Page 7

five

The "Lying Bitch" Special

Noah

I 'm a nervous fucking wreck.

I fielded questions about how I knew Tate the best I could, simply telling them we were acquaintances, like I'd done with Mia, but they wanted to know more. What was he like? Should we be worried about him with Charlie?

Yeah, you should be very worried about him. Not just with Charlie, but in general. I don't know why he's here—I don't know if it's for me or for them—but I know it isn't because he's interested in Charlie.

And to make matters worse, I realize what I should have done after he went inside the house was sneak back out to my car and leave. Instead, I chugged two more wine coolers, and now I'm having a panic attack.

"So, did you invite someone else, Brielle, or did Charlie?" Josh asks as he comes back out from the house.

"What?" Brielle asks. "You mean someone other than the guy with the blue hair?"

"There's another guy inside, yeah. He just walked out to the garage for some reason. Maybe the new guy brought someone else with him."

"What guy?" I ask. "What does he look like? "

He shrugs. "Black dude with a high school football shirt. Short hair, huge as fuck—at least six foot three."

I can't breathe. But I don't know why I even asked; Tate only has one friend.

But if they're both here? I need to get the fuck out of here before they burn the place to the ground. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Do you know him, too?" Brielle asks.

I scramble to my feet, ignoring her question. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

I walk cautiously toward the house, stopping once I get to the sliding glass doors. I scan the first floor, looking for any sign of Tate, Silas, or Charlie, and when I don't see them, I step inside, closing the door behind me.

I tiptoe through the open space like a child, searching for a bathroom. The first door I try is locked, but when I turn, I spot an open door leading to a bathroom on my right and dart inside.

I rush through the door and immediately end up emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. And once my stomach finally stops retching, I sob.

Because it's not fair. Mia, my mom, seeing Tate here…none of it is fucking fair.

I pull myself onto my feet and drag my too-heavy body to the sink, where I wash the tears, snot, and vomit from my face. I find mouthwash in the cabinet and then drink water from the faucet, and when I look up, Tate stands behind me with his arms crossed in front of him .

"You didn't go to the funeral," he says, our eyes meeting in the mirror. "You didn't go to either funeral."

His words slice through me, somehow past the void and to the version of me who was once whole, wounding her.

I turn, facing him. "I didn't know. I promise I didn't know what they were doing. I heard them talking about some girl a few times, but I didn't realize it was Mia. Why would I ever think it would be Mia?" I choke back a sob. "And then, when I did find out, it was…"

It was after they posted the videos. And it was too late.

"Even if I believed you, you're here , Noah. And you know what they did."

"Tate…" How do I explain this to him? "I have nowhere else to go."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"And I wanted to go to the funeral, but she wouldn't have wanted me there. I didn't want to do that to her."

"How could you even say that? She loved you."

"She had a funny way of showing it."

"Yeah, that runs in the family," he says. His eyes soften, one corner of his mouth turning up just a little.

"Don't," I tell him through clenched teeth. "Don't do that. Don't act like you're—"

"You're right," he says, cutting me off. "I won't act like I'm here for any other reason than to kill every single one of you."

I scoff, shaking my head. But as much as I want to write it off, it doesn't look like Tate is lying right now. "Whatever, I'm leaving. Have fun. "

But when I turn to leave, I run directly into someone else's hard chest.

Silas.

Silas stands in the doorway, blocking my exit.

My lower lip trembles. "Move."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?"

He raises an eyebrow, dissecting me with his gaze. Suddenly, I feel small and helpless between them, exposed, like I may as well be naked.

I watch it register on his face when he notices the fingerprint marks on my arm and the giant bruise on my side from where I was shoved into the countertop earlier. Still, he says nothing.

"Tate, can you get your bodyguard to let me out of here?" I do my best to sound unaffected, but even I don't believe it, so I'm not surprised when they both laugh.

"Hey, Noah? Maybe you should ask Silas nicely yourself if he'd be willing to move," Tate says.

"Silas, would—"

Before I can finish the sentence, Tate kicks me in the back of the knee, and I drop onto the hardwood floor, kneeling in front of Silas.

"I think that's much better, don't you?" Tate asks. "Try again."

"Your nipples are hard," Silas says.

"Silas," I start weakly, ignoring his comment while my cheeks flush with embarrassment, "would you please…let me out of the bathroom?"

He shrugs and steps aside. "Yeah, sure, Noah. You don't have to be so fucking dramatic about it."

They laugh again as I pull myself to my feet and push past him. I storm through the house and then out the side door, determined to get to my car and get the fuck out of here, drunk or not.

But when I get to the car, I find all the tires shredded, and the words LYING BITCH carved into the driver's side in all caps.

I take a few steps back, gritting my teeth. I decide not to confront him and, instead, go to find Leo and ask him to take me home.

But once I take those two steps back, I realize my car isn't the only one sitting on its rims. All five of the vehicles in the driveway were given the same treatment.

Well, without the LYING BITCH special. That was just for me.

When I turn back toward the house, Silas stands near the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me.

"I can't let you leave, Noah," he says. "I'm sorry. He needs this."

He turns, walking back inside the house.

"Silas!" I shout at his back, chasing after him.

Before he reaches the back door, it slides open, and Kendall and Zach step inside.

"Why are you doing this?!" I ask.

He pauses, but not to answer my question. I watch him watch them make their way up the staircase and then disappear down the hallway. He looks out toward the pool, then back toward the stairs.

"Silas!"

"Shut up," he says. "I'm thinking. "

"A-about what?"

He doesn't answer, but whatever he was considering, he must make a decision because he heads outside. Music blares as we pass Brielle and Leo, who sit under the pergola while Josh and Alexis fuck around in the shallow end.

"Silas, please talk to me! Stop ignoring me!"

He scoffs. "You mean like you ignored me for an entire fucking year?"

"Excuse me!" Brielle shouts over the speakers. "Who are you?"

Silas doesn't answer either of us. He walks right up to the amps, tilting one of them upward as if inspecting it.

"Hey, don't touch those!" Brielle says, standing with her hands on her hips. "Did Charlie invite you?"

Ignoring her, Silas looks down at my sandals and then says, "You should go stand in the grass…just in case."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"All right; that's it. Where the fuck is Charlie?" Brielle asks. She grabs her phone from the side table. "What the fuck? The wifi is out. Can you call him, Leo? I don't have any signal out here."

"I don't, either," Leo says. "I'll go inside and look for him."

Picking up the amp, Silas says again, "Go stand in the grass, Noah."

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Hey! Put that down!" Brielle yells. "Those are expensive! They're very fragile!"

Silas rolls his eyes before shifting the weight of the amp onto one arm, then uses the free arm to shove me into the bushes. Before I can pull myself to my feet, the amp soars through the air and lands in the water next to Alexis and Josh.

The music stops. Sparks fly as it short circuits, and Brielle screams. The lights, the house, everything goes dark. With just a sliver of daylight remaining, I can make out Silas standing just a few feet away with his back to me. He pulls a knife from his pocket and flips it open, watching the bodies of my classmates float face down at the water's surface.

They're…

Oh, my god. They're dead.

And Silas is just watching, waiting for…what? Maybe to see if either of them moves; maybe he just wants to make sure.

My heart pounds; my vision blurs as blood pumps in my ears loudly enough that I barely register Brielle screaming anymore. And I can't move. I try, but my body refuses to cooperate.

And if I could move, where would I go? What would I do?

Tate wasn't lying. They really are here to kill every single one of us. And there's nowhere to hide.

"Si—" I start, but all that comes out is a raspy, failed attempt at his name. I swallow hard and try again. "Silas…"

It's not much better, but Silas moves, and things get a bit clearer again.

"Help!" Brielle yells, scrambling to her feet. "Help me!"

"Brielle, run!" I scream.

But she's drunk and high; the patio is wet, and her movements are sloppy. She stumbles as she turns, giving Silas plenty of time to catch up to her. Before she reaches the door, he closes his fist around her hair, pulling her backward .

Then he plunges the knife into her chest, over and over again, before pushing her back toward the pool.

She doesn't fall in—her legs give out first, and she ends up lying on her back just at the pool's edge, her body twitching. A gargling sound comes from somewhere deep in her throat as she chokes on her own blood.

"Brielle!" I cry, rushing toward her. I kneel beside her, panicking, holding my hands over the knife wounds in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding, but there are too many of them, and it's too much. "Help!" I scream, just as futilely as Brielle had done before.

There are no houses for miles. And anyone inside the house is just as trapped as I am.

"You can't save her, Noah," Silas says. His hands close around my shoulders, and he gently pulls me away from Brielle's body. Then, with one foot, he carelessly kicks her over the edge and into the water.

I watch her sink beneath the surface, blood from her wounds painting the surrounding water a dark red before dispersing into something lighter.

"B-Brielle?"

My lower lip quivers as I stare into the pool, a part of me expecting that she'll come back to the surface, gasping for air, and I'll be able to pull her to safety.

Of course, that doesn't happen.

"You should have done a better job picking your friends, Noah. "

"This isn't you!" I say through tears. "This isn't you, Silas. I know you. You're not a bad person; you're not a killer, you…you were good."

Silas laughs. "Are you kidding me, Noah?" he asks before kneeling beside me on the ground.

I lower my gaze, flinching when Silas uses his thumb to lift my chin. I sniffle as our eyes meet. "Silas, please…"

"You know who I am," he says, running the blunt side of the blade—still wet with my friend's blood—down my cheek. "I've always been a killer, and I think you know that, too. I think—if you're honest with yourself—you've seen it. Maybe you even liked it."

I shake my head. "That's not true."

"It is. I was good to you, though, wasn't I? I was always good to you."

I nod, slightly.

He takes my hand in his and turns it over, tracing the fingerprint bruises on my arm. "He's hurting you, isn't he?"

"Mostly, he just hurts my mom."

"I told you," he says. "You should have come to me. I would have taken care of it for you."

"How could I? After all this time, you—"

"I wouldn't have made it hard for you. And then, maybe none of us would be here. This is your fault."

I sob. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"No, I can't kill you, Noah," he says. "You're too pretty. Tate's going to kill you, baby. And I have to let him."

When I start to cry, he adds, "I'm not happy about it. You should know that. But you didn't have to be here, either. "

"I won't tell anyone," I whisper.

"I believe you, but that's not the point."

I whimper, grabbing a fist full of his t-shirt, stained in blood, and curl my body into his. I know it's foolish—seeking comfort after watching three of my friends die from the person who killed them and said he'd let me die, too—but he's Silas.

And he was good to me. We were a part of each other—that's what he said.

"Noah…" He sighs, wrapping his arms around me. "Why do you have to be so sweet?"

He kisses the top of my head, taking the time to smell my hair before trailing kisses down my blood-stained cheek and then my neck, using his tongue and grazing my throat with his teeth.

"Silas…" I say breathlessly.

"I love it when you say my name like that. You know what? I wish I'd put a baby in you so that you couldn't leave me." He lifts his head, his lips lightly brushing mine just before we hear a loud crash from inside. Silas tenses, then pulls away, heading for the house without another word.

What do I do now? Run?

My eyes dart toward the front gate.

"The gate won't work with the power out. You can't leave, Noah," Silas says, as if he can hear my thoughts.

I pull myself to my feet, wiping my face with the back of my hands before chasing him into the darkened house. "Wait! Please! "

The first thing I hear when I step inside is Kendall screaming. Huddled on the staircase, she peers through the wooden posts, watching as Tate struggles against both Zach and Leo.

Tate has a knife in his hand, and Zach is leaning over, screaming while holding his hand to a knife wound somewhere near his hip. But the two of them are both football players as big as Silas. Leo gets an arm around Tate's neck, holding on tightly while Tate stabs him in the thigh.

"Ah, fuck! Get the knife!" Leo yells as blood saturates his white swim trunks and runs down his leg.

Before Zach can go for the knife, Silas takes him to the ground, punching him in the face a few times before putting him in a headlock with his legs wrapped around the front of his body, immobilizing him.

"Help!" Kendell screams again through tears. "Zach, no!"

And when I look back at Tate, Leo has him on the ground with the knife in his hand. He brings it overhead as if he's about to drive it into Tate's chest.

"No!" I scream. And without thinking, I grab a bottle of gin from the bar and break it over Leo's head. He falls forward onto the ground, releasing the knife. Tate grabs it and crawls out from under him, laughing, his teeth red with blood.

"Oh, god," he laughs. "That was fucking great."

"Leo?" I call out, crying as I shake him. "Leo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Glass from the bottle crunches beneath Tate's combat boots as he moves toward us. "It won't save you, but I'm glad you did that for me, baby. It made me really fucking happy. You still want to be a good girl for me, don't you? "

Leo groans, bringing his hand to his head. "Fuck…"

I shake my head. "He didn't do anything," I tell Tate. "He really didn't, I promise. He didn't do anything wrong—he even told them to stop."

Tate sighs, and then kneels in front of me, pressing his blade against my lips. "But did he fuck you?"

"What? N-no."

He bites his lip ring and shakes his head. "Noah, I've known you for your entire life. That means that I can tell when you're lying, and if he fucked you, then he did do something wrong, didn't he?"

"Tate…"

But before I can finish whatever sad ass excuse for a rebuttal I had, Leo pulls himself to his feet and tries to run. He doesn't make it far before he collapses on the floor, likely due to both the knife wound to his leg and the head injury, courtesy of me.

This is your fault, Noah.

Tate flashes me his bloody teeth once more before he casually strolls over to Leo, who is on all fours attempting to pull himself up again, and stabs him in the back until he stops moving.

"God, that feels good," he says. When he turns back toward me, his face, neck, and the front of his shirt are all splattered in blood. He nods at Silas. "Is that one dead?"

"No," Silas answers. "Just sleeping. I figured you'd want to kill him yourself."

"What about the girl? Where did she go?"

"Upstairs. "

"Fucking idiot. Tie him up, and I'll go get her…after I kill Noah."

I scramble to my feet and begin backtracking toward the staircase. I realize it makes me an idiot like Kendall, but I don't have a clear path to an exit, and even if I did, the fence is eight feet high.

"Silas!" I scream through tears. "Silas, please! Please, don't let him hurt me!"

But he doesn't even look up and instead drags Zach's limp, unconscious body down the hallway by the back of his shirt.

"He's not going to help you, Noah," Tate says.

Now, I turn and run up the staircase, afraid to look back when I hear Tate bounding after me, taking the steps two at a time. I turn into a bedroom and barely get the door closed and locked before he's on the other side.

"Noah…" he taunts in a singsong tone before ramming his body into the door. The wood buckles a bit, and I know it won't last long.

I look around for anything I can use as a weapon, but this spare room is almost entirely empty, save for some wall decor.

But there's a phone. A landline on the fucking desk. I almost cry with relief, but when I pick it up, there's no dial tone.

Shit.

"Let's play a game," he says before hitting the door again. "It's called 'Obey,' and I need you to open the door now, Noah. I promise it won't be that bad if you do it nicely."

"Tate?"

"What is it, baby?"

"You could just leave me in here. "

"I can't do that."

"But I loved Mia. It hurt me, too. Even when she didn't love me, I still loved her. You know I loved her."

"That's not why, Noah."

"Then why, Tate?" I sob.

"Because you've haunted me, and I can't be haunted anymore. I need to be clean."

There's something about that word— clean —that doesn't sound so bad. "Yeah," I tell him. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need that, too. Maybe I should just give up. There are things worse than death, right? I mean, death is just…nothing."

"Didn't really sign up for a philosophical debate. This is more of just a murder situation."

"You really hurt me. I want you to know that before I open the door. You killed me a long time ago; the fact that I'm still walking, talking, and breathing…it's just…a technicality."

Something about what I said must have angered him, because he rams the door again—harder this time—and I jump back.

"Open the goddamn door, Noah!"

I move toward the back of the room, the breeze from the open window sending shivers up my spine.

Wait. The window.

Only it's not just a window—I push the curtains aside, revealing a door leading out to a balcony running along the backside of the house. I could jump, and maybe… maybe I could clear the fence.

I'd probably break my legs, though.

Tate rams the door again, and I watch the wood splinter down the middle.

"Noah!"

I grip the railing hard in my sweaty palms. This is it—this is my last chance to decide.

Jump or face Tate.

I swallow hard and climb over the railing. And then, I make a mistake. I look straight down.

It looks like Kendall had the same idea. To my right, I find her corpse…skewered through the stomach by the fence's pointed finials.

Fuck.

Fuck, that could be me.

But the next sound of splintering wood leaves a hole big enough for Tate to reach his arm through and unlock the door. Fear beats my trepidation, and I jump.