“Couldn’t let him go?” Chloe mocked. “Couldn’t ask for help? Couldn’t see past your own stupid nose is more like it. You’re a victim, Sawyer. Look at everything bad that happens to poor, poor Sawyer. You didn’t need him. So when I saw an opportunity, I took it.”
“What are you—”
“That night. You finally—finally—broke up with him. But I knew it wouldn’t stick. You’d go crawling back to him. He’d tell you how much he loved you, and you would turn into a big, sobbing bowl of jelly. So I stepped in. You know what happens when guys drink, Sawyer? They get horny. And a guy like Kevin Anderson doesn’t really care where he gets it from.”
“You…” Sawyer couldn’t push the words past her teeth.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised. You weren’t the only one. And neither was I.” Chloe shrugged again, the knife bobbing in her hand. The sharp blade caught the light, and Sawyer sucked in a breath.
“It was the perfect storm that night,” Chloe went on. A grin spread across her face and the calm serenity in it was chilling. “One, two, three…Kevin Anderson, done in by me.” She seemed proud of her macabre rhyme and laughed, the tinkling sound catching in the charged air.
“So, your brake lines? The gash on your head? That was all you?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Sawyer! I had to play the game!”
“This is a game to you?”
She shrugged again, looking suddenly, chillingly, nonchalant. “Let’s say I was killing two birds with one stone. Everyone thinks someone’s out to get me.” Chloe’s eyes suddenly went hard. “Maybe paying me some kind of attention for once.”
Sawyer swallowed. “And?”
“And my crap excuse for a mom gets the ride of her life on her way to work.” Chloe held out her hands like a scale. “Win, win.” She licked her lips and a grin spread across her face. It was maniacal, totally gleeful, and it gave Sawyer terrified chills.
“But you said the car was fixed.”
“Yeah.” Chloe nodded, still grinning. “It was.”
Sawyer’s breath hitched on a sob as the weight of Chloe’s confessions pressed against her. “You murdered my boyfriend. You were there that night. The shoe—my shoes—and the sweatshirt. You took Kevin’s sweatshirt.”
Chloe’s lower lip popped out. “I was cold.”
Sawyer worked to form the words. “You killed my boyfriend.”
Chloe abruptly dropped the strand of hair and narrowed her eyes. “Some boyfriend,” she spat.
Sawyer shook her head, incredulous. “You framed me, Chloe. You put all that stuff in my locker.”
A ripple of fury washed over Chloe’s face. Her nostrils flared, her lip curled slightly. “You weren’t listening, Sawyer. I had to make you listen.”
“By getting me thrown in jail?”
“It wouldn’t have gone that far. I would have saved you. I needed to get your attention, to force you to listen. You can be a little hardheaded, Sawyer.”
“I can’t believe—I can’t believe…” Sawyer’s lower lip started to tremble. Chloe frowned, her eyes mirroring Sawyer’s sadness.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”
“I’m not apologizing!”
Chloe stepped toward Sawyer so that their faces were mere inches apart. Chloe cocked her head, and Sawyer watched the blade come up. Chloe pushed a heavy lock of Sawyer’s hair away with it and Sawyer tried to hold still, tried to stay herself against the rippling shiver that went through her body as a few strands of her hair, severed by the knife, fell against her bare arm.
“Do you see why I had to do it? Why I had to take care of you? I’m always taking care you. But that’s fine.” A weird, slow smile spread across Chloe’s face. “I like taking care of you.”
“You need help, Chloe. You need serious help.”
Chloe cocked an annoyed eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Excuse me?”
“You’re crazy.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “I’m crazy?” she sputtered. “I’m crazy? I try and protect my best friend, and what does she do? She goes and plays human punching bag with some cocksucking jock. And for what? So you can be ‘popular’?” Chloe made air quotes around the word, but her eyes were wild and deadly serious. “So you can sit in the cool section at the big game with all the other silicone-stuffed lemmings?” She scratched her head at the part. “Come on, Sawyer. You’re pretty and all, but not pretty enough to be that dumb.”
Sawyer stared at Chloe, dumbfounded, and Chloe stomped a foot. “Are you kidding me? You still think he loved you.” Chloe got up in Sawyer’s face again, bits of spit sticking to Sawyer’s cheek as Chloe bit off her words. “He didn’t care about you. But you wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the face.” Chloe used both her hands to smack Sawyer’s cheeks. “You never even paid attention to me when Kevin came around.” Her voice was a low whisper.
Sawyer wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “What? I don’t understand. I mean, why—why now? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Why?” Chloe gaped, looking wildly astonished. She stumbled backward and sank into an armchair, her fingers absently running over the knife. “I really, really can’t believe you’d ask me that. I mean really, Sawyer, you’re making me look bad.”
“But—”
“But, but, but,” she mocked, “of course. Why would I do this to you? The answer is in the question.” She laughed mirthlessly. “People are dead all around you, and you ask why I did this to you. It’s not what I did to you, it’s what I did for you. What I always do for you.” She jabbed an index finger toward her chest. “I protect you. But do you see it? No,” she dragged out the word. “Of course not. You never see it because it’s all about Sawyer. Sawyer’s boyfriend. Sawyer’s teacher making a pass at her. Sawyer’s new family. Sawyer, Sawyer, Sawyer.” Chloe stood. “But what about Chloe?” she pointed the knife at herself. “What about me?” Her eyes flashed back to a fresh, clear blue, and when she blinked, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Sawyer sucked in a shaky breath and thought about Tara lying nearly unconscious upstairs, thought about her baby sister. There was no way past Chloe and her knife. No cell phone, no help on the way. She licked her lips.
“I love you, Chloe,” Sawyer said, her voice a breathy whisper.
Chloe sniffed and shook her head. “Don’t you say that. You don’t love me.”
“I do.” Sawyer took a step forward.
“Stop!” she gripped the knife and shoved it in front of her. Sawyer’s eyes went to it, and she felt herself start to shake. She steeled herself, forced herself to look away.
“You don’t really care about me,” she murmured.
“What did you say?”
Sawyer swung her head to face Chloe and kept her words flat and matter-of-fact. “I said, you don’t really care about me. You don’t really love me.” She chuckled. “I guess you were right. I don’t know anything about love.”
Chloe gaped. “Are you kidding me? All this. I did all of this for you.”
“I think you did it for you. I think you like to hurt people and you wanted an excuse to do it. You don’t love me, Chloe, you don’t even like me half the time.”
“Shut up!”
The smack across Sawyer’s face was hard. It stung, and she reeled. She tried her best to stay calm, unaffected, as she wiped her hand across her throbbing nose. She looked at the blood in her palm, tasted it gushing from the front of her mouth. “That just proves it.”
“No.” Chloe’s eyes were big, the tears falling immediately. She raked her fingers through her hair, still clutching the knife in front of her. “I’m sorry, Sawyer, I didn’t mean to do that. But you—you don’t understand. I love you. I love you so, so much. Can’t you see? Everything I do. Are you listening to me?”