𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞〚𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 〛

Chapter 39: You Killed Her

"She's dead," breathed Delilah. "She's dead."

Trying to calm her ragged breathing, she locked her arms and applied regular compressions with trembling hands. Susan couldn't be dead, it was impossible, she wouldn't accept it. 

Arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her away from the still-warm body. She trashed against the person's hold, screaming in near hysterics.

"Stop, Deli! It's me."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognised her best friend's voice. And the voice of a killer. 

She stopped fighting back, having no strength to do so. Her mind was in a daze as Rafe carried her to the truck, only half conscious of what was happening around her.

"What did you do?" she whispered as Rafe buckled her seatbelt.

"I did what was necessary," he said firmly.

"You killed a woman."

"She was about to arrest my dad!" he snapped.

"Who killed Big John!" she answered with mounting anger.

"You believe that?" he growled, leaning in and trapping her.

Through her panic stricken mind, she registered that this was a dangerous situation. Rafe was in power, and not exactly conscious of his actions. Not to forget what anger could make him do. She needed to thread carefully. The thought managed to clear the fog taking over her mind.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Ray," she whimpered, giving herself a vulnerable appearance. "I'm scared."

Rafe's expression softened. Delilah stopped herself from recoiling as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's ok. I am too, you know?"

"Scared?" scoffed Sarah, sitting in the back seat. "Didn't seem scared when you shot the sheriff!"

"She had the hammer back," justified Rafe. "She was going to kill him. What did you want me to do? Stand there and hope for the best?"

"She was going to arrest him!" shrieked Sarah, looking exactly like Delilah was feeling. 

But her outburst was slowly making Rafe's anger and confusion resurface. That was the last thing they needed.

"Sarah, shut up!" she snapped.

The girl fell back against her seat, startled.

"Rafe. Ray, look at me," she said, noting how he was starting to hyperventilate. "It's going to be ok. We're going to figure this out."

"Yeah," he said, as if trying to reassure himself. "Yeah, of course."

She tried to smile, but wasn't certain if it was convincing or not. 

She knew it wasn't going to be fine. One day or another, the story would come out, if it didn't eat him up from the inside first. If he could plead clinically insane in court, perhaps the sentence could be shortened. Or not. At this point, she shouldn't care. 

A plane soared above the truck and she choked back a sob as she stared at her blood stained hands. All of this, to be left only with a piece of paper, a number she wasn't sure was useful, and no hope. 

When the truck stopped and Rafe came around to open the door, she mumbled something incoherent about having to go see her aunt and uncle.

"You're not leaving in this state," he said, half dragging, half carrying her out.

"Rafe," she pleaded. "I have to clear my head. Please, let me go."

He tightened his grip on her arm. "Clear your head, huh? Away from me."