Scream

Reyna Copulas

I thought about saying goodbye to my dad, but he's probably still sleeping...or in a drug coma, I don't know. I find myself slowly not caring about it either. It's like he doesn't care that I exist or that Mother ever did. It's like he was never happy. He must not have loved Mom the way I love Enzo.

Enzo drives us to his spot with the radio on low. I lean my head against the window and try to identify how I feel. Lonely? No, Enzo is with me. Maren's always been there for me. And Makai is my brother. Empty? Not quite. I still have a purpose here, and that's to bring down the killer with my friends and to make them pay for what they've done. Guilty? A bit. This all seems connected to me somehow, but why the giant emphasis on Freddie? Was he somehow involved, or does the killer want to expose my tarnished character? Tarnished. Is that it? I haven't changed completely, but I do feel like I'veeroded. A month ago, I wouldn't be woken up with the nightmare of killing my friends, only to soothe the panic with coffee alcohol. I also wouldn't have killed a man or fell in love with a psychopath. Not to mention, my mom would still be alive and my dad would actually be a dad.

 But then again, I wouldn't have known Makai was my brother. I wouldn't have met Enzo. More importantly, I wouldn't have been able to grow and discover who I am. I'm not "Reyna who floats by people and shrugs at the world." Turns out, I'm "Reyna who can kick some ass and has a strong voice."

 If it wasn't for the killer, would I have been able to say the bold things I did to Mr and Mrs King? Would I have been able to look for a masked man in the church? Would I have even survived the church? Would I have found the courage to look for the clues about the killer when the hospital was on lockdown? 

Maybe I would have stayed silent forever. Maybe I would have always let myself be pushed around and shy and scared. 

But then again, maybe not. It's too late to know now. I'm already neck-deep down this path and at this point, there's no turning back. Too many friends and families have died because of the actions of a single person. That means all it takes is for a single person to bring them down. With my newfound confidence, who says it can't be me? Who says it won't be me? 

"Can I ask you something?" I question Enzo, who leans his head on his hand, which rests against the door.

"Fire away," he approves.

"I don't see you smoke, but when you came through my window you smelled like cigarettes."

Enzo waits for a beat before responding. "That wasn't a question."

"It insinuates one," I remind him.

"I don't consider myself to be a controlling person," he begins, eyes focused on the road. "But when everything spirals out of complete control – chaos – I find a grip on the world when I smoke. I used to be addicted, but I quit pretty easily. When I smoke I remind myself that there's one thing I have control of, and that's myself. I can smoke all I want, but I won't become addicted.

 I nod. "You sound like a poet."

"Hah!" he laughs, smiles bright and excited. "Honey, I failed literature...along with most of my classes."

"How'd you finish high school?"

"I dropped out and got my GED online," he explains with a shrug. "I'm not very book smart, but I'm an everything-else genius."

"I'm book smart and an everything-else failure," I admit, now totally comfortable with Enzo. I can tell him anything. I can tell him things I wouldn't even tell Maren or Makai. 

"Not exactly," Enzo protests. "You're a disaster sage."

"A what?" I inquire, stifling a laugh.