Racing Down Sunset Boulevard

Chapter 16

Ari's POV

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nate insisted for the sixth time since I had woken up this morning, a little over six hours ago. Braking at the now red light, he turned his gaze on me, scrutinizing as ever. "You worry too much." I murmured simply, although I felt a surge of gratitude towards this boy I had barely known for two weeks and who was still, in many ways, practically a stranger. A stranger I had slept with.

I resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze, or even meet it. Instead, I found myself opening the car window, squinting in the noon sun and taking in the city smell. Salt, exhaust fumes, and a slight note of despair. I felt quite content in that one moment, slightly bobbing my head along to the song idly playing on the radio and ignoring the sheen of sweat forming on my forehead from the incessant heat. I barely even felt the creeping anxiety always present in the back of my mind, constantly keeping me worried about one thing or another. Right now, it should've been the fact that Kaylah wouldn't hang up until I promised to meet her no later than one o'clock. But I couldn't bring myself to care yet, and frankly, I didn't mind that one bit.

But my bubble was quickly popped by another car pulling in the other empty lane, driver's window rolled down as he puffed out lazily from a cigarette. In normal circumstances, I most likely wouldn't have minded a man checking me out at a red light. After all, I surely didn't mind Nate doing it. But the lingering gaze on my neck almost made me flinch, feeling shame burn through me, pinning me to the spot. I felt my pulse quicken, my palms start sweating as his gaze failed to shift after 5 seconds,10 seconds, 15 seconds, his expression slowly morphing from confusion to something resembling a strange sort of pity, normally reserved when starting at something helpless, fragile. Broken.

I jumped back as my window suddenly started closing back up, forming a barrier between me and the all too inquisitive man in the other lane. I turned towards Nate, only to find him giving the other man a pointed glare before the window snapped shut and her turned his eyes on me, softening to something affectionate and warm. This time I couldn't help quickly snapping my head down, allowing my hair to cover the purplish bruises that had settled into my skin. I watched my fingers as I picked at my cuticles, a nervous habit I had at some point picked up from my best friend and normally detested.

But this time I found myself grateful for having something else to focus on other than the bruises marring my throat, the pain, and above else, the way Nate's eyes had dropped to them immediately as I entered the kitchen that morning, expression turning rigid, if only for a second. It had only taken a glance in the bathroom mirror, a second as I was washing my hands to understand his reaction, and replicate it.

Whatever imagined confidence I had last night was decidedly gone by morning, replaced by shame and most importantly, disgust. I wasn't even certain if I was more disgusted at myself for allowing myself to be fooled by a lie for so long, or at Gage for his arrogance and complete disregard of my own free will and ultimately, my own life.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of" Nate stated in a matter of fact tone, one hand braced on the steering wheel, while the other one causally carded through his black locks, eyes stubbornly staring forwards, as if to give me some sense of privacy in the small stuffy car. As the light turned green, and the engine roared back to life, I surprised myself by smiling slightly, fond of his way of guessing exactly what I needed to hear at all times and saying just that. As if he'd known me for a lifetime.

Despite not being able to indulge in his kind words yet, I felt a spark of the flame that had overtaken me last night burn back to life, and I clasped my hand on top of his on the speed shifter, hoping my gratitude would be conveyed by my actions when my words seemed to fail. By the way he carefully removed his hand and placed it on top of mine instead, squeezing lightly, I knew my attempt hadn't been in vain.

So I simply found myself turning the volume of the radio a notch higher, and settling further into my seat, words irrelevant for now, and closed my eyes.

Gage's POV

I hadn't felt quite this alone in a long while. By this hour, I would've normally been at football practice, warming up for the day. I often found myself complain over the horridly strict training warm up the coach insisted we go through regardless of the weather (10 field laps, no less than 50 push ups, then repeat ) which I now missed more than I could've ever imaged. I must truly be a masochistic son of a bitch.

But there would be none of that, and for a long time. I was taken off the team indefinitely, in the coach's own words. Of course, Jones took no little pleasure in that, a sly smile followed by a sneer as I met his stare when I had gone back to training as per usual. I am almost ashamed to admit how surprised I was to go to training as per usual, only to be met by disapproving and even some outright disgusted stares from my now former teammates. For once I didn't resent him for spreading the word at my expense, especially after Jones physically had to pry me off Ariana, which might have ultimately saved her life.

In fact, I was just as surprised as him when I found myself thanking him as I packed my things while they changed into uniforms. "Save your words for those who actually need to hear them" he muttered, tone begrudging.

And if I wasn't indeed due to train for some upcoming match, I was most likely either texting Ari about something I had found funny or lamenting over the phone to Nate, which almost always escalated to him coming over for a drink and, you guessed it, more lamenting over my life from my side. I never realised how pathetic and self-entitled I probably sounded, and now it didn't even matter anymore. Too little too late. That seems to be applying to my life much more often than I'm comfortable with.

However, the past three hours had given me time to think and reflect on my life, reliving the events leading to this turning point in my life, as easily as you might take a logbook out of your desk to check the performance of your corporation overtime. The one crucial difference was that, while an incorporated business's owners couldn't be sued for the missteps of their enterprise, I could do serious jailtime if Ariana found it in herself to press charges. Judging by the fact that I could hear no police sirens in the neighbourhood and that my door wasn't broken open and off its hinges, yet I was safe. For now.

Yet I despite how bittersweet reliving the past might prove, the future held much more relevance as of right now. More exactly, the future plan of my revenge. I had never been more grateful to my laziness in walking the couple extra steps off my course to my car in order to take out the trash as I was earlier today. As I was incessantly pacing my living room floor, getting annoyed the more I tripped over the clothing and empty cans strewn all over the space, I had one of my rare eureka moments. Or like Ari fondly called them, my "Moses splitting the red sea" moments.

So this is how after searching through the trash like a lunatic for the better part of an hour, I sat myself at on the couch, laptop balanced on my lap, and small pill held between my left index and thumb. Round, slightly biconvex and in the distinct colour of ochre, it wasn't that challenging to find, and after a few google searches, I was rewarded with a name. Depixol.

The google page I had accessed seemed innocent enough, framed by soothing green margins and a green and white typical pharmacy cross in the top left corner. But its contents where decidedly far from innocent. My slight triumphant feeling vanished almost as soon as it came to manifest, giving way to a growing pit of dread and fear, going down my legs and spine, turning them to led as I read further down the page, my thoughts picking up speed and spiralling out of control. I felt the absurd urge to look around, turning my head from side to side in a daze as if expecting Nathan to emerge from the shadows and give me another cold smile.

I distantly thought about how he still possessed the keys to my apartment, with which I had entrusted him the first time I had left for a match outside town and how easy it would be for him to simply sneak in the middle of the night and simply smother me to death in my own bed.

However, it wasn't my own safety I was contemplating with increasing urgency as I printed the screenshot of the website and placed it in my bedside drawer, along with the pill now safely tucked into an unused mint tin. All I could imagine was Ariana, glowing in a white dress, a knife embedded deep into her midriff, leaching away at her life, lips turning white as the very paper I had printed.

What kind of monster even are you, Nathan? With that I collapsed onto the bed, picked up the pillow Nathan could very well use to smother me to death, placed it over my mouth, and screamed. What have I done?

**I haven't written in so long this feels liberating.