower. Ree steps in to take my dirty clothes away and leave me some of hers.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

I stand there inhaling steam, trying to think of something that will ease the weight of my grief, but there’s nothing. It’s like living with a rock pressed on my chest and shoulders. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.

I sit underneath the spray, crying till I start to feel sick. Then the steam around me shifts as Ree steps back into the bathroom.

“Hey. Just checking in on ya.”

I stick my head out. “I’m okay.” Ree is holding her cellular phone.

“Is that Dani?”

She looks up. “I haven’t told her. Have you?”

I shake my head.

“Max sent a text message.”

“About Becca?”

She shakes her head. “He was asking if I could bring something later, but I said I don’t think I’m going.”

“Going where?” I rub my swollen, sore eyes.

“Oh, that party tonight.”

There’s a party tonight. I’d forgotten.

“Luca and I were going to meet there.”Chapter Twenty-SixLuca

The sun is turning amber-orange between the slits of Leo’s bedroom blinds. There’s a note from Alesso on a little wooden table pushed beside the love seat.

You seem okay so we went out to get something. We’ll be back around 5. Crackers, Ginger Ale if you can take it. I left a few pain pills that are mine from wisdom teeth. Careful if you wake up. -Alesso

I look at the pills, the crackers, and the little plastic cup full of bubbly liquid and lie back on the love seat. Good arm over my eyes and holy fuck, I stink. For a second, that distracts me.

Then the crushing pressure I felt last night grips my chest again. I try re-playing what happened, but it’s fuzzy. Like there’s something blocking me from remembering in detail. When I try to, all I can see is…the blood.

Fuck. I make it to the bathroom on time—barely—and spend the next ten minutes lightheaded from my shoulder and my headache. There’s a big cut in my mouth, on my cheek, and some soreness by one of my molars.

I don’t want to use Leo’s toothbrush, but I borrow some mouth wash. Stings. One glance at my bruised face and I know that I don’t want to look again.

I get a shower, do some clean-up. My shoulder hurts so bad my head is spinning.

On the love seat…I sit down with a towel around my waist, and my throat’s so fucking tight and sore.

Now I’m standing up. Remembering. I was by the stage. I tried to climb up—but I was too slow. I squeeze my fucking shoulder till tears prickle my eyes.