Where Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton Page B

throw up.
    Gentle hands hold my hair back while I cough and gag. Forgiveness is careful, so careful, not to actually have contact with any other part of me. Shuddering, I make my way to the swings and settle on one. The chains whine.
    â€œWhy don’t you just touch me?” I sigh, resting my forehead against the cold links. I close my eyes again. Everything would be so much easier if the choice was just taken from me.
    â€œYou know why.” Forgiveness surprises me by sitting in the other swing. It’s an odd sight, such an unearthly being doing something as mundane as swinging.
    At this, I meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the part of me that likes to dangle off bridges and hold guns, but I hear myself saying, “I think you want to.”
    â€œI think you’re drunk.”
    Nothing seems to rattle him. I push my feet against the ground to make the swing sway. The cries of the rust-covered chains are the only sound between us. “If you’re not going to help me, then leave,” I growl when the silence becomes too loud.
    Forgiveness angles his body toward me, and now his expression isn’t so detached; his dark eyes burn and brand my soul. I wait, thinking I’ve finally gotten to him, but after a moment he only tilts his head back and focuses on the struggling moon.
    It’s strange to think that all this time, Revenge was my only companion while someone else waited on the sidelines for a weakness to show. Now that Nate Foster has been released, and I finally have a chance to right the wrong that was done to my family six years ago, that weakness has revealed itself. Forgiveness is water through a crack in a dam, the sensation of fear on a stage when all the lights are shining down, a beam succumbing to all the earth’s weight in the mines. I open my mouth to once again tell him to get out of my life—
    â€œAlex.” There’s something different about his tone, a razorlike edge when before it was soft as a cloud. Tensing, I follow his gaze to the road. A car is parked by the curb, lights and engine off. There are abandoned cars all over Franklin; that’s not what’s unusual. What’s unusual is the fact that there’s someone sitting behind the wheel, a dark silhouette turned toward us.
    Whoever it is, they must see that I know I’m no longer alone. Without warning, the engine roars, the lights flare, and the tires squeal. I stand and watched the taillights disappear—the two glowing red squares look like angry, accusing eyes. It reminds me of what happened on the road with the Taurus. I shiver, rubbing my arms. Within seconds, the car is gone.
    There’s an irritating, flicking sensation at the back of my mind. That silhouette seemed so familiar …
    â€œDo you know who that was?” Forgiveness asks.
    I keep staring at the empty road. Unease stirs in the pit of my stomach. How much did they see? To anyone else, my conversation with Forgiveness would have looked like I was talking to air. This town is full of crazy people; I’m not worried about being locked away. But once again I think of the Taurus from days ago, the shattering mirror. These aren’t coincidences. Someone is watching me.
    Someone knows.

Nine
    â€œOh, say can you see! By the dawn’s early light!”
    â€œJust get in the car, Georgie,” Briana sighs. Together, she and Mark lower our friend into the backseat. Georgie nearly stumbles into him during the process. I would offer to help except I’m not entirely sober myself just yet, so I get into the passenger side and shut the door.
    â€œWhat so proudly we hailed at … something, something!” Georgie hiccups and leans against the window. Rolling her eyes, Briana digs into Georgie’s pockets for the keys, her arms jutting at awkward angles to reach them.
    â€œIf you wanted to get in my pants, all you needed to do was ask,” Georgie slurs. Ignoring this,