sakura
“You have fucking what?” Gunther asked.
“A head,” I squeaked, glancing around to make sure nobody else was lurking near the Overlook and watching us. After Vaughn had made his appearance, I didn’t quite trust him or anyone else to not watch us. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”
Gunther lowered his voice. “What do you mean, you have a head?”
I popped my trunk, retrieved the black duffel bag that now leaked blood, and set it on his lap. Gunther unzipped it and glanced inside the bag, eyes widening.
I paced in front of the car, running a hand through my hair. “What am I going to do?”
“Sakura,” Gunther said, “this is Jett Harleen’s head!”
“I know!” I whisper-yelled. “Help me get rid of it!”
“Did you do this?”
I threw my hands into the air. “Do you think I did this?”
After gazing back into the bag, Gunther pulled the head out and stood. He walked over to the sandy-grass and hobbled down a couple of rocks until he was knee deep in the raging water. Then, he chucked the head as far as he could.
“It’s not your problem now,” he said.
“What if it washes back up on shore?”
“It’s still not your problem,” he said. “You didn’t do this.”
“But I have his blood stained on my rug!” I whispered, moving closer. “I need help.”
He stumbled back over to the passenger side and slid onto the seat, leaning back and grasping his stomach where Callan had shot him. “Fuck, it hurts,” he grunted. “I need to pick up some pain meds.”
“I have some at my place,” I said.
“The strong shit, Sakura. Not Tylenol.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “I have some at my house. My mom … is an addict.”
Gunther glanced over at me, his features softening. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, shaking my head. Not many people knew about it, but I couldn’t care less right now. “But it doesn’t matter. If I get you some, will you help me … I don’t know … rip up my carpet and dispose of everything?”
He paused for a moment. “I’m not as good as Poison, but I can help you.”
“Good,” I said, jogging to the driver’s seat and starting the car. “Thank you.”
We sat in silence for ten minutes while I drove to my house. My fingers trembled around the steering wheel, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as realization settled in. I had just committed a crime.
Jett’s head had been in my fucking car! His head!
“Where did you get the head?” Gunther said, cutting through my thoughts.
“Callan,” I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter and pulling out my phone to check for messages from him. Still nothing. “He left a present in my bedroom earlier tonight, a pretty pink box with ribbon and everything, filled with his wife’s father’s head.”
“If he really loved you the way you say he does, he wouldn’t have given you a head.”
“He’s crazy,” I whispered. “He might have.”
“He might be crazy, but he’s not stupid.”
“He literally sent me a picture of the box on my bed,” I said. “He had to have.”
“Why would he put you in danger like that?”
“To teach me a lesson,” I said, turning onto my street. “After he shot you, we got into this huge fight. He mentioned something to Vaughn, wanting to sleep with other girls, and I lost it.”
Gunther hummed, “And you think he loves you?”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“Let’s say that it really was a misunderstanding and that he was trying to teach you a lesson,” Gunther reasoned. “He wouldn’t do this. And if he did, he wouldn’t be ignoring you right now. He’d answer your messages, or he’d have been there when you opened it.”
I parked. “So, who do you think did it if it wasn’t him?!”
“Vaughn,” he said without hesitation. “He found a way to get you alone and vulnerable.”
My entire body stiffened, fear shooting through me again. What if he was right? What if … what if Callan had given me a real present, but somehow, someway, Vaughn had switched it out with something else? I wouldn’t put it past him after he touched me in his office.
“Do you think something has happened to Callan?” I whispered, throat drying.
Gunther shrugged. “I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t give a shit what happens to him.” He glanced out the windshield at my house. “Didn’t think you lived in the nicer part of town, Sakura. Usually, druggies are in the slums.”
“My mom works at a pharmacy,” I said. “Come on. I’ll get you medicine.”
When we reached the front door, I took a deep breath. I didn’t know how I would explain this to Dad, but I had to come up with something fast. When I’d left him, he’d thought I just had the most explosive period ever. Now, I was home with a kid dressed in a hospital gown with blood all over his hands and a gunshot wound in his stomach.
Fuck.
Before I could even open the door, Dad pulled it open. I stepped forward.
“Dad, I can explain later, but I really need to get him medication. Some of Mom’s strong stuff,” I said, hurrying into the house and heading for Mom’s stash of drugs that she’d stolen from the pharmacy. “He just got out of the hospital, and they didn’t prescribe him medication.”
Dad arched a brow and followed us, crossing his arms and grimacing. “Sakura, stop lying to me,” he said sternly. “You’ve been lying to me for weeks now. You didn’t have your period earlier, did you? I saw you sneaking out of the house.”
My eyes widened. “Y-you did?”
Dad looked at Gunther. “Is this the boy you’ve been seeing?”
Gunther snorted. “I fucking wish.”
He fucking wishes?! What does that mean? That he likes me?!
“Then, who is he?” Dad asked me. “Because you can’t keep fucking doing this.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Dad never swore.
“Dad…” I whispered, handing Gunther the medication. “Gunther is one of my classmates. Someone shot him the other night. There is a sex ring going on in my school. And I’m fucking terrified.”