Bad Boy Playground (h.s)

thirtyone

praying

"He's d-dead."

"We need to get rid of the body."

"W-we need to call the p-police."

"We need to get him into the trunk of my car."

"Close your eyes baby, I got you."

"The trailer park."

"Ryan Shaffer, my best client. His name is Ryan, he's not just a dead body he was a person."

Laughed until our ribs felt tough.

It didn't even feel real once we pulled up to the state park. The lot was empty not a light on or a gate closed. Harry knew the way through the trees.

I couldn't imagine what my trunk smelt like from his freshly dead corpse laying back there.

I was the first to open my door and stomp around for soft soil. I can still hear the animals that growled and chirped in those woods. The darkness of night around us like a blanket.

I use to be so scared of the dark.

I looked back at Harry I saw him still sitting in my passengers seat, talking to himself words I couldn't hear.

I dug and dug until dirt covered my clothes and skin, my palms blistered and my hair had fallen out of its perfect perky ponytail. I dug until there was a six foot hole in the earth below me.

"Bless me father for I have sinned."

"Ms. Delaney," Father John is the first to break the fragile silence. "Meet me in my office during free period."

His mousy hair is styled in a comb-over, and his glasses hang low on the bridge of his nose, showing off his angler face.

"You wanted to see me Father John?"

"It seems you're missing a few assignments."

"I can't have a C. I need to keep my perfect GPA to get into Harvard."

"I know a way for you to earn extra credit."

Pure fear sparks as I hear the shuffle of feet and his presence nears. My back fully pressed against the door as my hand feels for the doorknob.

Tears cloud my vision as his fingers trail up my arms, causing goosebumps of terror to form.

"Please." Whimpering, my voice trembles as Father John cups my chest.

"It'll be our little secret." He whispers in my ear.

My breath hitches as my eyes snap to life.

Staring into the dark room, my mind begins to deceiver reality from memory. The heartbeat underneath my ear laminates the safety of his bed, the safety I feel in his arms. I'm okay. It was just a dream.

Not wanting to wake Harry, I timidly lift the ratty torn up blanket he uses as a duvet and slip away from his warmth.

The moon shines through the hallway as I tiptoe towards the kitchen in desperate need of some water. It's silent in the house besides Lila's snoring that I've grown accustomed to over the past couple nights.

I told Shelly I've been over at Monte's house, swearing I wasn't there for Braeden. She believed me just a little bit too quickly.

Opening Harry's top cupboard I see the forgotten pill bottles that I once snooped through. All it does is remind me of Ryan's death. Why does Harry have these? So openly in his cabinet, knowing his mother self medicates and is likely to do so with anything she can get her hands on.