The Lunacy of Tyler Lockhart ✔️

Chapter Forty - Present

Present

Tyler

Shhnng! Psssh!

Shhnng! Psssh!

The sound of the shovel and mud filled the silence as I continued to dig up the dirt from the ground. This was his entire fault!

I'd given Vicky two days.

Exactly forty-eight hours to cut whatever bullshit she had planned with Noah, but instead, I'd seen her parading around in town making "wedding" arrangements, trying on various wedding gowns. I bet Noah couldn't even afford a custom made gown for their fake wedding.

Now I'd started to wonder if Vicky knew I was tailing her every move and if she was doing all this on purpose just to rile me up.

I bet she was.

She liked to believe that she was a good-two-shoe, but she was a hypocrite. She liked to pretend that she hated any attention from me when in reality, she craved for every second of it and that was probably why she was pulling these little stints.

When I'd last visited her, I'd seen the look of pure hunger in her eyes. I could bet the billions of dollars on my name that she was soaked by the time I walked out of her house and I wouldn't be surprised if she'd locked her door afterward and had taken care of herself screaming my name. Even as a teen, Vicky always wanted attention from me. She'd act hot one second, and then cold the next. If I was busy touring for an upcoming hockey game, I would video-call her the same night and would see her wearing only a lacy bra and panties to tease the fuck outta me while I was hours away in another state.

She'd been a tease, right from the beginning.

And now, she wanted to play games again, the more dangerous ones.

I'd given her enough time. And if she wanted to play dirty, fine...

Well, she was getting her wish granted.

As I dug up a large pit, my mind started to wander towards the set of rules my mom had forced me to follow throughout the years. If it hadn't been for her, I could have been serving a life sentence, or better yet, sitting on death row for multiple murders.

Then again, maybe not. Seeing as how my entire family could buy silence with money.

I imagined Dad saying, 'son, you committed a murder? That's all right; let's just brush it under the rug cuz we got plenty.'

When I was done with my job, I hid the shovel and took my hiding place.

I'd texted Noah that I wanted to talk to him. Man to man; no pretending, no lies and for the first time, I was ready to throw my weapons, explain him the situation and talk some sense into him but he'd ignored my texts and calls which had led to this.

He'd brought this onto himself.

I watched him park the car, get out of it and started making his way towards the house. Before he could cover the distance, his foot stepped on the fake grass used to cover the pit and he slipped right into the open coffin six feet underground.

"What the fuck?!" I heard his voice echo from down below.

"Help me somebody" he yelled.

The thing about our town was that it wasn't populated. The house nearest to the McCloy's was at least a ten-minute walk by foot, and those folks had been watching Netflix (I'd peeked from the window, just to make sure) so no one was going to come to help Good-Boy-Noah.