Page 36 of Beautiful Scars

I'm so sorry Levi. So sorry.

Chapter Eighteen

Levi

Iparkmytrucka few houses down from Sunny's and quietly slip out. I don't want to make any more noise than I have to. There's no telling what I'm about to walk into but I know I should be prepared for anything.

Leaving my mom was the hardest thing I've ever done. There was nothing I could do for her though. I was too late. I should've been there, and I wasn't and there's nothing I can do to fix or change that now.

But for Sunny? Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I still have time. I have to believe that. It's the only thing keeping me standing. I can't lose them both.

The neighborhood's quiet for this early on a Saturday night. There are only a few cars in the driveways up and down the street, and most of the houses are dark. I stop at the end of Sunny's driveway, scanning the house, the yard, for movement or sounds, or anything out of place. From here, I can see the front door to the house is wide open. The house is dark inside—pitch black except for a faint glow coming from a room on the second floor. Sunny's bedroom.

I make my way to the porch and stand, staring into the doorway. Every instinct I have is telling me to run inside and find her, but I'm frozen—locked in place with a heavy sense of dread unlike anything I've ever felt. Fear isn't something I'm used to, but right now? I'm terrified. My mind races through a million different scenarios, each one worse than the last.

I can feel it. The same stillness, the same weighted silence I felt at home right before I found my mom. My chest tightens and the blood in my veins turns to ice.

Please let her be okay.

I whisper the words over and over even though each passing second makes me more positive that this is the last moment anything will ever be okay. The certainty of it settles deep into my bones. I take another step forward, coming to stand just inside the door. I close my eyes and open them slowly, giving them time to adjust to the darkness.

I step deeper inside, listening. There's nothing but empty silence. If anything happened here it's over now. My breath hitches as the room comes into shadowy focus. The front room looks the same as always. I'm ready to breathe a sigh of relief, but then, I see it.

Dark streaks smeared across the door frame leading into the kitchen. Stains, like small drips of black ink making a trail on the carpet, leading up the stairs. The scuffed wooden floor at my feet is a maze of boot prints.Bloody boot prints.

My stomach twists, my hands clenching into fists so tight my knuckles crack. There’s so much blood. Too much. I follow the trail up the stairs, even as my mind screams for me to turn around, to go back. But I can't. I have to know. I have to find her. Adrenaline pushes me forward.

The air at the top of the stairs is thick, suffocating. The hallway leading to her room is littered with evidence of a struggle. Broken picture frames lay in piles of shattered glass, books with broken spines and torn pages are stomped into the carpet. The door to Sunny's room is cracked open, casting dim yellow streaks of light along the walls. Every part of me is screaming in panic, but I can’t stop now. Not when I’m this close. I press a shaking hand to the door and push it open, slowly.

My eyes are filled with red—a hundred different shades of the color are splashed on the walls, the door, the edge of the bed. And in the center of it all is my Angel. Pale, as if she were carved out of marble. The stark white of her skin is a deep contrast to the sea of crimson that covers her skin, her dress, her tangled and matted hair, the floor around her. And she’s… she’s not moving.

Tears well in my eyes. The beautiful dress I bought her is ripped to shreds, the wet scraps clinging to her body. Her face is swollen, covered in the same deep purple and dark blue bruises that cover the rest of her. A series of deep slashes are carved into her chest from her collarbone to her ribs. There's so much blood. So much fucking blood that it's hard to imagine it's all hers.

My knees buckle before I even realize I’ve moved, and I fall to the floor next to her, my hands reaching out for her, aching to feel her warmth. But she’s cold. So cold. And so still. I stare at her, willing her to move. But she doesn't. Her chest doesn’t rise. Her lips don’t part. Her eyes stay closed tight.

When I grab her wrist and lift it, her hand falls to the side, limp and twisted awkwardly, her fingers bent at impossible angles. Bile rises in my throat at the sickening feel of bone grinding against bone. I close my eyes for a second, swallowing hard. I lower her hand gently and reach for the other one.

My pulse thunders through my body so loud I can barely think. My hands won’t stop shaking as I press unsteady fingers to the soft skin of her wrist. As I wait, I graze my lips over her fingers, kissing each one, tasting copper and the salt of the tears that are now streaming down my face.

"Sunny." Her name escapes as barely a whisper, my voice shaking. I close my eyes, my fingers still pressed to her wrist, waiting.

Please, just one beat. One thump. Let there be something... anything.

I sit motionless, straining for the faintest flutter, the slightest thrum. My hands are trembling, and the air feels heavy with static. My breath comes in ragged gasps, drowning out everything else.

There’s nothing there.

My heart seizes and my eyes burn—I lower her hand and press my ear to her lips, hoping for a sound, a breath, anything to tell me I’m wrong.

The silence seems to grow louder, pressing into my ears, filling me until there’s only her cold stillness and the endless echo of my own heartbeat.

She's gone.

A strangled sound escapes me, something between a sob and a scream, and my whole body shudders. I grab her, pulling her limp body into my arms, her blood soaking my clothes, smearing across my hands, my face, but I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

I shake her, gently at first, then harder. A small stream of bright red blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. “Sunny. Please. Please… wake up.”

Nothing.

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