one of my grandmother’s hands because my other is locked tightly in a sling. The tears flow freely down my cheeks as I look at the casket being rolled out onto the streets. Six men shove it into a black car while we watch from a distance.
Everyone thought I’d be afraid of cars after what happened, but I’m not. It’s not the car’s fault that the road was too narrow at the bend and that we fell off a deep cliff.
I swallow hard.
There isn’t much family left to mourn, just me and my grandpa and grandma. That’s it.
Will my tears be enough?
If I cried hard enough, would Mommy hear it?
Would she come back?
Mommy said she and Daddy would always come back to me when they left … but she lied.
I sniff as Grandma squeezes my hand a little tighter. The second casket is rolled out of the funeral home, and my grandpa walks out too, burying a tissue deep into his pocket. Mommy once said grandparents don’t ever cry because they have already cried all the tears they had, but I guess she was wrong.
Just like she was wrong when she told me she would always be here for me.
That she’d cheer me on every time I got a good grade and watch me grow old.
My heart aches as the six men load up the second casket too, and the doors are closed, the harsh sound like a slap to my face. The pain in my arm doesn’t even come close to the pain in my heart.
And as the driver starts the car, and my grandparents whisk me away into theirs, I can’t help but stare at the one my mommy and daddy are in right now, wondering why they’re not here … and I am.
Amelia
Present
I grab a cab to Club M, the nearest club I frequent. Tonight, I can really use a pick-me-up under a heavy bass to drown out the pain with noise and pretend everything is okay. I smile at the bouncer out front, who nods at me when I show him my ID, and then I go inside.
I look around at seats in the corners and the two staircases leading to the second floor that oversees the rest of the dance floor. Maybe I’ll hang out there as I’m not in the mood for dancing, and the usual popular spot seems empty tonight.
Heading to the bar, I order a drink, then make my way upstairs. It’s still busy with a bustling crowd dancing in the corner, and the couch in the back is obviously taken by a bunch of rich dudes and their posse of money-hungry girls.
I pay them no attention as I lean over the banister and wistfully stare out at the scene below, at the people dancing their night away, blissfully unaware of the emotional gash inside my heart bleeding out onto the dance floor below.
“Wishing the night away?”
I prop myself up on my elbow and look up at a man I never saw approaching from the side. A man I instantly recognize. Green eyes, smoldering look, slick dark hair, chiseled jaw. It’s him.
My jaw drops, and my veins flood with adrenaline as my eyes search his. How did he get inside? Did he come here for me?
He takes a step forward. “Miss me?”
I look over the banister at the people below, but no one down there or any of the people behind me know what’s happening. Everyone seems unaware of the peril I’m in … except me.
Both staircases are blocked, one by plenty of guests, and to get to the other, I’d have to pass him. And something tells me that’s going to be hard, maybe even impossible.
I gulp and contemplate my options as I peer down at the crowd, wondering if I could make the jump without breaking a bone. Probably not.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says, immediately drawing my attention away again.
“Who are you? Did you follow me?” I mutter, taking a step back again, my hand still clutching the railing.
His brow rises playfully. “Is that really the question you want to ask me?”
He doesn’t stop getting closer, and I can’t help but pull back into my shell, wondering how I’m going to escape. If I even can.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, placing a hand on the banister too. “Not unless you ask me to.”
My eyes immediately zoom in on the spot where he kept his gun last time, but his expensive suit covers it. He