False Regret: Pikorua - Book 1

by Reid, Angela

  “What did I do wrong? Wasn’t I always good to you?” he asked, fighting back tears. “You told me you loved me. Was that a lie? Did I ever mean anything to you, or was I just a replacement for your asshole parents?”

  He had nailed it perfectly. My dad was nowhere around, and my mom worked all the time. We were not close and mostly at odds. Sam, my brother, and I, were like strangers. I had no one--no one but Will, Ash, and Maria. “I do care about you, but not the same way you care about me. I’m sorry. We probably should’ve broken up a long time ago, but I was selfish and didn’t want to let go. I was afraid to be alone. Honestly, I really believe that once we went away to college, this would’ve ended, anyway. Long distance relationships never work. This break-up is sooner rather than later, but it was always inevitable. I still want to be friends. Is that an option?”

  “How can I be your friend if you are with him? I don’t see that happening. Not wanting to be in a long distance relationship is bullshit. If it worried you, you sure as hell wouldn’t be striking up a new relationship with him. You’re nothing but a cold-hearted bitch, Ellia.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “You should go. There isn’t really anything else to say, I guess.”

  I touched his arm, “I am sorry, Will, I hate hurting you.”

  “Whatever,” he said, walking past me and opening his door for me, making it clear he was done talking. I left his house and jogged home, a mixture of relief and sadness on my heart.

  Cade called me an hour later, and I told him what happened. It took him about thirty seconds to, officially, ask me out, and I accepted. I was a moth to his flame, but, back then, I didn’t realize how painful the burn would be.

  ***

  Dreamless sleep finally rescued me from my memories until hours later I heard a crash outside the bedroom. I instinctively reached for Matt, but he wasn’t there. He had not come to bed yet. Fear seized me as I slid my feet quietly to the carpet. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Calm down, Ellia, he probably dropped a glass. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and my gut told me it was more than a shattered tumbler. My head throbbed, keeping time with my body aches as I inched to the entrance and opened it a crack to listen. No sound erupted, and I thought maybe I was having a hallucination or it had all been the remnant of a dream.

  I opened the door a sliver further and Matt came into view. He was looking at something, or someone, with his hands slightly raised as if to show he wasn’t armed. I heard him say, “You don’t have to do this,” just before a bullet tore through his head, the sound muffled by a silencer. I watched the back of Matt’s skull explode against the living room wall and ooze into a macabre piece of artwork. I screamed, “Oh my God!” involuntarily, and the masked perpetrator turned towards me, my vocal response signaling my location. The man was not Cade, I could tell by his build. If I didn’t react, I would die, too. I slammed and locked the door as he beat at it. He’d break it down if I didn’t hurry and work out a plan. I grabbed the bag I’d brought from home and climbed out the window, thankful the motel was not a two story. I ran barefoot down the alley, past the dumpsters and howling stray cats, not knowing where to go next. My mind went spinning in a million directions, and my body wanted to shut down and disconnect. It was late, and every business nearby was closed and dark. I changed direction and headed into the neighborhood. I pounded madly on the first door I came to, and an old woman opened it a crack, her watery, old eye appearing just beneath a chain lock.

  “Please help me!” I pleaded. “Someone is after me. May I come in and call the police?” I asked, tears falling down my face, thinking of Matt. The sight of his brain matter hitting the linen colored walls was sure to drive me mad.

  “Well, Miss, I don’t think so. I don’t know if you can be trusted. Senior citizens can’t be too careful these days,” the woman said as I saw the masked man heading up the street, straight for me. I pulled the old woman’s door shut, hoping to protect her, and took off running again.

  I was tired and weak, knowing he would easily overtake me in a matter of moments, but I kept going, praying a plan would present itself. When I rounded the corner of the next house, deciding to try hiding, two hands grabbed me, just like before, covering my mouth. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I didn’t even care anymore. Matt was dead, and Cade was dead, or at least the Cade I knew. I didn’t want to go on living, either. The man pulled me down underneath a porch and closed the lattice work that adorned it. I was confused as to why this person was concealing me from the guy with the gun. His hand remained over my face even though I had no plan to scream and reveal my whereabouts. Instead, I rested my head in the wet moldy leaves that had blown under the deck, finding no desire to resist. The gunman ran past and began to search through the back yard, under the bushes, and in the shed. He was thorough and took his time. I lay in the dirt with a stranger on top of me, shivering and wishing the nightmare would end. I worried my erratic heart beat would give us away. Finally, the assassin left, seeming satisfied that I’d somehow escaped him. I kept still, though, waiting to see what the captor holding me down intended to do. He waited an unbearable amount of minutes and then pushed the trellis aside and crawled out, hauling me up and out after him.

  “Are you okay?” whispered Cade. Relief and fear all rolled up into a messy ball flooded through me. I was glad Gordon hadn’t killed him, but I was scared he would take me back to that cabin. An emotional fire storm brewed inside me.

  “Please don’t make me go back there,” I cried in a hushed tone, backing away from him. He took the two steps to fill the gap between us and put his hands on my shoulders. I tried to shrug him off, but he held a firm grip.

  “I won’t, Ellia, not ever. Gordon’s dead. I had no choice, but, obviously, you aren’t safe. Dacks wants you and will do whatever it takes. You are his leverage with your dad.”

  “Matt …” I choked out as quietly as I could, though I wanted to scream until there was no pain left inside me.

  “I know… I am so sorry,” he said, and I believed he meant it. “We need to go. Dack’s men are still out here searching for you. He wouldn’t give up that easily.” Cade put his coat on me and took my hand, but he kept me behind him as we crept to the corner of the house. We made a stealthy move down the street, using trees and fencing as cover. Finally, we came to a motorcycle parked in the bushes near the motel. I came to the conclusion that Cade had been watching the place the whole time. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, considering I didn’t trust his motives. He could be taking me to Dacks himself. Defeat was all that broke the crust of numbness inside me. I didn’t have the strength to run anymore.

  He took the motorcycle helmet and placed it on my head, doing the strap under my chin, like he had done a hundred times before when we were kids, and I had ridden on the back of his bike. He removed my bag off of my shoulder and put it quickly over his own. I was amazed to see I still had it with me. My pajamas were filthy, and dirt crusted on my bare feet, but I got on the bike behind him.

  “Hang on tight,” he said, starting the motor.

  “Just like old times,” I said, before I realized I’d even said it out loud.

  “I wish,” he replied and kicked the stand up as he revved the engine. As soon as the wheels hit pavement, a Mustang flew around the corner. I clutched Cade so tightly, his breathing was probably impaired. The car caught up to us, but Cade took a swift corner and gained some ground. The chase continued for miles, and I lost feeling in my bare feet from the cold. Cade managed to lead the vehicle out of town, where we were able to veer off onto the dirt trails of state land, where he hoped the fancy sports car couldn’t follow. His plan worked, and the mustang bogged down in the sand at the first hill. Cade drove deeper into the woods, and when he felt the space was sufficient, he stopped the bike. We were still in the middle of nowhere, and I began to fear he might be planning to kill me himself. He got off the motorcycle, flipped on the flashlight he pulled from his back pocket, and looked at me. “Do you have an
y shoes or warm clothes in your bag?” he asked, taking it off his shoulder.

  Through my chattering teeth I nodded, deciding he must not be plotting to off me if he wanted to dress me. My spare set of running shoes were in the bag. He quickly opened it and helped me into a pair of socks and then my shoes. I felt like a child, as he slipped my cut and dirty feet into the sneakers. He retrieved a sweater and helped me put it on under his coat.

  “I’ll get you out of the cold as soon as I can. Are you okay for now?” he asked, touching my cheek. “Jesus, you are burning up, Ellia. Are you sick?”

  “I don’t know …” I said, needing to vomit. It was hard to tell what normal felt like anymore.

  “Just keep holding on tight. It’s bumpy as hell, and I don’t want you to fall. I will get you out of here as fast as I can, okay?” he asked, searching my eyes, wanting to make sure I believed him. My head nodded in affirmation, and he got back on the bike. The air was frigid, and I knew he must be cold. Hoping my fever ravaged body, would lend him heat, I pressed against his back.

  It seemed like forever before we hit pavement again, and every bone in my body ached from the jarring terrain. Not a mile down the black-topped road, I motioned for him to pull over to the shoulder. I threw myself off the bike and hastily ripped off the helmet, letting it roll onto the dark pavement. I vomited into the ditch, wanting to just curl up and die right there. Never could I remember being so sick. Cade stayed by my side and helped me to my feet when I finished. He tenderly brushed the hair from my burning forehead. “It’s just a little farther. Can you make it? Can you keep riding?” he asked.

  I sighed, just wishing he would leave me to perish on the roadside. It didn’t matter if Dacks men found me. A bullet would bring the relief I desired. “I can do it,” I answered instead. He put the helmet back on my head and helped me back on the bike.

  As the dark miles stretched on, I let my mind wander back to the old days, anything to keep from obsessing on Matt’s death.

  ***

  I remembered the night of the talent show when the school finally got to see how gifted Cade Cantrell really was. He’d played guitar for me a few times, so I was already privy to his immense musical ability. He had never sung for me, though, at least not in person, saying he was waiting for the right time. His recorded demo played through my ear buds daily, though, and I knew he sang as beautifully as he played. We had only been on a few dates at the time of the talent show, but it seemed like we’d known each other forever. We talked every single day at school, after school, and sometimes well into the night, without my mother knowing. He’d kissed me, the kind that surpassed an innocent peck, for the first time, just that night before, and I was still riding that high. I had never been kissed that way before, and it was all I could focus on its aftermath. Necking with Will was like being slobbered on by a drooling dog as compared to Cade’s purposeful osculating that didn’t require cleaning my mouth out with his tongue. He had more experience with girls than Will did, but I doubted Will would ever master the art of kissing. He wasn’t in tune with what a girl wanted, even though I’d told him more than once.

  The Friday before the show, at school, Maria and Ashley pestered Cade relentlessly about what he planned to sing that night. He wouldn’t give them, or me, a single hint, though. I couldn’t wait to see him get on that stage, sharing his mesmerizing talent with our peers.

  Cade didn’t make any other friends at school, and that was solely my fault. I consumed every ounce of his time and often felt guilty for it. He never complained, though. Cade’s cousin, Jimmy, along with his jerk friends, teased Cade all the time about his tattoos and piercings. They made relentless jokes about him being gay, but it bothered me more than it did Cade. It broke my heart that his family treated him at home the same way Jimmy did at school. They didn’t understand him and never tried. When he was home, he stayed in his room most of the time studying, or writing, or playing his music. He let it all slide off of him like it meant nothing and in no way touched him. He’d always say, “It’s just one year of my life, Ellia, no worries.”

  The auditorium filled every seat with students and parents that night. The emcees were two popular guys who entertained the audience and were more interesting than most of the acts. Near the end, they introduced Cade, stating that he would be singing a piece he had written himself. The two emcee made snide comments about him and the song, and the crowd laughed at Cade’s expense. I would’ve walked off and never performed had I been in his shoes. He remained collected, though, always in control. He never backed down when he had something to prove.

  The curtain opened, and he sat on a stool, his acoustic guitar in hand, microphone perched in front of his perfect visage, and a spot light shining on him, creating a shadowy silhouette of him on the white backdrop behind him. He was looking down at his instrument, hiding his beauty from the spectators. He appeared almost angelic even though dressed entirely in black. The silence stretched into an awkward moment as Cade took his time, letting the audience wonder what would happen next, Murmurs of laughter flowed through the crowd, and at first, I worried he’d gotten stage fright and couldn’t perform. He had played with his band at some pretty big venues in the past, though, so it seemed unlikely.

  I finally exhaled when he strummed the guitar. He lifted his exquisite face to the room of people and then locked eyes with me. That simple act alone gave me chills. The quiet prelude had not been stage fright, it was for dramatic effect. He then began to sing, and a hush fell upon the auditorium. The music was like a gentle hand stroking every generation in the audience. Tears fell from my eyes as I listened. He sang a hauntingly beautiful lullaby about love, loss, and redemption. It was the most mournful song I’d ever heard, even though it ended on an uplifting note of hope. Looking around, I wasn’t the only one in tears, and after a few silent moments, he received a standing ovation that went on for minutes. I was so proud of him.

  “You are so lucky,” said the freshman girl next to me. I smiled because it was true. I was falling hard for this boy who expressed his sadness through poignant music. His talent was undeniable to anyone in that room. Cade stepped off the stage, and I pushed my way through the crowd to get to him. I threw myself into his arms, and he kissed me, right there in front of the entire student body and all the parents. Our lips didn’t just peck, we locked in a passionate PDA, worthy of several Saturday detentions. A teacher put his hands on our shoulders, though, and warned us to stop at once. We were both embarrassed by getting caught up in a moment, and we walked to the side of the auditorium to watch the last couple of acts. He held my hand tightly inside of his, a small smile on his face, knowing he had reached his audience in a way only a musician could understand. When the emcees announced the winner, Cade made his way back up on the platform to accept his first place prize of fifty dollars.

  The principal handed him the check and shook his hand, but Cade pulled him in and whispered something in his ear. “Well,” said the principal into the microphone, facing the audience. “Mr. Cantrell wants to donate the money back to the cause, so student council; you have fifty more dollars to add to your fund. Let’s give Cade another round of applause.” The room erupted again. He was such a good guy; at least I thought so when I was young and in love.

  ***

  When the bike stopped, we were in front of a tiny motel, miles from where Matt’s cortex lay splattered on a blank canvas. I realized I’d been almost dozing, amazed I’d remained on the back of the motorcycle. Cade helped me off the machine, and we walked inside the office. I still had his helmet on and didn’t care how ridiculous I must look in fleece pajama pants, running shoes, and the oversized jacket. Snot leaked from my nose in a steady stream, and my chest felt tight. I had to resist the urge to giggle at the thought of how I must’ve appeared to the man behind the counter. Cade checked us in under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Jones. He produced an I.D. with the name Joseph Jones on it and a credit card that matched. I didn’t say a word. With the keys in hand,
we left the office and moved the bike around to the back side of the ancient, blue motel, with peeling paint and a saggy roof. Cade parked the shiny black beast behind a dumpster that smelled like dead animals, making me want to vomit again. We entered room number twelve which had only one bed. I looked at him as if he were insane.

  “We checked in as a married couple, Ellia. Don’t you think it would look suspicious if I asked for two beds? Don’t worry, I will sleep on the floor,” he said moving past me, putting my bag on the old saggy bed. “I am going to walk across the street to that pharmacy and get you something for your fever. Do not, under any circumstances, open that door for anyone.” He pulled his pistol out of his shoulder holster. “Keep this near you and use it if needed. I will be right back. Lock the door behind me.” He didn’t know I’d never shot a pistol, and the thought made me giggle. I was the daughter of a cop and had never fired a gun; that seemed hilarious to me in my delirium.

  He went outside. I put the pistol on the night stand and removed the mucus filled helmet, tossing it to the floor. It rolled away and stopped by the chipped leg of the sticky table on the far wall. I sat on the edge of the mattress and removed my shoes. The need to vomit hit me again, and I made it to the toilet just in time to expel the bile left in my empty stomach. Dry heaves shook me, and when they finally subsided, I collapsed on the filthy yellow floor. I heard someone come into the motel room and fear embraced me. I was so weak it scared me, knowing I would not be able to fight off a flea.

  I got to my feet, trying to walk back to the bed, hoping to get to the gun before the intruder, but I tripped on an imaginary crack and fell forward. Cade was quick, dashing across the small space to catch me before I hit the stained carpet. He picked me up like a little girl and put me in the bed before retrieving a glass of water and a couple wet washcloths. The first one, he used to clean the snot and puke from my face and neck. Then he placed a cold rag on my forehead which made me shiver harder. He opened the medicine and poured a dose of liquid Motrin down my throat, followed by another of Tylenol, piggy backing the two drugs to break my fever efficiently.