The Huntress [2018 Archived]

Chapter 4

My first thought when I woke up the next morning was: Nate is dead.

The full impact of it hit me. A kid I knew, a kid in my class, had been murdered. Somehow, it was different then Anna's death. She was a free spirit, interacting with faceless men and drugs. She touched fire and now she got burned. Tragic, yes, but ultimately inevitable.

But Nate was the town's Golden Boy. Who could possibly want to kill him?

"Mail for you," Zach said softly as he knocked on my door. His face was terrified. The full impact of Nate's death was hitting him too.

"Thanks," I said hoarsely. I would not discuss last night's events. I would not remind him that I was suspected of murder.

I opened up a long envelope with a tattered stamp. Inside was a letter:

Dear Alexis,

Hey. If you're reading this letter, that means that I am dead.

Don't feel sorry for me. We both knew it was coming. Eventually. I just wanted to tell you that Tara is safe. My parents are taking care of her. I told the lady who runs the after-school center to mail this if I died. I sort of bullied her into it. :)

Alexis, you were one of my...friends. And I'm okay. -Anna

A lump rose in my throat. Anna knew she'd wind up dead or worse. She had made plans for Tara. Even reconciled with her parents. My only regret was that I couldn't save her while she was still here to save.

"Mom says that you don't have to go to school," Zach told me, sitting on my bed. There was a redness in his eyes. He had been jock friends with Nate.

I knew he was trying to offer some comfort to me, trying to get me to talk about what had happened. I said nothing, just got up and stomped downstairs.

Our house is sort of run-down. The pale blue paint was peeling, making the white trim look filmy and kind of greenish. The floor was scuffed up and there was a hole in the living room wall from when Zach punched through it accidentally. The entire thing sank down into a depression on the south side. Whenever I walked through our house, embarrassment flooded me.

Mom and Ryan were sitting at the kitchen, their heads bent together. Ryan was such a mama's boy. He refused to believe anything bad about our mother, even when presented with the evidence. And she doted on him, only further annoying me. To me, she would always be the woman who made me grow up too fast.

I grabbed my phone-second-hand as I never got anything new-and my headphones and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Mom asked suddenly.

So now you start caring, I thought meanly. I know you must thing I'm an awful person. It's just around my mom, I can't seem to help myself. Everything about her nags me.

I gritted my teeth and spat, "Out for a run."

"Oh, love, don't you want to talk about what's happened?" Mom asked, distressed. "Ryan and I have been talking about Nate. He's traumatized."

He's a big boy, I thought sardonically.

"No, Mother. I want to go for a run. Are you going to stop me?"

"Baby, I'm here to support you, not rule your life," she said, her face pathetic.

I hated that look, that broken, hurt look. Like she was giving up. It was the kind of look she had all the times she ran off on unexplained absences (I just can't handle it anymore! I need time away!), forcing us to care for ourselves, to lie through our teeth: Mommy is gone for the moment, but she'll be back soon. The kind of look that made me want to punch her face in.