Grayson Snaps

Chapter 12: The Freezer

Chapter 12: The Freezer

Tristan Sinclair is dead, sprawled out on the kitchen floor. I think my brain is still trying to process it. For a second, I look at Grayson's face. If I didn't know him so well, I'd say that there was no emotion present. But there is. A moment of shock registers in his eyes and then a smile curls on his lips.

I am left just standing there, looking down at Tristan's lifeless eyes, at his still form. The blood keeps on pooling.

And all I can think is that Tristan Sinclair has cracked his head open on the edge of the kitchen island.

And Grayson has the most fucking satisfied look on his face. Like he's won something. I feel sick.

I open my mouth and then snap it back shut again, no words forming. I want to say something, anything, but I can't. I just can't. I don't know what to say, I don't know what to feel besides that raw, harsh realization that although it wasn't either our faults, Tristian is dead. He's fucking dead.

Is this what shock is?

I stand there frozen, my heart thudding in my chest so loud that I think the world can hear.

Then, I'm hearing it.

Oh God. Nonononono.

I hear the worst sound I think I've heard in a long time. My heart does a dive into my stomach; the garage door; it's that rusty squeaky sound of it going up.

That can only mean one thing...

Mom and Dad are home.

My voice breaks from my throat as though it was never absent. I can feel myself yelling, the anger suddenly flooding through me, tangled up with the panic of knowing what just happened.

"Get up! Get up!" I scream at Gray as he stares silently. What he's watching I do not know because Tristan sure as hell isn't moving. Maybe the blood? Yes. That's got to be it. Tristan's blood bleeds into the milk covering the ground, making an almost pink hue.

"Get up!" I yell. I move towards him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. In that moment I feel like shaking him. FUCK. I picture myself shaking him until he goes into shock (like I am! Like me!); I feel like punching Grayson's smug, emotionally disconnected face so hard that it breaks his nose.

It's not his fault, it's not his fault! It'snothisaultit'snothisfaultit'snothisfault! It was an accident, right? Yes. Yes, it is!

"Now, Gray!"

-

"Honey, what on earth are you doing out there?"

This is from my mom. That's her voice drifting through the house. I feel like I just might piss myself out of fear. My limbs are shaking as I stare down at Grayson; he gives me a little smile, the speckles of blood clinging against the side of his cheek.

"Come on! Don't eat it until we get inside!" Her voice calls from the dining room and I can hear the click, click, click of her shoes on the hard floor. There's the slight rustling of a bag; Dad must be out in the car still, probably eating. That's no real shock to me. I stiffen as I hear her voice coming closer and closer. She's at the threshold of the kitchen now, her eyes widening like two moons.

She gasps, nearly dropping the paper grocery bag she has in her arms.

"Jesus Christ on a bicycle!" She exasperates.

I aim the Polaroid camera and press down. It makes a distinct click! as the flash goes off. Grayson doesn't even move, doesn't even blink.

"Boys, I told you...no more deaths in the house!" She exclaims, her voice rising like a shrill, angered animal.