The Collective

Chapter Twenty-Three

Annie

Present Day

     My first boyfriend threw rocks at my window freshman year of high school. He also stood outside my window with a boom box. He was obsessed with all things eighties and nineties. He never grew out of it and we went our separate ways. Considering he moved to Ohio sophomore year, and he hated me until the day he left, it probably wasn't him throwing rocks at my window.

     I pulled the blankets over my head. It was probably all in my head...

     The pinging didn't stop. I groaned. I tossed the covers off, dragging the blanket tucked into the window down. I threw open my curtains, fully prepared to scream at him. I was looking forward to it. I popped the window open, dodging a rock. I scowled. Did he want me dead, too? Actually, that was a maybe, leaning towards a yes. We really didn't part amicably. But, really, what was he planning to do? Pelt me with tiny, garden sized pebbles? I leaned out, staring at the culprit.

     Who was not my high school love. Nope, it was Sarah?

     Except Sarah was dead. She was dead because I killed her. Two people who had never been anything but nice to me, and I killed them.

     I ducked under the window frame. I was seeing ghosts now? That was just... great. Loved that. I peered over the edge. She wasn't there anymore. I leaned out farther.

     A head of blue-black hair popped over the windowsill.

     I scrambled back, falling over my own feet. I landed on my back, as legs with fishnet stockings crawled over my window.  Two black, leather gloves reached towards me. I shoved them away, stumbling to my feet. I reached for the door. The gloves latched around my wrist, pulling me back. I rolled onto my back, digging my heels in. It didn't help. The arms in the black gloves were exceptionally strong. They pinned me, while the fishnet stockings pressed onto my legs.

     "Stop! Stop. Annie, come on. It's me, look it's me." The light switched on.

     A laugh bubbled out, and once I started, I couldn't stop.

     Sarah sank back. She stared at me. "This has gotta stop."

     Says the dead girl.

     She leaned in close. "You stop, or I slap you. Your parents are gonna come in here and I don't do so good with parents."

     "So, do it." She wasn't going to hurt me. She couldn't.

     She slapped me. And it actually hurt. I stopped laughing. I stared at her hand, at her hair, at her smirk, taking her all in. "You're real."

     She nodded.

     "You're not dead."

     "Dead? Why would I be dead?"

     "Alex? You okay? Mom said she heard you fall." Dad knocked on the door.

     I got my lack of ability to keep a straight face from him. I motioned for Sarah to be quiet. She shot me a well duh look. I composed myself, beating the hysteria back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just watching a movie."

     "Okay. Well, don't stay up too late."

     "Yeah."

     "Goodnight." His footsteps retreated.

     I turned back to Sarah. She was still there. I switched the lights off. I thought nothing would be better than seeing her again but now that she was here, I kinda wanted to hurl.

     "Now, why would I be dead?"

     "Because," I raked my fingers through my hair. Words had power. And they hurt. If I didn't say it out loud, if I could keep this contained, they couldn't hurt anyone else.

     She stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, waiting for me to speak.

     "Because, I killed you and Sam. And I am so sorry." I stood, waiting for her to hit me, or scream, or throw something at me. Something besides stare at me.

     She laughed, pushing herself to her feet. She started to pace, pausing by the window, but only for a moment. "I kept reading the reports after you ditched me. I found all kinds of goodies on Max and on Oversight and everyone else. There were a lot of things I will never be able to unknow. Ethan was... very thorough." She cringed. "I was flicking through a particularly disturbing piece on Ethan and some chick named Stacy something or another, when Max showed up." She pulled the curtains closed, her movements jerky as she strode across the room.

     My heart rate spiked. Stacy Gardner, the same woman who shot at me. That was it. It was official. My life had become a daytime soap opera.

     Sarah plopped down on my bed. She grabbed a throw pillow I'd tossed aside. She picked on the tassels. "I tried to stop him, but he grabbed me, and stabbed a needle into my arm." She rubbed her arm. The fading edges of a bruise peeked out above her collar. She rubbed her hands against her legs. "I heard you scream and three gunshots. Next thing I knew, Sam was dead, and you were gone." She stilled, staring at me. Her tone softened. "You didn't kill me. Probably didn't hurt Sam, either."

     Relief tore through me. My legs gave out, and I ended up on the ground. I stayed down.

     I didn't kill her. She was here, breathing. She was going to have an amazing life.

     I didn't kill her. But Sam. Sam was dead. And it wasn't my fault.

     It wasn't my fault. I didn't kill him, but he was dead. He was dead because of Max. Max killed him. He killed him, and he almost killed me, and he hurt Ethan. We were almost happy, almost married, and he was finally back and Max took that from me.

     He needed to go.

     I got to my feet. I started throwing random things in a bag. Mom had unpacked my bag and I didn't have the energy to tell her I didn't want it that way.

     Sarah rushed up as I opened the door. She closed it. "Stop. It's the middle of the night. What are you doing?"

     "Max." He deserved to die, and he had everyone fooled into thinking he was some kind of hero. Screw him. Screw this.

     "Hey, hey, hey. I love this new badassery, but if we go now, we're going to get ourselves killed. We will leave first thing in the morning. I promise."

     I stiffened. She was right. "Hungry?" My mom brought me soup, and I still hadn't touched it. Kind of didn't want to.

     She shrugged. "I could eat."

     I curled up in bed. I had a plan, well a loose outline of a plan.
     This ended with him or me and I wanted to live.