Page 60 of Wicked Nasty

The reality of Becca's impulsive decision hits me like a ton of bricks. I hang up without saying anything and inhale deeply, trying to steady my emotions.

How could she just leave us all behind for a wild hunch?

How could she be so selfish to leave behind the people who care for her the most?

My fists clench in frustration as I turn on the ignition and stare out at the dark highway stretching ahead. Anger, hurt, sadness, confusion - they all swirl inside me as I drive home alone.

As I step through the threshold of my house, my eyes are immediately drawn to the group gathered in the living room. My family sits alongside Becca's father, his presence like a thorn in my side. My gaze hardens as I remember how he had given Becca the false hope that Katya was still alive out there somewhere.

My mother approaches me, her kind eyes filled with sympathy. "It's okay," she whispers.

But I can't bring myself to believe her. I pull away and slump onto the couch, feeling heavy with emotion. Becca's father stands up, a guilty look on his face.

"Danny, I'm sorry she left you so suddenly. I didn't expect her to rush off like that."

I sneer at him, my anger bubbling to the surface. "You knew," I accuse. "You knew that Becca had never let go of Katya. You gave her those letters, you gave her the note. You knew it would fuel her obsession!"

In an instant, I am standing toe to toe with him, unafraid. My emotions are a tangled mess - anger, sadness, betrayal. I need an outlet for all of it. I need to feel pain. To escape from this overwhelming reality.

I need to feel Becca’s body under mine…

Her father's eyes bore into mine, his face twisted with anger and pain. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he seethes. "You don't know the depths of my suffering."

With a forceful shove, I stumble backwards, my father rushing over to intervene. His voice is calm but concerned as he tries to diffuse the tension.

“Okay, let’s just all take a deep breath here.”

But I can't let it go. A sinister smile spreads across my face, fueled by the physical and emotional agony that consumes me. The pain it numbs everything else. It's a shield, protecting me from the overwhelming grief and anger coursing through my veins.

"It doesn't matter, Dad!" I shout at him, turning to address the rest of my family in the room. "Becca is gone and there's nothing we can do about it!" My words are laced with bitterness and resentment. "She never cared about us, anyway. We were just pawns in her twisted game."

The weight of our loss hangs heavy in the air, each person in the room grappling with their own emotions. But for me, it's all drowned out by the unrelenting pain that claws at my chest. At this moment, it's all-consuming and all that matters.

I angrily storm out of the room, my feet stomping heavily on the floor as I make my way to my bedroom. My bong sits invitingly on my desk, and I grab it with a sense of satisfaction. As I step out onto my balcony, I am hit with a sudden wave of emotion that feels like all the air has been sucked out of me.

It's a feeling that is unfamiliar yet strangely addicting.

The warm smoke fills my lungs and slowly spreads throughout my body, easing the tension and calming my racing thoughts. With each exhale, the high washes over me like a wave, numbing my emotions and bringing a sense of peace. But deep down, I know this temporary escape won't solve the turmoil within me.

Grabbing my phone, I shoot a text to Ryan.

Yo, man. Becca is gone. Ran off on some wild goose chase to find that old nanny, Katya.

Oh.

Yeah. Everybody is upset.

Are you?

I let the question hang in the air, like a heavy cloud waiting to burst.

Am I upset that she left? Am I upset that she left to find Katya, the mysterious figure who had raised her?

Or am I upset with the fact that Becca had vanished without so much as a goodbye?

The realization hits me like a tidal wave crashing against the shore - I have developed feelings for her. Feelings that are now tangled and jumbled, twisted into knots of confusion and hurt.

As I stand there, my mind racing with memories and emotions, each one vying for my attention like a flock of birds fighting over breadcrumbs.

---