Kane Richards Must Die (14 page)

I faintly remember whispering Suranne’s name as I drowned in the dark, bitter abyss that consumed me at this same time, every year.

“Y
ou still want me to come over? x’

I shut my phone, tossed it on the bed, and sat on the edge. I had tried ringing Kane after school yesterday when I realised he had gone home early, but he didn’t pick up so I decided to leave him alone. I didn’t want to come across as one of those clingy types, but Kane rang me almost every night. That is, if he wasn’t with me at the time.

I couldn’t even describe how happy I had been feeling recently. The Kane Richards of late was such a contrast to the person I was warned about and had observed my first few weeks here. He was so happy and loving that I couldn’t help but smile just thinking about him.

Every kiss and every touch from him left me breathless. The array of emotions that would surge through me every time we were together was indescribable. And it was pretty obvious since my first day here, from the string of girls that were always chasing after him, that he had to be good.

But I never thought he would be
that
good. I felt like an addict and he was the most delicious, euphoric, toxic drug. I could never have enough. And the look in his eyes, all dark, full of desire and lust, always drove me crazy.

However, our alone time had recently become very limited. Admittedly I was having withdrawal symptoms, sometimes even snapping at him, and getting irritated when he tried to reassure me that we would be alone soon. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t exactly blame his sister. She was amazing, and I was so relieved that she and their mother both liked me.

Looking back, my first thoughts on Kane’s mum had been bitter, disgusted at how she could be so selfish. Drowning her sorrows in alcohol and leaving her son to pick up the pieces. When she first greeted me, my reply came out harsher than expected, but the shame and sorrow that flickered in her eyes—large, brown expressive eyes like Kane’s—just made me feel guilty. She looked so healthy and happy now that she was getting counselling, and we got along perfectly.

But there was an uneasy twist in my stomach as I thought about what this day meant to Kane. Today marked four years since his father’s death, and the pain and grief in his eyes yesterday seemed to be reflected through pretty much everything I laid my eyes on. The sky was grey and a strong wind whipped the tree branches in various directions outside of my window, casting an almost eerie shadow in my room. I couldn’t fathom why a feeling of panic and nervousness was spreading through me, so I brushed it off, scowling at my childish fears before padding off to the bathroom to get ready to see him.

As soon as I got out of the shower and dried my hair, I reached for my phone, still lying on the bed. No new messages. He still hadn’t texted back. I wondered if it was best for me to stay here and wait for him to contact me instead, but he had told me he wanted me with him today. He needed me to get him through this, and I wanted to be there to support him, too.

Dark clouds rolled in outside of my window, causing me to hit the light so I could see to get dressed. It was only like two in the afternoon, and from the look of things outside the window it was likely to rain today.

I sighed, deciding to just go to Kane’s and talk to him, or just sit there in silence. Anything he needed me to do, I would do.

Once dressed I went downstairs into the kitchen and saw my aunt sitting at the table reading a newspaper. She lifted her head and smiled brightly as I went to sit opposite her.

“Hey Kiddo, what ya doin’ today?” she asked, licking her thumb lightly before turning the page.

“Kane,” I mumbled, and she frowned at me disapprovingly. For some reason she wasn’t all that keen on him and didn’t always approve of me going over to visit him, but I told her that his mum and sister would be there and she stopped grumbling.

“Still,” she muttered dryly, and I groaned in irritation.

“It’s the anniversary of his father’s death today, give him a break.”

She nodded but the frown was still on her face as she turned her attention back to the paper. I rang for a cab, because I still wasn’t familiar with the bus system here, and it was way too far for me to walk. When it came, I kissed my aunt on the cheek, whispering a goodbye before running out, sliding into the backseat, giving the man Kane’s address.

I watched the sky as we drove, wondering if it was going to storm, and something told me to turn around. To go back home and wait until tomorrow, but once again, I shook my head.

This was Kane we were talking about. I had no reason to feel like this.

We pulled up to his driveway, and I paid the man, thanking him as I got out. The dark sky set a gloomy hue of uncertainty upon the house, its bricks looking almost sinister. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to walk up to the front door.

I rang the doorbell, pushing away the sickness that rolled around in my stomach and the urge to suddenly heave from the nerves that were spiralling within me. I waited for ages, just standing there, my breathing heavy until I heard footsteps and a low, mumbled “I’m coming,” which I knew belonged to Kane. I smiled brightly as I heard him unlock the door before he pulled it open.

My smile disappeared as soon as I laid eyes on him. He was dressed in dark jeans, which hung deliciously low on his hips, and his torso and feet were bare. His hair was a mess, just the way I liked it, but his appearance didn’t make me squirm with want. I didn’t feel a rush of desire stab through me at his half-naked appearance. I frowned looking at him; there was something unusual and distinct about his . . . stance?

He let me in, and I narrowed my eyes at the tall glass in his hand, half filled with a clear liquid. I knew Kane only drank bottled water.

“Jesus, Kane, is that all
vodka
?” I asked irritably, knowing how he usually despised any form of alcohol and the effects it had. You only had to look at his mother for proof of that, and the fact that he was drinking right now wasn’t a good sign. By the way he was swaying slightly, I guessed it wasn’t his first glass.

He dropped his head to look at the glass and shrugged lazily before shuffling up the stairs without a word. I stared after him nervously, then turned around and closed the door. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and rested my head on the door for a few seconds, and with a groan I pulled myself away and followed Kane up the stairs to his bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and anxiously stepped in, but scanning his room, I found it empty. I walked further in, stopping at the middle. A loud bang over my shoulder caused me to jump. I swivelled around to find the bedroom door slammed shut and Kane leaning against it. His face cold and calm as he gazed at me blankly.

“Sorry to scare you, baby,” he spoke, his voice calm, and chillingly
different
.

“Uh . . . I—it’s OK,” I stammered weakly, frowning at him as I tried to place what it was about his appearance and demeanour that had changed.

He laughed bitterly as he raised the glass to his lips and downed it in one gulp. I gaped at him, shocked.

“Umm . . . Kane,” I spoke softly, but his head snapped up in my direction, and his eyes narrowed at me menacingly.

“What?” he hissed, his voice dark, his lips curled up into a sneer as his fingers wrapped around the glass even more tightly, his knuckles protruding against the skin.

I swallowed heavily, unwilling to let my inner fear overtake me. This was a bad day for him. I needed to remember that.

“Maybe you should . . . put the glass down.” I spoke softly, slowly, my eyes gentle as they roamed over his face. Something about his features was different but I couldn’t quite place what.

“Fuck what I should do,” he muttered into the now empty glass, a displeased frown upon his unfamiliar face. I took a cautious step closer toward him and his eyes immediately flickered back to mine.

And then I gasped.

It was his eyes. That’s what was so different about him, the thing I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. They were no longer the light, smooth, swirling chocolate-brown that showed a million emotions.

They were black, but not in lust, or desire.

They were cold. Hard. Distant.

He continued to glare at me, as if I was some enemy about to attack him and he was warning me off. His eyes screamed at me, burned at me, but all the while, they remained empty and unfeeling. They communicated nothing and everything at the same time. This was not Kane. This was someone dark and dangerous; my inner instincts were shrieking at me to be on alert.

“What you doin’ just standin’ there baby? Hmm? I don’t even get a kiss
hello
anymore?”

His bone-chillingly cold voice sent a shiver down my spine, his words sounded automatic, unnatural. They had a slight mocking edge, as if they were part of some hidden joke. He tilted his head, giving me his signature crooked grin which, if it had really been Kane, would have made me blush, smile shyly, and just want to kiss his face off, but now?

That grin just looked . . .
Evil
.

I took a deep breath, and stepped closer, watching him closely the whole time. His eyes still had that blank look that screamed at me to back off, but the smirk on his face increased with every step closer I took. My body felt torn, desperately wanting to comfort him and snap him out of this place he was in, and at the same time desperately wanting to run the other way.

I was having an inner battle. Should I let myself be comforted in the feel of his arms around me, or stay put and gently coax him out of his state of detachment?

But my internal questions were futile, because without even realising it, I had moved halfway across the room, as if drawn to him like a magnet without my permission, and even though the look on his face was alarming, I found myself continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

Kane’s black and vacant eyes continued to smoulder at me as I walked over to him, hypnotised by his stare. He must have realised this also, because I could have sworn a ghostly, amused chuckle escape his curled lips, and filled the air with a thick layer of tension.

J
ust a kiss.

It’s just a kiss.

I’d kissed Kane plenty of times before, so why now did I feel so apprehensive, reluctant?

But if I felt so reluctant, why was I right in front of Kane, letting him wrap his arms stiffly around my waist?

The thudding in my chest was uncontrollable as Kane’s lips moved around mine. He lifted an arm, and threaded his fingers through the back of my hair, pushing my face closer to his whilst he kissed me with abandon. And although I knew this was wrong, the tingling sensation whenever he kissed me was still in full force. But I knew we needed to talk about this. I had to see at least a flicker of compassion or love in Kane’s currently dead, blank eyes.

“No, Kane, I—I—I . . .” I was too breathless to finish my sentence, by this time, his lips were trailing down my neck, and across my throat. The feeling against my skin was amazing, as usual. I shuddered from the tingling of his kisses and tried my best to hold back a moan, but it was too much to bear. I bit my lip but a very quiet moan still escaped. I felt his lips curve up into a smile against my skin, and he breathed a sinister laugh.

“It’s OK, Suranne,” he murmured against my skin, his voice monotone, lifeless. “Just let your body go with it. Every girl I have caves in the end.”

Mmm. Wait,
what
?I pushed away from his grip and narrowed my eyes at him.

“What did you just say?” I hissed, glaring fiercely at him as a stab of anger and hurt pierced me.

“Well come on, babe, we both know I’m irresistible, you might as well stop fighting it,” he chuckled darkly, his face holding no emotion whatsoever.

I stared at him in shock, my jaw agape.
Never
had he talked about me as if I was one of his general ‘girls’.
Ever
.

“You drunken
pig
!” I retorted, clenching my teeth in anger and to get a grip on my emotions.

“Mmm, you know you sound so hot when you’re angry. Call me that again.”

He smirked, leaning his head back against the door, his startlingly black eyes glaring down at me. I took a deep breath and walked closer to him, ignoring the silent shrieking in his eyes warning me to stay back.

“Kane, we need to talk, you
know
that. Please, you’re not acting yourself right now,” I pleaded, trapping his head in my hands firmly, forcing him to look at me, but his eyes were glassy.

He wasn’t Kane right now, but it wasn’t until then that I realised just how far away the real Kane,
my Kane
, actually was. I let go of his face and went to move past him, wanting to go downstairs and get a glass of water. A nervous sweat was building up at the nape of my neck and my heart was hammering wildly. I finally understood why I had felt so uneasy on my way here. It was a silent warning that Kane would be like this. I frowned, wondering about his mother’s and sister’s whereabouts.

As I curled my hand around the brass door handle and pulled it open slightly, Kane’s arm shot out, slamming the door closed loudly and I yelped in surprise.

“Where you goin’, baby?” He sneered, his brown eyes still black and burning with a foreign, sinister shine as he gazed unseeingly at me. He ran the back of his hand down my cheek and I shivered from his touch, almost recoiling from the dark persona he had become.

“I . . . I think I would like some water,” I whispered inaudibly, swallowing heavily and far too afraid to meet his gaze. My chest ached for him, the
real
him, and I could feel a lump in my throat burning beneath my skin.

 He hummed, and pushed himself up against me, ducking his head so that his lips were close to my ear.

“I think I would like my father back. But that’s not gonna happen, is it?” He spoke sharply, his voice like shining, deadly shards of glass that cut through my heart and left me bleeding for him. My chest was heaving, and I was biting my lip trying to keep the frightened tears at bay, but still he continued.

“I think I’d like to be able to go to bed, and for once . . . just
once
, not have the memories of his death replay through my mind again and again.” His voice rose as he spoke, and his tone grew even harsher with every heart-wrenching syllable.

He pulled away and took a few steps back, the anger and unrecognisable pain that blazed in his onyx eyes took my breath away. My stomach tightened in turmoil and I could feel my body shaking under his intense stare.

“I
fucking think
,” he spat at me, one of his fists clenched uncomfortably whilst his other was still tightly wrapped around the empty glass, “that I should be able to feel like I done my father proud, but then!” he growled, his eyes no longer focused, staring through me, “I realise I can’t. Because every time I come
home
, I have to see how my mother became a careless, depressed, comatose
drunk
!”

I let a sob escape my chest and flinched as he raised his hand that was wrapped around the glass and with undeniable force, slammed it into the wall. The piercing sound of the glass shattering, breaking into tiny pieces, undid me and I fell to the floor, crying and shaking as the fissured pieces of crystal stared back at me from the floor, representing my resolve at that point.

A large thud registered in my ears and I weakly lifted my head, making out Kane’s slumped body next to his bed through my hazy tears. He had his knees up, his arms resting on them as his hands held his head. “I . . . fucking . . . think,” he murmured weakly, his voice breaking and sending the final spear through my chest, as if I could feel his pain. His shaking form proved to me that he was crying, each sob echoing through the room like a wounded animal begging for assistance. His cries got louder, alternating between sounds of sorrow and pain, to growls of anger and frustration as he combed his fingers through his hair furiously.

On shaky knees, I slowly crawled over to him, my remorseful sniffles mingling with his aggrieved sobs. I took a deep breath once I was a few inches away from him, and lifted my hand to place on his knees.

“Don’t.” His command was low, cold, and lifeless.

“Kane, I . . .” I trailed off, lost for words and feeling utterly helpless. I didn’t know what to do or say that could possibly bring him back. He was too far gone.

“Don’t even touch me,” he whispered into his hands, his voice one hundred percent monotone and emotionless, which only worried me even more. At least before, I’d been able to hear the irritation in his tone, feel the anger behind his words. But now there was . . .
nothing
. Nothing but lifeless verbs and nouns laced with limp connectors.

It had begun to rain outside; the view from the windows folded into a dark, grey, slithering wet blur as the continuous beating of the rain thudded against the glass, showering the room in a noise of misty hums.

The room became a dull shadow, and I could faintly make out the curve of Kane’s jaw and the outline of his unruly dark hair peeking out through his long, toned fingers. I racked my brain for something to say, thinking back to all the times I had helped him before. How I didn’t have to think about what to say then, but just came out with whatever was on my mind. I thought about these past few weeks. The sweet, flirty kisses to the full on, passion-filled ones. The light, innocent brushes of his hands, to the meaningful gropes of his slender fingers, each touch sending a surge of desire rushing through my veins.

I thought of his smile, and how just the mere sight of it ignited a warmth in my chest. I thought of the chocolate brown of his eyes, and the endless number of expressions I could distinguish from his stare.

And as these memories filled my mind, they took over my soul. I felt them spread through my limbs, slowly trickling through my veins and filling me up with such an intense emotion that I gasped loudly and formed the only words that were willing to be said. And so I smiled, a large, victorious smile, because I knew these words would do the job. I
knew
that I could fix him again.

“Kane,” I breathed, “I love you.”

The words slipped from my lips and swirled into the thick air, wrapping around his body and trying to sink into every pore of his skin and consume him like they did me.

I was still smiling as I waited for a change in his position; a sign of his healing, or even a reply so that I could exhale the large breath which I had been holding.

But nothing happened.

The room grew impossibly darker as his silence overtook my words and crushed them, stamping them into the ground as if they never existed. Dread coursed through me, and a silent, lone tear escaped my cheek as a fierce pain spread, making it impossible to even breathe.

“Please Kane . . .” I choked, now reversing the roles and pleading with him to save me instead.

He didn’t
move
.

He didn’t love me.

And from the still, statue-like form of his position, he showed no sign that he ever would.

The rain was just a light drizzle now as I picked myself up, my body feeling heavy and weak.

He still didn’t move when I reached for his bedroom door. Or when I turned the handle.

He remained still when I stepped through the door and turned back to him, standing in his hallway looking in. I slowly shut the door, closing away the image of his marble folded body; my mind flickered to the wrecked glass on the floor, but as I thought about it, the image transformed, until they were no longer pieces of crystal.

But shattered and beaten pieces of a red, fleshy organ no longer situated in the confines of my broken and ruptured chest.