Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,61

ground. My palms smart at the impact, the air whooshing from my lungs. Looking beneath the car, I see the clerk’s lifeless body, eyes open, staring at me from the other side of the car. My pulse roars in my ears. Tears leak from my eyes, mixing with the rainwater. I manage to gain movement in my legs, and with everything I have in me, I take off running without looking back to see if he’s chasing me. Fire burns my calves. Air is like acid in my lungs. I run until my lungs seize and my legs feel like they’re filled with stone, throwing myself at the coffee shop door. Struggling to grasp the handle, a startled customer opens it for me, and I crash inside, skidding across the floor, landing painfully on my hands and knees, dripping wet and shaking like a wounded animal.

“What the fuck?” Charlotte cries out. People whisper, their eyes piercing into me.

“He…he…killed him,” I choke out. “At the grocery store,” I finish, a sob ricocheting through my body like a ping pong ball.

“Who? Who killed who?” someone new asks. A crowd has gathered around me. Someone’s arms circle me in their embrace. “She’s shaking. Someone do something,” a distressed voice calls out, but I don’t know who it belongs too.

“I’m calling the police,” another says.

Warm material encompasses me as a jacket is placed over my shoulders.

“What happened, Lizzy?” the voice distorts.

“I was in the parking lot…and…and the clerk came to my window…then he just hit the window—his body—there was someone behind him. I ran—I got out and ran,” I sob. Guilt washes over me. What if the kid wasn’t dead? Should I have stayed to fight him off? Jack. Where was Jack? Oh god, I left him!

“Jack,” I scream, looking to the door. “Oh god, Jack.” I can’t breathe. I grasp at the air. My throat restricts and closes. I’m suffocating. I try to stand, but my legs fail me. “I can’t breathe,” I cry out.

“You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“You’re safe now. Come out of there.”

“I can’t breathe,” I cry out, darkness closing in around the edges of my sight.

“You’re breathing right now. Try to calm down.”

Marco…Jack…Jack…

Blank blackness steals all the color, all the air.

Jack. I lost Jack.

Twenty-Six

Sharp stabbing shoots through my hand, jolting me awake. Bright lights hurt my eyes, making me squint to see through the slits. “Where am I?” I croak, lifting my hand. There’s a tube stuck in it. Fully opening my eyes, the room floods in. Charlotte jumps up from a chair, rushing toward me. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“What happened?” I ask, but the words stick to my tongue when the images of the clerk hitting the car window batters my mind.

“Jack?” I ask.

“I’m here.”

“Convenient,” Stephan growls from somewhere in the room. I scoot to a sitting position, taking in the IV and white sheet draped over me.

Catching my gaze, Jack strokes hair from my face. “You were dehydrated.” His smile is one of sorrow. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was gone for minutes.”

“Again, convenient.”

“Back the hell off before you’re the one in the bed,” Jack growls in a warning.

“He’s just saying what we’re all thinking.” Charlotte folds her arms, eyeballing him.

“Guys?” No way. I’d know if he had that darkness inside him. I’d sense it, right?

“Come on, Liz. He has you brainwashed. We don’t even know who the hell he is,” Charlotte snaps. She looks exhausted, dry, makeup-streaked tears on her cheeks.

“You just don’t like him because I do. First Stephan and now Jack,” I argue.

“This is different, and you know it!”

“Is it? How? You don’t like it when men see past you to me. It’s why you’re such a bitch to Stephan,” I accuse, sick of this shit.

Running a hand through his hair, Stephan keeps looking at Charlotte, then the tiled floor.

With a mocking laugh, Charlotte sneers, “Stephan is an asshole who bangs me whenever you blow him off, so you got that one wrong. And you’re wrong about this one too, you just can’t see it yet. You will when he’s cutting you up and stuffing you in a duffle bag. But I won’t be around to become his next victim. I’m done.”

Her words wound, her tongue a whip lashing out and cutting deep.

Stephan makes a grab for her, but she pulls free, growling, “Don’t fucking touch me. I’ve worn enough of your bruises for one lifetime.”

My mouth is agape as I stare at Stephan in disbelief. They hate each other, how