Secrets | Watty Awards Winner 2013

Chapter 6

“Maybe we should go back inside,” Will suggests. I look at him carefully but don’t respond. He stares back at me. His stare is so intense that I wonder whether he’s trying to burn a hole through my skull. That's the alcohol talking.

“Yeah. Alright,” I say. “I really need another dr-“ I stop and my eyes widen.

“No way. I’m not letting you near another drop of alcohol tonight.” Will rakes a hand through his hair, looking at me distractedly. I freeze, barely even registering his words.

“The crystal glass,” I whisper. “She was carrying the crystal glass.”

“What?” Will snaps back to attention.

“Selena- the person who helped murder Micah- was carrying the crystal glass,” I repeat, unsure whether I’m repeating it more for Will’s benefit or mine.

“So what?” Will gives me a wary look. I frown and my brow creases; then, the last piece of the puzzle clicks into my head and it all makes sense. A gasp leaves my lips and I turn to run back into the building. I need to get to my father- and quick.

“Stop!” Will’s fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me backwards so abruptly that I almost lose my footing. I pry his hands off me.

“The crystal glass,” I say, my breaths coming in rapid gasps. “I’m not the target. My father is.”

Will looks at me in confusion and I hiss in annoyance. I don’t have time for this. My father could be drinking from the chalice right now. I turn to go but Will grabs my arm.

“I’m not letting you back in there until you explain to me what the hell is going on,” he says. His voice is calm and cold yet laced with such authority that for a second, I’m paralysed with surprise.

“At the end of the night, my father makes a toast to thank everyone for donating to the foundation. It’s a tradition that he drinks from the crystal chalice. Selena- she was carrying the chalice.” My voice shakes a little but manages to sound firm.

It takes awhile for the news to sink in but when it does, Will lets out a string of curses that makes a ghost of a smile curl up the corners of my mouth.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Will says seriously, “When we go inside, we’re going to look for your father and we’re not going to freak anyone out. Panic on a large scale will only make it easier for her to get away.”

“The only person who’s panicking at the moment is you,” I say with a wry grin.

“That's a good joke. You should be a comedian,” Will retorts drily and grabs my arm. We slip inside and the warmth of the room almost suffocates me. A girl in a soft peach dress sashays up to Will with a coy smile but he brushes her away, looking irritated. Her cheeks colour in annoyance and she huffs before stalking away. I glance over at Will and wonder how many girls he has had to reject tonight.

I see my father standing on the podium with the crystal chalice in his hand. He throws his head back and laughs at something someone says. The glass catches the light and glints from across the room.

“Will,” I say, tugging at his sleeve urgently. He turns to me and I point at my father. His eyes widen and he starts forward towards my father. I follow him but stop after two paces.

“Come on,” Will says but I barely hear him. My heartbeat slows and thuds against my ribs.  

Selena.

I see her ducking behind a man wearing a tuxedo. She glances back for a second and our eyes meet. Images of Micah come floating back to me and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with hot, blinding rage. I run after her, pushing people out of the way, uncaring of where or how they fell; all I see is Selena.

I won’t let her get away again. I can’t.

She flees into the crowd, twisting around people. She casts a fleeting backward glance and her feet catch on a table leg. She falls, her arms waving wildly. Before she can scramble to her feet, I pounce on her and grab her wrists.

“Get off me!” she shrieks as I sit on her abdomen. “You’re a freaking psycho! Someone help me!”

“Your murdered my brother,” I hiss and release one of her wrists to land a punch against her jaw. My knuckles sting with the impact but I barely feel the pain. She looks at up at me, stunned for second before she starts thrashing again. She’s the same size as me and slightly stronger. She manages to kick me in the gut which makes me wince. That will leave a bruise.

Suddenly, I feel grab me by my shoulders and haul me away.

“No! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I scream. I pull away from whoever is holding me and glare at him. He is a paunchy middle-aged man with a bald-spot in the crown of his head. I spit out a few insults before I see Selena being helped to her feet. Her cheeks are splotchy but a smirk crosses her face. I throw myself against her, only too aware of how there is a ring of people now watching me. Their faces are filled with a mixture of shock, disdain and worst of all, sympathy. They’re judging me- judging as if they were somehow better people than me. I used to think that were true. Now I know that it isn't. People are just a bunch of fucking hypocritical assholes.

“Selena Newman, you are under arrest for the murder of Micah Chambers and for the conspiring and aiding in the kidnapping of Ariel Chambers." A lone voice rings out across the room, quelling the quiet murmurs almost immediately. The crowd parts and Detective Monroe strides in. He has two more detectives with him and while his assistants handcuff Selena and rattle off her Miranda Rights, he walks over to me.

“Are you alright?” Detective Monroe’s brow furrows in concern. I open my mouth to reply but Detective Monroe carries on speaking. “Your friend, Will, called me. It was a good thing I was already on my way here. We got an anonymous tip that your friend,” he jerks a thumb at Selena, “was here.”

I nod but something still isn’t right. I look over at Selena. Her lip is bleeding and a thin trail of red winds its way down her chin. When she sees me looking, she spits onto the floor. Scarlet droplets dot the marble floor near her feet and she smiles.

She’s smiling. I feel sick to the pit of my stomach.

Why is she smiling? She’s in handcuffs.  She’s been arrested. She’s probably going to the spend the rest of her life behind bars. How can she still be so smug?

Then, a shout rents through the room and the blood drains from my face. The unsettling feeling that has been building almost swallows me whole.

“Someone call an ambulance! Mr Chambers has collapsed!”