“This is my reckoning. I’ve been waiting for it for too long.”
“Good. I thought you were going to say something to scare me more,” he replied.
She shook her head. “It was an accident.”
“You murdered a cop?”
Then, a bang at the door made them both flinch. “GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” It was Trevor. Bang. Bang. More gunshots fired. Trevor pulled his gun and stepped in front of Erin. Is he going to kill us both?
Trevor’s eyes were red, his skin white, and he was soaked, covered in sand from head to toe. The lunacy of his entire being was terrifying. His eyes darted back and forth with both confusion and rage. Stefan held out his hands to block Erin, and a staring contest ensued. “Just let her go,” said Trevor.
“You should leave.”
Trevor assessed the arrangement, Stefan blocking her as if protecting her. “Just let her go.” His dumbfounded look locked in on Erin. “Erin, come with me. We’re leaving. We’re going home.”
Trevor glanced at the blood-ridden kitchen floor.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The words were not even understood, like he misheard her. He looked dangerous, paranoid, obsessed. His shaking gun was raised uncomfortably at Stefan, making uneven circles in the air.
“He’s doing this to you. The island is doing this to you!” shouted Trevor.
“Drop your gun, Trevor,” she said.
“Not until he drops his.”
“We know what you did.”
“I didn’t do that!” he snapped like a sick dog foaming at the mouth. “That was him. It was all part of his sick games. Can’t you see that?”
“I see that your honestly confused, but—”
“You’re going to get us killed, Erin.”
“Listen to me. This isn’t you. This is this stupid place, Trevor. Let go of whatever it is. You’re in control. And we can go home. But you have to slide over your gun.”
Trevor shook his head in frustration. “He’s filling your head with complete nonsense.”
“Tell me the cheating wasn’t your choice.” His head bobbed back as though the suggestion was ludicrous. She continued. “Please tell me that nothing happened before we got here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Not a clue. Erin, I love you and I just want to go home with you.”
The words hurt. He was only saying them out of desperation. He had never told her he loved her. It was a lie.
“No, you don’t. And that’s okay. Just put the gun down so nobody else gets hurt.”
His shoulders rolled forward in defeat as he lowered to the ground. “We’re all dead.”
Heavy footsteps came crashing into the living room as Bruce charged up with his rifle pointed straight at Stefan. “I’d keep that gun up if I were you.”
Erin sidestepped around Stefan and raised her gun at Bruce. “We all need to calm down,” he said.
She glanced to her left. Stefan looked poised to fire, as did Trevor. “You two are family. Without any guns, let’s share what we know… Like the photograph I found.”
“What photograph?” asked Trevor.
“I have one in my pocket.” She reached in slowly and pulled it out. “I can take you to the rest of them. In the cabin.” She scowled at Bruce.
“We don’t need to see anymore pictures.” urged Stefan. “We have evidence. We know that Trevor killed Skye.”
“That wasn’t me. Erin. That wasn’t me.”
Erin held the picture in front of Stefan and then tossed it over to Trevor. It fell at his feet. “Listen,” she said. “I don’t care what you two say—”
The sound of Bruce’s rifle filled her ears with a sharp blast, followed by muddled ringing. The smoke was redolent of campfire. Her gaze fell on Stefan, who was keeled over, blood spilling out of him. He rolled over, looking up at her with pleading eyes. The blood spit up from his lips, making her cry out as she dropped her gun and rushed over to tend to him. “You’re going to be okay.” His stomach was soaked in dark blood, a purplish hue prominent around the point of entry.
Bruce shook Trevor from his trance. “The plan. Getting you home. I’ll handle all this. You just need to leave. That’s all.”
“Erin—”
“Get away from me!” she snapped, holding Stefan, shielding his body from them. He was fading fast. He reached up and touched her cheek, his hand warm from the blood. He smiled at her. She squeezed his hand tight against her cheek, leaned forward, and ran her hand through his hair and whispered, “We got help on the way. Tomorrow morning you’ll be on a beach. Mainland. Okay?” She had felt his smile against her cheek, but as she finished her sentence, he gasped for air and was dead. She rolled over onto the floor, wiped her tears, and looked up at the two of them with pure contempt.
“Erin, I didn’t want any of this,” said Trevor.
She crawled over to Bruce. “Finish the job then. Kill us.”
Trevor dropped to his knees to be with her. “What are you doing?”
“Just kill me. Come on!” Bruce didn’t move an inch, just stared down at her.
Trevor’s voice was a whisper now. “I know you don’t believe a word I’m saying. That’s okay. I deserve that. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend. But my only concern is getting you off this island safely and returning you back home with or without me. Your safety is my only priority.”
Her laugh was disturbed. “My safety… Something that should only be described as irrelevant.”
“Don’t talk like that, E.”
“I deserve this.” She looked at her red hands. “It was coming around the bend sooner or later. After enough time, I just always thought it’d be later.”
“What’re you talking about?”
She finally lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, no longer caring to gauge his intentions. “I’ve been so sick. Sick of waiting for it. I was intending to ask what your plans were, but I don’t care anymore. Just let Ashton go. He’s a good person, okay?”
Erin grabbed hold of his face callously, digging in her nails slightly. “If you’re still in there, I hope you don’t remember any of this shit.”
“Let me help you up. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Okay,” she said, emotionless. She was dragged up by her shoulders and when Trevor let go of, her she crumbled. He caught her before she crashed into the floor.
Trevor carried her across the inner part of the island, past Bruce’s cabin. She stared at the logged cabin and thought of the pictures. Teresa.
They entered the trees and the wind changed directions. The rain stopped its roaring pace and fizzled to a dainty drizzle, droplets hitting her forehead. They walked through the trees, heading toward where she remembered the boat dock was.
They arrived at the dock. Stefan’s yacht was there, but there was no Arnie. Bruce stepped aboard and searched for keys but cursed when he couldn’t find them. Stay a while. Stay a while. It played on a loop, making her feel stoned again. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t anymore.
“No keys?”
“Nope.”
They emerged from the shadowy edges of palm trees. The Royal Family. They were all dressed in current clothing, unlike the photo she had discovered. Erin could feel Trevor backing up with short steps until he finally sat her down in the sand. He was stammering as he tried to speak. “How did you get out?”
“Because I wanted to. And I deserved to,” said Sebastian.
Each one of the Royal Family had a weapon in their hands; the hatchet in young Jhett’s hand, the dagger in Cassidy’s, Sebastian with his trident, and Teresa with the smoothly polished and rustic revolver. She fingered the short shaft of her gun gently, and a devilish grin settled permanently on her face. Trevor raised his gun, his eyes widening. Erin was still lifeless, along for the ride, craving nothing but misery. Distaste appeared to hit Teresa’s tongue as she cringed at the sight of Erin sitting on the wet ground in such a helpless fashion. “My child…” Teresa stepped toward her in attempts to comfort her.