The Degenerates - Under Edit

t h i r t y t h r e e

It's been three weeks since James was shot dead in the warehouse.

It's been three weeks since I have spoken to either Theo or Trey.

It's been three weeks.

I check mine, then Trey's phone like clockwork every day. I still had his wallet, opening and closing it as it smelled like the cologne he wore. I still had his car, where I sat in the passenger seat every night.

The Trey Arden I met only a few months ago, with the tattoos and the horrid past, the kind heart and eyes like pools of honey, was gone.

I didn't know where he was, or where he went the morning of the second shooting. But I had left with the last memory of him being laid on the floor next to James, no longer breathing.

I could only assume he was dead.

I even dreamed about him; I dreamed that he came back and I apologised for everything. I said I was sorry and I begged for forgiveness. His face was golden and his eyes smiled, his lips were pink and he promised that there would be no more secrets. He kissed me goodnight and it was like everything made sense; like clicking a seatbelt in, or connecting two pieces of a puzzle. But that feeling only lasted for a second, for I woke up and the candle blew out and there was no light.

I continued with my schoolwork following exams. I didn't try to pretend like I was alright when I was around both Sasha and Lila. I didn't care.

Sometimes, when it really rained and the sky was black and sad, I remembered moments that I had spent with Trey over the past couple of months. The good outweighed the bad; like when I volunteered to cook dinner instead of order in and burned the vegetables and Trey mocked how bad of a cook I was and said he already preordered take out. I laughed at him and threw the tea towel, but he caught it easily, tossing it back on the bench.

Or when he tried a new brand of coffee which caused him to be extremely hyperactive and couldn't suppress the urge to crack terrible jokes and laugh like a hyena even though it was seven in the morning and we had class shortly after.

He hid the coffee in the back of the cupboard in case he was desperate and needed energy.

I remembered the time he shared his cigarette with me and kissed me on the balcony. I remembered the long embrace he pulled me into afterward; just standing there for what felt like forever.

I looked again at the keys in my hand. I was tracing each one with my finger, feeling the edges press into my skin.

I realised that one of these was his house key; and I found my legs taking me to his car.

I sat in the driver's seat, feeling the upholstery, then running my hands over the wheel, imagining when I watched Trey's slender hands steer the car smoothly around the winding roads of Alsbury.

The first time he took me to the warehouse, after we were arguing, but then the car ride was peaceful. When I saw how intimidating and forceful he could be when questioning James.

James never offered up much of a fight when Trey and I questioned him. He didn't say much; but he didn't fight either. I will never know whether he knew more or not, because twenty one days ago, James was shot dead.

I knew he was involved in the arson attacks along with, allegedly, Brad, and obviously, Theo. He never said no when Trey asked, but he never offered more information. He knew about his brother's drug addiction, but why he would join in setting fire to the corridor was beyond me. Was he going for the archives? Or was he destroying evidence of his brother's drug use? It was incredible, the lengths people go to protect the one's they loved.