Grayson Snaps

Chapter 16: Reckoning

Chapter 16: Reckoning

A/N: And this chapter is one of the many reasons I had to rate Grayson Snaps as Mature. You have been warned. But, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

-

"You betrayed me." Grayson says slowly, his whole face darkening. His jaw is clenched tightly, the muscle popping out slightly.

"I didn't betray you." I say, trying to keep my voice leveled and calm.

"You...locked...me...up." He says lowly and tentatively as though I'm a kid and need each word articulated; even more slowly, Grayson takes a few steps towards me until he's right up in my face; we're breathing the same air; he's pressed me up against the door. Grayson's shaking slightly with pent up rage, but despite his fury, I can see that small look of hurt on his face, behind his angry façade. It's in the crease between his eyes, it's in the way he has his clenched fists pressed up against the sides of his thighs. Grayson can pretend with other people, but he can't pretend with me. A flash of guilt shoots through me (But I was just trying to help him. Couldn't he see that?! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!) but that guilt quickly turns to anger as I look at Mr. Wayne's limp body again.

I told him. I fuckin' told him what he'd do. And he fucking did it anyway.

I snap my eyes towards his again, feeling the wood at my back, Grayson breathing heavily in front of me.

"We need to get this fixed," I say, not stopping the sneer that breaks out on my face.

"Why?" Grayson whispers, raising his chin and stepping away from me. His voice is rising; he makes a gesture with his hand towards the body, and then slaps his hand down on his thigh again.

"So, I can go to jail for the rest of my life?!"

His words worm their way into me, settling in and festering. He's...right. In my shock, I hadn't thought of the full implications of what Grayson has just done. What if...what if someone walks in?

I mean, Grayson fucking killed him. This wouldn't be like a staycation at some juvenile hall. This is a 'jail-for-life-never-going-to-see-you-again' type of situation.

I let out a breath, eyeing Grayson and then to the body, my thoughts swirling, trying to grab onto a solution. I need something tangible, something plausible.

"We wait until everyone leaves," I finally say. "And then we clean this up...somehow."

Grayson nods slowly, letting out a shaky breath, running the back of his hand against his bloody mouth, smearing the blood even more.

"I think you've fucked up enough." I add.

-

"Oh my God!"

"What's wrong, honey?"

Lisa Dolan is currently in her backyard, shoving dirt into a planter with her gloved hands; it is the afternoon and the wind is chilly. It blows against the dead trees and limp bushes. Despite being busy, she and Mr. Dolan have the afternoon off; they made a deal with each other that today they'd have lunch and then return home.

They deserved it, after all. With what all the overtime they have put in, especially Mr. Dolan.

Although her husband just wanted to sleep, she had forced him into the backyard, wanting to plant something. In truth, Lisa loves planting. She loves everything about it: the dirt between her fingers, the little seed in the palm of her hand, the sheer, calming idea of continues growth. And today is just the prefect day to grow something.