Lost Thoughts

This Night

"Finally," Kingsley groans. "You're up." She hovers over me, raking her hand through her long blonde hair.

My head is ringing. My body is sore. The ridged gravel that lays beneath me tells me that I'm laying in the middle of the street.

Kingsley brushes my hair out of my eyes. Her hand glides along my cheek, framing my face. There is a cut on her lip and another one just above her eyebrow.

"Are you okay, Beatriz?" She asks, looking me up and down.

I don't answer her. I look away from Kinglsey, my gaze lands on a horrific image painted before me. Peter's car-- or the mangled remains of it--hit a tree head on. The majority of the impact struck on the passenger side, where Peter was sitting.

Kingsley bounces up to her feet. "Help me move his body."

"What?" I drag my eyes away from the scene. I frown, doubting I heard her right.

"Peter's body. We have to move it to the driver's side-" She quickly explains over her shoulder, as she begins to make way to the wreckage.

"What?" I ask again. "Why? Is he dead?" I scramble up to my feet and stagger around the side of the car after her. A sharp pain strikes through my left ankle.

I want to fall back to the ground and scream out. Instead I limp after her.

"Yeah." She yanks the car door open. "Send your condolences, or whatever, but do it quickly. The police will be here any minute."

"Kingsley, what the hell are you doing?" I squeak, supporting myself against the car to ease the pain.

She sighs, clearly annoyed. "I'm saving our asses, now would you be a good friend and help me out?"

I watch as she wraps her arms around Peter's waist. He falls down to the ground in a lifeless heap. His pupils create half crescents as they begin roll behind his head. There are scratches and bruises all over his bloodied body.

My stomach rolls over. I feel like I'm going to vomit, and yet Kingsley doesn't seemed to be bothered by it. She pulls at Peter. I listen as his legs drag across the ground.

"Are you going to help me or what?" Kingsley pouts, she struggles to hold his broad body in her thin arms.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I scoff. "I'm done listening to you, Kingsley. I'm calling the cops." I shove my hand into my back pocket and reveal my phone.

"You wouldn't." She hisses, yet her eyes dare me to do so. Like this is all some game to her.

I turn it on. The screen is cracked, but I still manage to find the dial pad.

"Make sure you tell them that you're drunk as hell and underage." Kingsley drops Peter and props her hands up on the rounds of her hips. "And while you're at it,  you tell them that you were driving too."

I narrow my eyes at her. "But I wasn't. You were, and you know it." My hand drops back to my side.

"But the cops don't, and if I really wanted I could convince them that you were." Her smile is forced, it's malicious.

"Kingsley." I whisper weakly. Pleading.

"Bea, honey." She presses her hand to her chest, as if she's sympathizing with the situation she's forced me into. A few seconds later, and the look expires. Her face shows that it's back to business.  "Do you want the head or the feet?" She nudges Peter's body with the tip of her shoe.

I look at Kingsley with her swaying golden hair, and her soft light brown eyes. Everything about her is inviting, and yet I want to run in the opposite direction. I don't regret any other decision more than when I first accepted Kingsley offer to remake me. She didn't reinvent me. No, she turned me into this horrible person. 

The hatred I have for her--for myself-- burns up from the pit of my stomach, pushing it's way up my throat. I want to scream at her. I want to cry for Peter. I want to spit in her face, and slap her across the cheek.

Instead I suck in a huge breath, feeling my lungs expand inside of me. Then, I release it. "Whatever, I'll take the head."

I snake my hands under Peter's arms and haul him up. I squeeze my eyes close to distract myself from what I'm doing, as well as the pain the rings up my leg.

We get him around the car and into the driver's seat. Kingsley positions him to look as natural as possible.

"The story is pretty obvious." Kingsley slams the car door shut and turns to me. "Peter was drunk, insisted on driving, and--." She shrugs, casually gesturing towards his dead body. "Got it?"

Peter won't graduate college because of this night. His parent's lives will never be the same because of this night. People will cry and morn for months to come because of this night.

I think of Landon, his best friend, my boyfriend.

I imagine him standing over his best friend's grave, weeping silently, because of this night.

Because of me.

"Got it?" Kingsley asks me again.

"Got it." I agree reluctantly.

"Don't say it like that, babe." She grabs my shoulders. "This'll just bring us closer." Kingsley circles around to stand behind me. She folds her arm around to reach her hand to my chin. She tilts both of our faces up to the sky. The moon is full and bright as it shines down on us. 

I have no clue what we are staring at.

"It'll all be just like a movie. Two best friends, sworn to a deadly secret that could ruin both us." Her light hazel eyes glimmer with desire. "We'll be friends all the way to the grave."

My jaw clenches as I listen to her terribly morbid fantasy. We both know that this would damage me way more than it could ever hurt her. Kingsley has money- lawyers. All I have is what she gave me: a better wardrobe, and an even better attitude And even that she could just as easily take it away.

"Just like a movie." I say, finding this all so sickeningly ironic.