Olympus Drive Book 3: According to Plan

Chapter 67

Brianna

The sun is slowly rising, like even it doesn't want to come out today. It's late, or really early, when we get done with the police. I take a hot shower and then I start crying again. I can't get over him lying there. So gone. So dead.

But Axel is alive. Axel is alive and he's suicidal. When the cops called us ---apparently Axel was Phoenix's emergency contact---they said that he was brain dead. They said he was gone and to come. Axel just walked over to the carving block, pulled out a knife, and tried to cut his own throat. I stopped him. He was stronger than me, but I put my hand between the knife and his skin. He wouldn't hurt me. He eventually broke down sobbing as I told him we needed to go to the hospital.

I have to help Axel. I don't know how though. The police are trying to arrest who did it, they said.

Axel's parents are up of course. His step mother is crying. He refused to see them or the lawyers, apparently. I was going to offer to go but I don't know what to say.

His parents pace, waiting for him or the police to call. He gets one phone call doesn't he? Why wouldn't he call us? Because he doesn't care anymore. Hopefully they took anything he could hurt himself with away from him.

Then an idea strikes me. It's stupid. But it's an idea, and it'll make me feel like I'm doing something.  I have Phoenix's phone. The police had it with his things for his parents to claim and unlock. I swiped it. I figured Axel would want it. Of course it wasn't hooked to a carrier, but I could see old messages. Nothing suggesting who shot him, not that that's a mystery to any of us. The Walls must've had something to do with it.

A good hour later, I have successfully put Phoenix's phone on my plan.  The moment it comes up, there's a missed call from a local number.  I look it up. Winfell PD. That idiot. That complete idiot.

"Look---I activated Phoenix's phone," I say, coming into the kitchen. Axel's dad and step mom are just sitting there looking at coffee and not each other.

"Why, honey?" his step mom asks, nicely.

"Because, Axel called it, look," I show them the notifications.

"Why would he do that?" his father asks, frowning, "Doesn't---does he not believe he's dead? Is that why he took his body?"

"Maybe—or he was trying to get his voicemail," I say.

"Why would he do that?"

"To hear his voice—haven't you ever done that? Called someone knowing you'd just get their voicemail message?" I ask, frowning. They shake their heads a little as they remember my parents are dead.

"That idiot—he needs to talk to us," his father groans.

"He's not thinking right," I say, taking the phone back, "That's pretty obvious."

"Well, what can we do?" his step-mother asks.

"Those stupid cops will have to release him---he isn't charged with anything right now," his father says, "My lawyers are ready—there's plenty of mitigating circumstances."

"Thank you for trying, Brianna. Keep the phone for when Axel gets out. He might want it," his step mother says, kindly.

I take that as my cue to go. I go into my room and try to sleep, holding the phone in case he calls again. Or anyone. Someone might be calling him. And I'll have to tell them he's dead. Phoenix, you idiot, how dare you die. How fucking dare you.

When the phone rings it shocks me out of sleep. Of course it's the same number.

"Axe?" I ask, answering quickly.

"How could you??? They let me redo my one call so I can listen to his message AND YOU PICK UP THE PHONE?????" so Axel is not more okay than he previously was and I watched him carry his boyfriend's body across town at two am just so he could personally clean him up and dress him and tuck him in bed. Which I realize now was a very high level of not at all fucking okay.

"Chill, chill, okay? I wanted to talk you I'm alive," I growl. He had better not hang up.

"I don't care," he starts sobbing.

"I noticed. What is your plan here? No, you can't keep his corpse as a comfort item that's out. His parents are having him cremated once the Medical Examiner is done and we need you not in prison—,"

"You. You need to understand something. I like hurting things. And I liked exactly one person. That person is gone," his voice is dangerous and terribly cold.

"You're gonna kill who did it," I realize. Even if it means he dies. He'll probably kill himself afterwards.

"That I am," very coldly.

"Okay," and then I say some of the stupidest words ever to come out of my mouth. In the past, the stupidest things I've ever said are 'no one will know if we have sex here' and 'no I don't care if we use a condom' and 'i think sweet potatoes are fruit' and just plain and simple 'fight me, bitch', but now, no, this one takes the cake, "I'll help you. Let me help you."

"Really?"

"I said what I said. Do you have a plan? Never mind you can't talk. I'm gonna come down. We'll get a plan and we'll spring you."

"You mean it?"

"I mean everything," I say, tears leaking down my face, "I know you only liked one person. And that's fine. But we liked him too. And we're fond of you too."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean I don't care about you. Except I don't. Don't take it personally. I don't care about myself either."

"I know you don't," I say, wincing back tears. They won't do us any good.

"Okay, like that's my three minutes. If I call again I'm gonna need you to let it go to voicemail, okay?"

"Okay do it now, bye, we'll come get you," I say, then I hang up. A moment later it rings again. And again. And I watch it go to voicemail. Tears run down my face.

He left a message. I move to click on it then don't. It's not for me. And it would only hurt me more. I stand up. Time to get going. I just promised to break my only friend out prison.