Under a Silent Moon

46

Chapter Forty-Six: Everything is Red

LANA

I hear the sirens before I see them. The ambulance and firemen and police rush past me in the direction of the high school. I quickly find a stoop to rest on because I'm having trouble steadying myself.

The coldness of the cement permeates through my jeans, sending chills up my spine, but I don't make any move to warm up. I welcome the discomfort. I welcome anything at all--anything is better than the numbness encapsulating my heart as the moments pass by.

I cup my face in the palms of my hands, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly that green and red splotches appear like fireworks behind my eyelids. He's all I can see. I see Zack running down the field to score a touchdown. I see him cradling Julia in his arms as she wiggles to escape his playful attack. I see him leaning against my locker in between classes, smiling, handing me the books I struggle to reach in the top portion.

But then everything is red. The crimson color trickles slowly into my visions, like lava crawling down a volcano. The lockers are splattered in red. Pools of red engulf my feet, soaking my shoes, socks, pants . . .

My eyes dart open, and I'm almost disappointed to see that everything is normal. People cross the street, cars come to a stop at the traffic light, squirrels scurry up oak trees. Doesn't the world know what has happened? Can't they smell the carnage behind the doors of room 201?

When I finally force myself to go home, it's late. I assume Mom is already in bed, but I'm surprised when I find her on the couch with the flickering of the TV serving as the only light in the room.

Mom stands up as I shut the door quietly behind me. I don't know if I can face anyone right now, let alone her.

I'm about to walk straight upstairs, definitely not in the mood for another one of her lectures, when I catch a glimpse of her face. She's closer to me now. I didn't even hear her get up. Her features are showing that of sympathy, and it's a look I've never seen on her before. It's . . . strange.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she says soothingly.

I go to say "thanks" or "I'm okay" or some other bullshit, but my body doesn't let me. I heave forward, sobbing violently. Mom catches me and holds me close in an embrace. The scent of her floral perfume takes me back to my childhood when I would sit on her lap and we would read bedtime stories together. She would always praise me for pronouncing the "big words" correctly.

Her bony hand grasps my hair loosely and she says into my ear, "Let me help you. Please let me help you. I don't want to lose you like we lost Dad."

I hear myself say, "Okay, Mom."

The next morning, Amanda's awake. She won't be discharged for some time--the doctor's need to keep monitoring her to make sure she hasn't suffered any major brain damage. So far, it seems as though the only memory loss she's experiencing is from the night of the accident.

Mom explains to her what happened. What happened the night of her accident, the fact that Blake visited, and finally, the tragedy that struck Grasshill High. Amanda listens in horror.

My eyes are glued to the TV despite myself. The knot in my stomach twists tighter and tighter until I'm sure my insides will fall apart, but I can't help it. I have to know how the news is reporting this. Is it obvious that Zack murdered his classmates in cold blood? Can they even identify any of the students after the fire? Will they show the grieving families? I don't think I can bear to watch.

I'm so preoccupied with the TV that I don't even notice Amanda is talking to me, watching me from her peripherals. I see her open her mouth then clamp it shut. I turn to her.

"What?"

She hesitates, but asks, "Did you see it?"

The it she's referring to, I assume, is the massacre.

A pause. "Yes,"

"Did you see him . . .?"

"No."

The blonde anchor is reporting, her high-pitched voice filling our living room: "The details of this gruesome scene are still trickling in, but investigators say the Grasshill High students were deceased long before any fire broke out. The fire seemed to have been started by seventeen-year-old Zackary Ions, a senior at the school who only recently returned after a sixth-month disappearance. Police say it appears as though Ions set himself aflame. A motive is yet to be determined."

Then Zack's dad's face appears on the screen, stoic and unfocused.

"He was a happy kid, very talented and successful. He was going to do something with his life . . ."

I stop listening.