Page 164 of Wallflower

His figure runs through the many camera feeds across the computer screen. I flip to the interior feed, watching him dash down the hall to the control room, calling for Bucky.

Quickly, the two of them return to Shantel’s body. Kyle races to get ahead, fighting to hold Bucky back from diving over the edge. Bucky crumbles, screaming her name with no response, while Kyle prevents him from leaping down to tend to his departed family.

Clinging tightly to our friend, Kyle takes Bucky’s phone, raising it to his ear, calling me. He’s using his phone as a flashlight to illuminate the area around them in the thick post-storm darkness. Once the call connects and I answer, he passes the phone to Bucky. I replay the call in my head, watching on the screen as his voice fractures in my ears like it’s happening at this very moment.

From there, they sit in the light sprinkling of rain, talking too quietly for me to hear. Bucky leaps up, taking off back towards Bleakcrest as Kyle follows sullenly.

Rewinding the footage, I watch Shantel’s final moments on a loop, looking for anything odd or out of place. It looks like she simply falls over dead after a heart attack. That would be highly unlikely for someone in their mid-twenties, but not totally unheard of.

Guilt worms its way beneath my skin as she rolls off the side of the cliff. Not because I had anything to do with it, but because I don’t care. Not in the way I should. I’m sad for my friend and his grief. How in his late twenties he’s already lost his only two siblings, and when the time comes, he will have to bury his parents alone as well.

I hope she felt the same level of terror I did, locked in my past. The panic constricting her so tightly she thought her heart would explode as her chest caved in.

Shutting off the screen, I lean back in my seat. Pulling a full unburdened breath into my lungs for the first time in what feels like ages. I search for the sadness I should have at the loss of a life long friend, but there’s nothing. Just the vacancy she left that lingers with the tang of betrayal.

Shantel’s death doesn’t feel heavy, it feels like divine intervention. Like after all this time, I’ve paid my penance for the wrongs of another life, and now I finally get to live without trauma’s chains keeping me down.

Rose rests silently in the passenger seat of the blacked out Rolls-Royce Phantom as I navigate us back to our place from the funeral home. Her dark curls blow in the warm island breeze coming through the open sunroof, eyelashes fluttering as she dozes peacefully. She’s been a silent unwavering support, offering aid wherever it’s needed, despite her immense dislike for Shantel.

I don’t know what I did to get blessed with a woman like her. Rose’s selflessness renders me speechless every time I witness it.

Bucky and Kyle left with Bucky’s parents, Mark and Patricia, offering to drive them back to the hotel. Bucky’s been living at the warehouse since I procured it a few years ago, now he’s taken up residence at Bleakcrest. His parents are under the impressionhe lives with Kyle in a modest two bedroom apartment, hence the hotel. I put them up in the suite. They lost their daughter, they shouldn’t have to worry about cost. I’ve covered everything: flights, hotel, and all other expenses.

The near week between Shantel’s death and cremation, gave my team time to say their goodbyes and pay their respects. Monica and Ashley stepping forth to attend the cremation, vowing to uphold Shantel’s farce as a women’s personal trainer to the very end.

Rose’s hesitancy to attend the memorial was justified, given she didn’t like her very much. But she was there for me and my friends. Even so much as taking care of the catering and all other necessary arrangements.

Bucky pushed for the full-panel toxicology report, even though the initial one didn’t show anything alarming. The results should be in any day now. Technically, you can’t have a body cremated during an investigation. However, I greased the wheels, moving the process along quicker than normal to not raise suspicions with Bucky’s grieving parents. Whatever the test shows, won’t change the fact that their daughter is gone.

Shantel’s cause of death was ruled as a myocardial infarction, aided by the stress on her heart from excessive exercise and overexertion. Bucky’s the only one adamant it was foul play.

Pulling onto the private paved road that leads home, I squeeze Rose’s knee gently, rousing her from the short nap. She bolts up like a startled animal, and I apologize. “We’re home, baby.”

Slumping back against the seat, she snips, “Scare me half to death, why don’t you?”

“Sorry,” I offer again. She looks so fucking pretty, eyes wide and sparkling with traces of fear. Her flushed cheeks huff out a heavy breath as she fluffs her hair in an attempt to compose herself. “For future reference, how should I wake you?”Reaching up, I press the button for the garage door opener, eyes never leaving hers.

“Start by not grabbing me so hard I think we’re about to crash.”

“I barely touched you.”

“Tell that to the bruises I’m going to have.”

“I thought you liked wearing my marks,” I coo, wiggling my eyebrows.

I slide the car into its usual spot, right next to Kyle’s street bike, as the garage door closes behind us, snuffing out the light.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, trying to appear grouchy, but the upturn at the corner of her beckoning lips brands her a liar.

I kill the engine, leaning over the centre console as the darkness surrounds us. Her hushed breathing is the only sound to be heard as I feather my lips over hers. “Make me,” I taunt, nipping at her bottom lip.

She moves into me, fingers trailing up my arms, lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from mine.

Like a rocket, I launch myself away from her and out the door of the car. Moving quickly through the garage to the adjoining door to the house.

Rose’s passenger side door opens. “Are you serious?” she hollers from inside the vehicle.

My laugh is audible as I slide the key into the lock, open the door, and slip inside. Leaving her behind to stew evermore in that boiling pot of rage.