Page 111 of Bound Bride
The rundown house Beatie brought me to is one of seemingly hundreds stretching in all directions up and down the street.
Getting here was a blur; from wrapping a makeshift bandage around my arm to stealing that car and driving like a maniac with no care for what we left behind.
We walk the cracked stone paving up to a peeling front door that creaks painfully loudly when Beatie places her hand on the worn brass handle.
"She is," Beatie murmurs, her back to me. "He brought me here once."
"Who did?"
"Mathew. After… after Dad left."
Dad.
What a fucking mess this is turning out to be.
I'm out of ideas on how to fix any of this, and I'm praying that whatever Kon has been busy doing is enough to distract Mathew and Lev long enough that I can sneak in here, get Mom, and sneak back out.
Beatie hovers on the top step for a long moment, then she turns to face me with tears in her eyes. "Will your friend be okay?"
Calvin?
I close my eyes and try to chase away the image of his motionless, dead body lying in a pool of his own blood.
He did so much for me.
Kept my secret.
Helped me when I really needed it. In the end, he died for me and every step I take past leaving him there is a step I don't deserve.
A breath stolen from a man who only ever tried to be my friend.
"I think…" My voice cracks. "I think he's fine. They will find him and he'll be alright."
"I'm sorry." Tears well up in her eyes, and suddenly, I'm staring down the seven-year-old version of her as she stands before me with my broken jewelry box in her hands.
It breaks my heart, so I reach for her hand and grip it tightly. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll get Mom, and we'll get out of here, and everything's going to be okay, alright?"
Beatie looks up at me with wide eyes, but the same glazed look remains.
It's like she's looking right through me and the overwhelming guilt inside my chest doubles in size.
She wouldn't be like this if I'd acted faster.
If I'd done something different, then maybe I could have given Mathew what he wanted before he stuck a needle in my sister's arm.
"Come on." Using my grip on her hand, I pull her away from the door and ease myself in first. Every snap and creak of the door hinges is loud and painful.
Despite gritting my teeth, my body jumps with a mind of its own against every sound.
Thick, stale air clogs my lungs the moment we step into the dark hallway and a chill sweeps past my bare arms, making my wounded arm throb with heat.
Rickety stairs near the door lead upward and I point to them while glancing at Beatie.
She shakes her head and points past me to the darkest part of the hallway, where shadows close in around the barely visible closed doors.
My heart begins to hammer faster and faster like it's trying to break free of my ribs.
Taking a deep breath, I ease myself over creaking floorboards and around rotten, dark holes and move down the hallway.
