Playing With Fire

Chapter Fifty-One

Recap

Travis               

                He ignores my response, "Do you remember our last family reunion?"

                I bite my lip and clamp my eyes shut, holding back every emotion and memory that his question ignites. The pain, it hurts more than I can remember, having pushed it away for so long.

               "I think you do," James continues, "Cassie Emmons. She was beautiful, her death was the saddest part of my day."

               Unwillingly, I remember the hand that pulled the trigger that ended her life—the careless shrug that followed—all James. I pull my head away from the phone, despising the way my eyes begin to burn just at the sole mention of her name coming from his mouth. I knew that he was going to pull this card on me, though I hoped he wouldn't. The Cassie Card.

              "This game—it ends when you do." His voice comes out guttural and visceral. "If you don't want a repeat of your sister's death—many repeats—I suggest you meet us all at the police station." James pauses reflectively and adds, "Alone."

               I hang up the phone and toss it forcefully onto the passenger seat.

               "No, James." I jam the key into the ignition and start the car, making a face as his name tumbles off my tongue. I think of Cassie, I think of the ways she made me stronger, I think of her courage and bravery, I think of her fiery spirit. Then, I think of revenge. "It's game over for you."

Chapter Fifty One

              As soon as I pushed past the station doors, I started to shout for help. I was in a panic, completely terrified that Chase was only a few seconds behind me. Mentally, I began to pray that he valued his freedom too much to run in after me and get himself arrested.

              I glanced around, completely flabbergasted when the sheriff behind the front desk makes no move whatsoever. When I come to think of it, he didn't even flinch when I came barging in. I rush up to the counter, my breath heavy and hard, and knock forcefully and desperately on the gray surface.

              "Officer!" I barely recognize my shaken voice. "Please help me!"

              No response.

             I stare at the back of his head, growing angry and frustrated by the second. It's as if he can't tell I am right there, begging him to keep me safe. With a final, overwhelmingly exhausting attempt, I shout at him like a mad dog while kicking the foundation of the counter as hard as I can.

            I am going insane—I can feel the hysteria slithering up my body like grapevines. As it does so, I grow unstable, imagining things I know wouldn't be there if I weren't going crazy.

            As if a switch flipped, I begin to take notice in the fact that the entire station is rather quiet—too quiet. The halls are a mess, as if someone had intentionally come in and wiped everything off all of the surfaces in a rush. Chairs were lopsided, on the floor, broken.

             My breath becomes shallow, I dart my eyes all around the room as an eerie sensation washes over me. Then, I dart my eyes back over to the officer facing away from me.