I Heard You Scream Read online

  Copyright © 2022 by Emerald O'Brien

  Editing by K R Stanfield

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America.

  For Meghan,

  who guides me through the trees

  until I see the forest.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  2. Past

  Chapter 3

  4. Past

  Chapter 5

  6. Past

  Chapter 7

  8. Past

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  11. Past

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  16. Past

  Chapter 17

  18. Past

  Chapter 19

  20. Past

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  24. Past

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Your Free eBook

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Emerald O'Brien

  1

  It’s difficult to see things coming in the eye of a storm.

  A raven sits on a wire, glaring at me. The light beside it glows green with the gray sky behind it. Cam drives forward through the intersection, and I close my eyes. I fight to keep saliva from pooling in my mouth by clenching my stomach muscles repetitively, almost involuntarily. My heart races, pounding in my ears as I grip the seatbelt across my chest, pulling it away to take full, purposeful breaths.

  Breathing is the key to most things in life.

  Cam was right to suggest the Xanax before we left, despite the fuss I put up about it. Begrudgingly, I took it. Somehow, agreeing to take the little white coffin-shaped pill felt like a dead giveaway; Cam might uncover that there’s more to this day—this memorial—than anyone could ever know. I wouldn’t risk him catching a glimpse of fear in my eyes.

  His hand glides over the polyester wrap of my dress against my thigh, up my lap, and into my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. He twists at the diamond ring he placed on my index finger a few months ago in a nervous, fidgeting manner. I often do the same. It’s a mindless motion that eats at me with each twist. In mere seconds, he’s ratcheted my anxiety levels through the roof.

  I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want to be here.

  I squeeze both my hands over his to make him stop without having to speak. The stillness prevents my skin from crawling with frustration for long enough to take another deep breath.

  He’s just trying to offer support. Don’t push him away like you always do—not today.

  I squeeze his hand and his stops moving. Much better.

  The relief doesn’t last long.

  “Did Jordan contact you at all yet?” Cam’s smooth, deep voice interrupts the silence as he switches lanes with one hand.

  I need to breathe. Just keep breathing.

  “Chels?”

  He stares at me, his dapper suit hugging him in a perfect fit against his solid frame, waiting for a response.

  “No.” Attitude permeates the word as I turn my whole body away from him toward the window. I expect to see that raven still watching me, but the sky only offers mottled clouds.

  Cam mutters something, but I don’t catch it. I inhale deeply through my nose as my muscles tense, and exhale through my lips. Don’t let him bait you. Just keep breathing. I can still taste the remnants of Xanax on my tongue. It’ll kick in soon. It always does.

  “I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t check in today.” His body shifts toward me in my peripheral. “Of all days.”

  My clenched jaw doesn’t stop me from speaking. “This isn’t a surprise. That’s how my brother is, and you wouldn’t know because you’ve never met him.”

  “I know if my brother or sister had been through even a fraction of what you have, I’d have been there for them. That’s what siblings do, Chels, and I’m sorry yours hasn’t been there for you.”

  I can’t explain it to him any better than I have before, and the fact that he insists on bringing him up now urges me to put it to bed for good. “He probably doesn’t even know what day it is.” As the lie leaves my lips, I peer over at Cam.

  He raises his brows, staring at the road ahead. “The whole town knows what day it is. You shouldn’t make excuses for him.”

  “I’m not. That’s not why he hasn’t called. You know why he hasn’t.”

  “It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Steven was his friend. Fine.” He tosses his right hand in the air, shoving it back toward the steering wheel in the next motion. “I get how that complicates feelings but after what he did to—to all of you.” He shakes his head as we veer left along the familiar curve in the road toward the water on the horizon. To the house where it all happened. “You’re the only family Jordan has, and he’s it for you, too. He should be here today. His loyalty is to you—not that monster.”

  Our mother passed after a battle with cancer when we were young, and our dad died of cirrhosis nearly a decade ago. I hated to be reminded that the only kin I had left hadn’t spoken to me for almost five years.

  I take a huge breath, my stomach heaving as I close my eyes and exhale through my lips. The pill must be kicking in because I can’t hear my heartbeat anymore. It’s muffled as the word monster echoes in my mind. I can’t hear Cam’s voice, the gentle hum of the car’s engine, or even my own breathing.

  But I see Steven behind my lids. His hands covered in blood, holding the knife.

  “Jordan should be loyal to you. Y’know, maybe he’ll surprise you. Maybe he’ll be there—”

  “Cam.” I turn to him slowly and he stops, glancing at me and back to the road ahead. “Could you please drop it? I know how you feel. I have support. I have you. Kellan and Oz are coming, too. I’m okay. Today is going to be okay. It’s just something we have to get through.”

  I told myself that on the first, second, third, and fourth anniversary of my friends’ murders, and it was true. I made it through each of those days, and our secrets did, too.

  “We’ll get through it together, babe.” He grabs my hand again, but I feel numb, unsure if it’s the Xanax taking its course, or the stress-induced adrenaline running through me.

  I give him a small smile. I’ve been alone for a long time, carrying the burden of truth. No matter how far I go from this town, or how much time passes, I’ll never escape my past. I know that, now.

  My eyes flutter open and closed as my body slumps back in the seat. Our car rolls to a stop at the end of a long line of cars parked in front of Lennox and Eliana’s old house. The last place I saw my friends alive. Cam shifts into park. Across the street, a couple walks along the beach, unfazed by the dreariness of the day, unaware of the murders that took place close by.

  “Would you be happy if he came?” His gentle tone and slow cadence keep me from shouting at him to stop. “Would you want to see him?”

  His green eyes innocently search mine. He’s just trying to be supportive. His intentions are good, but he doesn’t understand. Jordan doesn’t, either, and that’s how I know he won’t be there for me ever again.

  “Jordan
doesn’t know how to deal with what happened.” My gaze falls from him to the water along the horizon. “I don’t, either, but I don’t have the luxury of avoiding it like he does. He removed himself from all of it, Cam. He’s not coming. The sooner you accept that, the less disappointment you’ll feel.”

  “Your brother’s best friend killed four of your closest friends.” He shakes his head. “He almost killed you—would have if the cops hadn’t shot him.” He faces me, but I continue looking past him at the water, the choppy waves rolling slightly off-parallel to the shore. “If Jordan misses one more chance to show up for you in the way you need, I’ll support your decision to let it be this way. No, you know what?” He pulls the keys from the ignition. “I’ll make sure if he ever tries to come back, he knows the damage he’s done, and he won’t have another chance to hurt you.”

  I rub my temple, facing the frustration in his gaze as he grips the keys in his fist. That’s a look I can take; I can handle that emotion today. I’d take that over the pity and judgement in the eyes soon to fall on me.

  “Jordan never tried to understand what happened that night.” I lick my lips and rest my hand on his fist. “He refused to believe his best friend was capable of—of what he did.”

  Beyond the white picket fence, the large wooden door of Lennox and Eliana’s two-storey house catches my eye. I can hear the deep, hollow knocks, even now. What if we’d just refused to let him in? What if we’d called the police instead of listening to Morgan?

  “Chels?”

  I conjure the last of my patience. “Jordan wasn’t there that night. He didn’t see...” Steven with the knife. The knife he jammed in Morgan’s chest. I held her hand while she choked to death on her own blood. I shake the image away and fight to focus on Cam again. “He can choose what he wants to believe. I can’t control that.”

  I can only control myself, and acknowledging that simple fact gives me the power I need to get through this anniversary memorial one last time.

  Cam squeezes my hand and I pull away. I look back at the house. Beyond the fence, a small group holding white rose stems gathers by where the peony bushes used to be—Ellie’s favourite. I have to focus on who I am to these people. I have to be who they think I am. That’s all that matters for today. Just today.

  I open my purse to find my sunglasses, desperate for the modicum of privacy they’ll bring me, and my fingers glide along the white envelope inside.

  It will all be over soon.

  Cam says something, but I can’t focus. My mind returns to that night. The night I’ve forced from my memory any time it arises. The night it all went wrong. The night the blood stained my hands, too.

  2

  PAST

  Shadows from the flames of a dozen white candlesticks dance along the walls of Lennox and Eliana’s dining room. As I twirl the spaghetti around my fork, a garlic aroma wafts toward me. An acoustic version of a rock song I can’t quite place plays from the speakers in the kitchen beside us as Lennox walks through the archway, another basket of cheesy garlic bread in his hands. He places it in front of me with a wink and scoots behind his sister, Eliana, to his seat between her and John.

  In that moment, it hits me that if it hadn’t been for the Halloween party, we all might never have met. It’s strange how you can live in the same region, but if you went to different schools like we did, your paths might not cross.

  John always sits at the head of the table. It’s a spot he naturally took, and it suits him. If he hadn’t introduced himself to me at the Halloween party last year, we’d all never have met in the first place.

  “Would you pass that my way when you’re done?” John nods to me with a perfect white smile from the head of the table as I take a piece.

  I hand the basket to Morgan on my left, and she takes a piece before passing it to John beside her.

  “I’m glad you came this time.” John’s fingers connect with hers before she lets go, and they exchange grins, matching pink flooding their cheeks. John takes a piece and sets the basket down in front of Eliana. She peers in, gives a quick, sad glance to Lennox, and picks out the last piece of bread.

  “You enjoy,” Lennox says, waving it away.

  She tugs the crusty bread apart, the cheese holding on by a string as she places half on her brother’s plate. His grin lights up the room more than the candles.

  The trill of a ringing phone echoes from the front room, somewhere by the front bay window facing the water.

  “That’s me.” Morgan says apologetically, hopping up, and disappearing into the far end of the pitch-black room. “I’m so full!”

  I shove the forkful of pasta into my mouth and take a bite of the bread to go with it, my jeans tight against my stomach.

  John rests his fork on his plate and eyes his bread, glancing into the living room before fixing his gaze on me. “You stress eating again, Chels?”

  I swallow the last of my bite and press my lips together, staring at my empty dinner plate, my fourth piece of garlic bread still in hand.

  I guess I am.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  I feel their eyes on me, heat rising to my own cheeks. I lean back in my seat, wondering if I should have confided in them about my stress binging.

  John wipes his fingers on his napkin and lowers his voice. “I’m sorry, Chels. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned—"

  “It would have been my dad’s birthday today.” I pick apart my piece of bread, focusing on it as if it’s the last morsel of comfort I might have—until my next meal. “It would have been his sixtieth.”

  “Wow.” John nods, balling his napkin in his fist. “I remember when Murray would have turned thirty. It’s funny how those milestone birthdays make you think.” His gaze drifts to one of the candles until Morgan comes back in the room, phone in hand, and plunks down in her seat. John’s gaze finds her again, magnetized like it’s been the whole night.

  “Sorry,” Morgan mutters, setting the phone beside her plate. “What did I miss?”

  “Chelsea’s dad would have been sixty today,” Ellie says.

  Morgan gently grabs my arm and squeezes it with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I should have known that.”

  I shake my head and cover her hand with mine. “No, it’s not even important. I barely realized. I don’t know why it’s getting to me like this…”

  “Because even though he was a shitty father most of the time, you know it was the alcohol and trauma in his early life that made him that way.” Lennox lifts his glass of red wine, resting his elbow on the table. “You have empathy, but besides that, we can all still mourn what we didn’t get to experience with them—hell—even what your brother and your father didn’t get to experience themselves. Ellie knows,” he turns to her, “I talk about how Mom never got to see her thirtieth birthday.” He mutters “addiction” before taking a sip from his glass. “Brought us together, and for good reason. If we can’t talk about it with each other, who else will listen to this shit?”

  John lifts his beer bottle and nods to him. “Before you guys, all I had was Austin.” He stares across the table at the empty seat that Austin took when he made an appearance. “And you know he’s not much of a talker.” He and Lennox chuckle. “He listens though—when he’s around. Sometimes, that’s all we need.” He gives me a warm smile. “We’re here for you, Chels.”

  I smile and place my pieces of bread on the plate. “I know.”

  John stares down at the pieces and purses his lips, sighing. “I didn’t mean to make you stop…” His voice trails off as Morgan’s phone vibrates against the wooden table over and over.

  “It’s fine,” I tell John before leaning over to Morgan. “Is it him?”

  She nods. I want to take her phone and chuck it in the toilet. Maybe into Lake Ontario—it’s just across the street. Anywhere to protect her from the creep on the other line.

  “Dessert is later,” Lennox says, catching my attention as we lock eyes. “Right now, I feel like dancin
g.”

  I huff a laugh, trapping it in my mouth. I can’t stop studying him, trying to decide if he’s joking or not. “I didn’t know you danced.”

  “He doesn’t,” Ellie says. “He has no rhythm.”

  “She’s right.” Lennox laughs and sets his wine glass in front of him, still staring at me. His black dress shirt hangs off his slim frame, untucked and wrinkled in a charming sort of way. “Ellie got the co-ordination. Stole it all from me in the womb.” He pokes her side and she bursts out laughing, finally taking his focus off of me and onto her as he beams with pride at the reaction he caused.

  Morgan’s phone vibrates on the table again. John casts a glance at Morgan before resting his gaze on me. He called me last night, asking if she’d be coming this time. I told him she would, including the fact that she’d finally broken things off with her boyfriend. I knew what I was doing—giving him the greenlight to pursue her. He’d been interested since I introduced them almost a year ago. He might have even stopped pursuing her out of respect for our friendship if I’d asked him to—that’s just the kind of friend he is. I want Morgan to move on, and in truth, they’d make a great couple.

  John is everything Steve’s not.

  Steve has been best friends with my brother since elementary school. I never liked him. He’s pompous, obnoxious, cocky, cruel, and in relationships, it turns out he’s a controlling asshat to boot.

  John is down to earth, modest, and says he got his calm confidence from his late older brother, Murray. It separates him from anyone who awkwardly attempts to steal the spotlight, or own the room. John doesn’t compete with anyone but himself.