Page 58 of Unmasking Mayhem
The weight of the gun, cold and heavy, rests in my shaking hands. My mind races through our laughter, late-night talks, and dreams of escape, memories now haunted by a horrific ending. The masked members buzz with anticipation, fully absorbed in this twisted show, their faces obscured but their hunger for chaos obvious.
Raze, Hawk, and Red stand at the edge of the crowd, their expressions a mixture of horror and disbelief. They can’t turn away, paralyzed by the nightmare unfolding before them. They had all shared memories with me and 13, and the sight of us being torn apart by such a cruel demand is almost too much to bear. Raze clenches his fists, anger boiling within him. They know I'm caught in a web thicker than any club's strobe lights or smoky air; I'm trapped by loyalty, fear, and the cruel manipulations of a monstrous man.
"Whitney, don't do this," 13's voice pierces through the noise.
The moment hangs suspended in time, breath held by everyone, even the shadows in the corners. King steps closer, dangerously confident, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Tick-tock, Whitney. You have five fucking seconds.Choose."
Panic surges through me as I stare into 13's eyes. They reflect the pain of betrayal, but more importantly, a flicker of hope. If I hesitate, if I show weakness, King will pull the trigger himself and kill both of us. The choice is unbearable, leaving me crippled between friendship and survival.
“Whitney!” Raze's voice breaks through, desperate and raw, calling out to me.
In that split second, I feel an overwhelming rush of defiance. I raise the gun slightly, tears spilling down my cheeks, urging me to make a different choice.
But then King’s hand grips my wrist tightly, forcing my aim. “Fucking do it!”
"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I whisper, feeling panic begin to make me entirely numb.
"It’s okay, baby. Go ahead. It's okay," 13 says with a crushing smile on his face as he fights through the tears.
With a sob that feels like it could shatter my insides, I squeeze the trigger, the deafening bang echoing in the basement as the world narrows to the sight of 13’s face twisted in shock and pain. Time slows as his body falls, crumpling to the floor with a thud. The crowd erupts into a mix of shocked gasps and cruel laughter, the scene an unspeakable horror movie.
I drop the gun, my bloodied hands falling to my sides as my heart shatters. King steps back beside D, satisfied with the chaos he’d orchestrated. Raze, Hawk, and Red surge forward from the crowd, faces white and horrified—their attempts to save me and 13 now lost in the nightmare that begins to unravel before them.
The basement pulses with a sickening energy of cheers amidst the tragedy. I collapse to my knees, trembling as the reality of my actions crashes upon me—I had been forced to kill the one person who believed in goodness. All hope dissolves in the haze of the club, leaving me with nothing but sorrow and unrelenting guilt in a world now shrouded in darkness.They say love can save you, but sometimes it’s the love that destroys you that stays with you forever.
nineteen
missing
a week later
Hawk (“Crow”)
The Way: Ariana Grande, Mac Miller
The smoke from the blunt caresses my lips, numbing them as it billows into the frosty air, winter's full embrace surrounding us. Raze and I sit on Whitney's balcony for the first time in days, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. No one has spoken to Whitney since that dreadful night when King forced her to take Carter’s life, and our concern has only deepened.King remains unfazed, but the rest of us are weighed down by worry.
While Red spirals somewhere with a bottle of whiskey and enough drugs to keep him high for days, Raze and I can’t shake the fear that something has happened to Whitney. She isn’t answering her phone or the door, and every entrance we once used to sneak inside is now mysteriously boarded up. Even Boston has been absent, held captive by King at the club.
Today, however, we’re about to hopefully find out the truth. With King and D on their way to Rhode Island for some business, Boston is making her way over here to let us in, and the wait is fucking excruciating. The anticipation wraps around my throat like a noose, and I’m desperate for a moment to breathe.
The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel below pulls me from my thoughts. My heart races, and I exchange a glance with Raze. He crooks a finger toward me, urging me to silence as we strain to hear. Boston's familiar cough echoes through the quiet winter landscape, a sound that feels so out of place in the dark atmosphere that surrounds us. Moments later, she appears at the edge of the balcony, her blonde hair catching the pale sunlight like a halo.
"Hey," she whispers, as if afraid to break the spell of silence that envelops us. The light in her eyes dims slightly when she sees our expressions. "You guys look like hell."
"Yeah, well… It’s hard to relax when we don’t know if Whitney’s okay," I reply, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "Why hasn't she reached out? What the hell is happening up there?"
Boston shuffles her feet, the wooden boards creaking beneath her. “She hasn’t moved much since the—” Boston stops short, catching herself, and instead looks away, tracing her fingers along the side of the railing. "I think she’s just… in a bad place. You know how she gets."
“She needs to talk to us,” Raze adds, his voice steady but thick with concern. "If we don’t check on her now, I’m afraid King will decide to use that time to… I don’t know, do something worse."
Boston nods, biting her lip. "I can get us in, but we have to be quick. I don’t want to be here when King gets back."
With a final glance back at the skyline, I step into the chill of the air, grounding myself against the wave of dread that washes over me. “Let’s go, then,” I say firmly, the sense of urgency eclipsing my earlier fear.
As we head inside through the back entrance Boston managed to pry open, I feel the scent of stale air hit me like a wall. The apartment is just as I remembered it—walls covered in the affections of laughter and memories, now tainted by the heaviness of the silence. But it’s not the apartment that demands my attention; it's the hollow absence of Whitney's presence that looms.
