Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (32 page)

It was easy.

Maybe in the pit of his heart, he might not be completely convinced that I’m okay, but I know deep down that I only say that to myself to feel better.

I lied to him and it was easy.

Then the tears start forming, a new crack in my surface starting to spread.

One pain disappears into a new, fresh mark that will never leave: I have betrayed the person I love and trust and it was easy.  It was easy and he can never know.

Setup

Chapter 14

“I play dead. It stops the hurting.”—Bjork

It doesn’t feel like morning when I’m awake. I haven’t slept much the past two days, but I’m practically relieved at that fact. Not that I feel any better about myself, but at least I know I can’t do bad things and then sleep through the night.

My phone is ringing, the sound slamming right into my head. The bite on my waist feels tight when I reach over to my nightstand to unplug it from the charger so I can answer it.

Myles has kept his distance, so I know it’s most likely not him. I guess he wants to give me space after the combination of finding out about Michael and then . . . everything else. I force myself to stop thinking about it as I hit the answer button.

“
Hello?” My voice is hoarse.

“
What are you doing?” Boo is yelling. “You were supposed to meet me at ten!”

Slowly, I hoist my aching body upwards so I’m leaning against the headboard. I have to rub my eyes so I can read the time on my alarm clock. Twelve.

“Sorry,” I say.

“
I woke you up, didn’t I?” he accuses.

I stretch in an effort to ease the tightness in my waist.
“What? No.”

“
Well,” he says, unconvinced. “If you’ve been up a while then I’m sure you’re dressed and ready to leave.”

“
Sure,” I bluff, throwing the covers off of me and slowly standing up to open drawers for some clothes.

“
Good,” he says. “I’m at your door.”

Then he hangs up.
 

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands as I shuffle to my front door.

Boo already has a hand on his hip when he greets me. “And you’re not even dressed,” he complains.

“
Good morning to you too,” I mutter as he lets himself in.

“
Okay then,” he says eagerly when the door is shut. “One of the guys from the band dropped me off so they could take the gear over to the apartment,” he explains, running a hand through his slick black hair. “Go get dressed. We have to meet them in time to help them unload.”

Boo got invited to play drums for another band at a basement show tonight. I completely forgot that I offered to help him set up instruments. It’s better than sitting at home and trying to avoid Myles. At least this way, I have an excuse as to why I’m too busy to see him.

Instead of rushing, I fill the coffeemaker and set it to brew. I remember what Myles said the morning after he bit me, that I should eat healthier until I feel better.

There’s no need for my body to feel better when my mind is so messed up, so I settle on just having the coffee for breakfast.

“And how are we getting there?” I ask Boo, more to just take my mind off of things than anything else.

He smirks when I look at him.
“We have to walk, Sunshine.”

***

“So, how much further, Boo?” I ask after we’ve been walking for about ten blocks. He had said the building wasn’t that far, but I’m seriously doubting that we’ll ever get there. Sweat clings to me underneath the protective layers of clothing. My chest aches, my head throbs, and I feel like I’m going to be seeing that cup of coffee I gulped down again really soon.  

I adjust my coat and my glasses. The umbrella I’m holding only seems to trap in the heat rather than shade me from it.

“We’re almost there,” Boo says. Despite his tank top and shorts, he looks like he’s sweating even more than I am.

We walk for a few minutes in silence aside from huffing and puffing.

“So, are you and Myles taking a break or something?” he asks.

“
What?” I wipe sweat from my chin with my free hand. “No. We’ve just both been busy.”

He snorts.
“Yeah, I know how much you like setting up equipment.”

I have no response.

Thankfully, Boo doesn’t push the subject any more than that.

“
How’s Jade?” he asks instead.

I shrug.
“We talk on the phone a lot more now,” I offer. “He’s. . .”

I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that question. Am I supposed to tell Boo that whenever I hear my brother’s voice, I can hear that something in him is broken? That
we haven’t talked about the hospital, the funeral, or Stevie once?

“
Yeah,” he says like I finished my sentence. “It’s going to be rough.”

We round a corner that leads us onto a street of multicolored stone apartments. They’re all identical, old, rectangular shapes except one’s yellow, one’s white, and one’s pink.

Finally, Boo and I stop walking when we’re in front of them. “Give you one guess which one I’m playing at.”

The pink building is on the corner, and I recognize Boo’s van parked on the side of it.
“Nice,” I say.

I follow him to his van and he slides the door open. He lets me climb around the drum kit, guitars, and amps so I can hand him stuff and not have to worry about the sun.

“Where’s the rest of the band?” I ask, lifting the snare and handing it off to Boo; he’s lining up all of the instruments against the building.

“
We were supposed to meet at ten,” he reminds me. “They loaded up everything from the club and brought it here, so I agreed to bring it all inside.”

I pick up the last amp and scoot it over to him.

“Okay,” he says once it’s in line with everything else. “Time to lug it
inside
now.”

I whip a sweaty s
ection of hair out of my face. “Awesome.” I slam the door to his van shut with more force than needed.

“
Hey are you okay?” he asks suddenly.

It catches me off guard. I’ve been dizzy and slightly weak
since . . . Evan, but I thought I was doing a good enough job at hiding it. “Yeah, why?”

“
Like, you don’t need to take a break or anything?”

I stare at him as a response.

“Okay, okay.” Boo turns toward the door of the apartment, struggling more than a little to toss me the keys so I can open it for him because he’s trying to juggle his cymbals. “You just look pale is all.”

Oh no. I hope how crappy I feel on the inside isn’t that noticeable.
              When the door opens up, there isn’t much to look at. It’s a dark, cramped space with old, dirty couches with cigarette burns and various other stains on the cushions. “Jesus, this place is a dump,” I say to change the subject.

I turn and grab onto the
kick drum before shutting the door with my foot.

I follow him through what should be a kitchen, but there isn’t any furniture in it besides a rusty white fridge.

Boo grunts, stopping at the door that must lead to the basement. He turns the knob and begins walking down the stairs, wobbling a little.

It’s dim inside, but there’s enough light to see. The basement is completely empty except for a coffee table, a less grody couch, and makeshift stage area that’s marked by a red and green flowered throw rug.

“Just set it wherever,” Boo says.

I place the kick drum on the ground and he arranges the cymbals on the floor next to it. Then we head back up the stairs for more instruments. We don’t say much to each other because we’re too out of breath.

When all of the equipment is finally in the basement, Boo and I set to work reassembling his drum kit.

Boo
wobbles a little when he stands upright again.

“
You okay?” I ask now.

He
spreads his arms out to steady himself. “I think so,” he says after he’s sure that he’s not going to fall over. “It’s just so hot.”

“
Yeah,” I agree.

He leans his hands on his knees, staring at the ground and catching his breath.

“You want some water or something?” I ask, starting to get a little worried that he might actually pass out.

He shakes his head and sits down at the drums.
“I’m okay,” he says. “Just need a break.”

There’s the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs.
“You think they’re back?” I ask.

Boo shrugs.
“I hope so.”

I hear heavy boots on the bare stairway. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Boo put his head in his hands. Before I can ask him if he’s okay again, the person who’s coming down the stairs distracts me.

“Sophie,” a male voice says.

It sounds familiar. Like it was once deep but now the vocal cords are stretched too tight. At the sound of it, I’m cold, like I’m running in the woods as it snows.

When I turn around, the person the voice belongs to is standing there.

He’s wearing a suit and tie like he’s going on a date, but no amount of nice clothing can hide how thin he is. He also has short blond hair, sunken in cheekbones, and dark brown eyes.

No.

“
Boo,” I say because I can’t think of anything else to do and I can’t move.

“
Do not worry about him,” Michael says, finally standing at the foot of the stairs. He crosses his arms. “He will not be able to move for a while, but if you cooperate, no harm will come to him.”

I turn to Boo, who has his head in his hands, his eyes closed. He’s not moving at all. I gulp. I take a step forward, foolishly thinking I can get away.

“Do you really think that is wise?”

My back is against the wall before I can get so much as a foot from the stairs. My breath leaves my lungs too fast, and I find myself trying to catch it long after it’s left my mouth. I stare down at the cement floor beneath my boots. I can’t look into his face. This can’t be real. It’s another nightmare. Someone else’s memory. Anything but this.

“Do you know how long I had to wait in this filthy house?” Michael asks. “How much time it took to arrange this meeting?”

His hand grazes my chest then, right where Myles bit me.
“Ah,” he says to himself. “Someone has been busy since I saw her last.”

I manage to back away an inch more, but he only pushes into me harder, using his other hand to grasp onto the healing wound at my waist.

A small squeak escapes me.

Michael laughs to himself. Then he lets go.

“Look at me,” he says.

It’s so stupid, but I shake my head no like a child, keeping my eyes trained on the grey surface under my shoes.

Then I have no choice. Something slams into the side of my head. I don’t feel pain when it happens. It’s just like last time.

Last time I ended up with a bottle of pills down my throat and a broken rib.

Last time I got stabbed and almost died in the hospital.

Last time he promised he would be back.

And now he is.

My head moves upward without my permission, slowly taking in Michael’s heavy black shoes, his black pants, his white shirt and shiny, red silk tie. Then his chin, his bony jaw and protruding cheekbones. Until I’m finally eye to eye with the monster that is Michael.

“This was easier than I thought,” he says. “I would have thought someone would be keeping an eye on you.” Michael smiles to himself. “Do you like the suit?”

“
Why?” is all that leaves my mouth.

“
I wanted to look nice for the occasion,” he says. “And since I couldn't attend your friend's funeral, I thought I could wear it for yours.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

He laughs. “Come now,” he says. “You could not have honestly believed you were safe.”

I did. For a short amount of time, I thought so.

Like I’ve answered him but he didn’t hear it, Michael moves his face close to mine. His breath smells like rust when he speaks.

“
I tried to be reasonable the first time,” he says. “It was not my intention to make you suffer.”

Hands around my throat. I can’t breathe.

“But Myles has made it clear what I must do in order to be taken seriously.”

And that’s the last thing he says to me.

My head is hit again, and this time, it hurts. It
really
hurts. Red and black spots form behind my eyes. My knees buckle and I try to stay up, leaning against the cold cement wall for support, but it’s no use. I’m sinking.