I'm a Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Chapter 10: Aftermath

Chapter 10

Trees, buildings and street signs all pass me by in a blur as I keep my foot on the gas, unable to stop for even a second. I want to check behind me for flashing red and blue lights, but I'm too scared and I'm worried that if I take my eyes off the road for more than a second, that I'll accidentally crash the car into a mound of snow.

I want the thoughts to stop haunting me, for the scene in the bathroom to stop playing in my mind on repeat, reminding me of the person that I am. I don't want to believe that I did the unthinkable, that I killed someone, dumped their body and am currently searching for a place to dump the evidence.

But I am. And I did.

"Stupid!" I growl, staking one hand off the wheel and bashing my palm into my forehead painfully. I so this four more times before grabbing the wheel once more and swerving the car away from a ditch I almost drove directly into.

I drive like a maniac, swerving from my shaking hands and going at least twenty miles over the speed limit. The glass and washcloths are on the seat beside me, taunting me with the memories from only an hour ago. People have to have found her by now. They have to know what I've done.

I turn onto a dirt path that seems to appear out of nowhere, quickly reading the No Trespassing sign, and pressing on the gas harder. I feel like throwing up and curling up in a ball for the rest of my life. I sicken myself so much that I can't even look into the rearview mirror, terrified of the reflection that will stare back at me.

When I get to the end of the road, I slam on the brakes and throw the gear in park, grabbing the evidence mocking me from the passenger seat and slamming my door closed. I run straight to a lake about a half a mile from my car and stop at the end, finally letting my tears fall. I kneel down and cry into my bloody hands, feeling the effects of what I've done become physical agony.

Quickly standing up as I force myself to keep everything together, I throw the glass into the water, along with my jacket and shoes. I toss in the washcloths stained with blood and take off my shirt that has smeared blood on the front, even deciding to go to extreme measures and toss in my jeans.

I'm freezing to say the least, standing near a body of water in the cold in only my bra and panties. My emotions want to dive in the water along with the evidence of tonight, but instead I bottle them up and turn to walk back to my car. For a while I just sit here, staring at the gleaming lake with the heat on full blast with only an extra hoodie in my car to warm me.

I want to cry and scream and call my mother or Lucy. I want to dive in the almost frozen lake and dig up the evidence to turn in to the police. I want to take it all back and ignore Zoey's existence rather than end it.

But I can't. I can't fix it or take it back.

So I don't bother trying.

***

When I snuck back in Saturday morning, I showered to get the disgusting blood off of me, hoping it would make me feel better, but it didn't. I've had no sleep in three days, look like a zombie, and have refused to check any social media sites because I know I'll faint when I see the news article headlines.

I've barely left my bed all weekend, feeling sick with nerves and anxieties everytime I stand to my feet and the memories come back to haunt me. All these thoughts and worries and questions have been turning inside my head like clothes in a dryer and it's turning me into a soulless human.

The pain and emotions eventually became too much so I focused on blocking them all out completely. I tried to train myself not to cry when I think about the blood, not to scream when I think about the murder weapon and not to react when I think about Zoey. It's a struggle to block it all out, but it's working and I've almost convinced myself that Friday night never happened. Maybe I can even get away with not being at that party at all if enough people deny seeing me.

I leave the house Monday morning without eating or saying goodbye to my family, not in the mood to speak or even breathe. Everything I do makes me feel jittery and anxious like I'm about to pass out, especially when I see a cop car on my way to school. If I weren't so worried that the officer would question me, I would have pulled over because I was shaking and crying so hard.

When I arrive at school, I know immediately that everybody heard the news. The news I know without having glanced at a TV screen or social media site. The aurora is reeking of death and everybody looks sullen and sad. I debate if I even want to get out of my car and pretend that I'm not a murderer or drive off to think about what I've done and how I can make up for it. If it's too late to turn myself in.

Eventually I find myself getting out of my car and slowly walking to the entrance of the building, my head directed to the floor. I don't want anyone to see the guilt written on my face with permanent marker, if it's visible. All I wanted was to hurt her like she hurt me and here I am, carrying the secret of her murder like a boulder tied to my ankle.

Lucy runs up to me as I continue to debate inside my head what to do with my secrets and I can tell she's going to tell me what I already know. There's no way that they hadn't found her body in the frozen pool. Maybe they can declare suicide or hypothermia. Maybe I won't get in trouble.

All the hours I spent teaching myself not to feel, all the time I spent putting a lighter beneath my hand whenever I had a thought related to Friday night or even Zoey in general, disappears immediately. My training has failed and here I am, feeling the emotions breaking through the wall I thought I built thick enough to last for years.

"Did you hear?" she whispers, grabbing my arm painfully and making me stop walking towards the school. My heart starts beating like a drum in my chest and I have to pull my arm from her grasp so she won't feel my pulse through my sleeve.

"Yeah, it's all over Facebook," I lie, since I don't actually know if people have been posting about our deceased classmate less than seventy two hours after her death. I keep my eyes glued to the snowy ground and finger my inhaler in my hoodie pocket, needing to know I have it for when I'll need it.

"It's terrible. They're saying it's murder," she exclaims in shock, as if there wasn't a mob of people who wanted the witch burned. Could I tell her the truth? Can I trust Lucy not to tell anyone what I've done?

"Who would do that? And not get caught?" I get out through gritted teeth, playing it off cool like I'm just cold and my teeth are chattering. We move inside the building and to her locker, where she takes out her famous notebook filled with amazing doodles and poems. She must have math first.

"It's a small town. They'll find him."

I want to comment that the killer could be female, but decide to keep my mouth shut incase I let anything else slip. I have to keep this hidden for as long as possible. Derek would never want me if he knew the truth.

"How's Derek?" I ask, suddenly realizing the con to this situation. Now that the witch is out of the way, I can have Derek all to myself. It's what I've wanted all along.

"Hasn't shown up yet. Probably won't. It was his girlfriend, after all."

"I was his girlfriend," I snap at her, getting closer to her than I was originally standing.

She raises her eyebrows, looking at me like I'm unstable, but must pass it off as shock from the news of Zoey's death because she simply closes her locker. "Right. You should be a little more considerate, though. He might have had feelings for her. You never know."

She walks off to her first class and I stare at her back angrily, suddenly feeling like no one understands what I'm going through. My soulmate got side-tracked by a girl with more makeup than morals and now that she's gone, I want him back. What's the big deal?

I storm to the closest bathroom, hurrying to the last stall and slamming it shut. I close my eyes and slide to the ground, screaming as loud as I can into the sleeves of my hoodie. Everyone is in class, so I have no problem letting all my frustrations out. I scream and kick the stall in front of me several times, fed up with everything and everyone. I just want Derek back. And I'm going to get him back.