3

Rae

October 20th, 2019

Oh, fuck.

God, whoever said getting wasted like that was a good idea could go kick rocks in bare feet.

I groaned, grabbing my head as I rolled onto my back. My hair was a tangled mess, my mouth tasted like salt and berries, my neck hurt, and I felt unbelievably sticky.

Impossible sticky.

Why was I so sticky?

God, I felt like I was dying.

My phone started screaming at me like a goat who’s only goal in life was to irritate the shit out of me. With a loud groan, I felt around my bed until my hand slapped right on top of the device. I wrapped my fingers around it and threw it across the room, uncaring if it shattered. I wasn’t one to waste money, but fuck it, I couldn’t sit here and endure that racket, not this early in the morning.

It went silent and I relaxed back into bed. Just a few more hours of sticky sleep and then I would—

My entire body went rigid when the sound attacked my overstimulated eardrums with a vengeance. God, fuck Viv for encouraging me to pick a song ringtone. Who wanted to hear Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls screaming at you after a night like last night?

Not me.

Definitely not me.

I groaned again, throwing my pillow at it with an embarrassingly weak arm.

My eyes opened slowly, glued together by sleep and the expensive mascara that was advertised to survive through a tsunami of rain, sweat, and body glitter. That was, in fact, a lie. Would I switch brands? No. I loved this brand, I just partied too hard last night.

Thanks Viv.

The phone went silent and then started blaring again almost instantly.

Fine, I’ll get up. Fuck.

Newly 26 and I couldn’t even sleep in? Fuck the universe for forcing me to do this. And fuck drunk me for not shutting off my goddamn cellphone.

With a huff and a puff, I forced myself out of bed, wincing as the leather dress I stuffed myself into last night pulled angrily at my too raw skin. A mistake, honestly, but after taking MDMA before getting dressed last night, I thought it had been the best idea.

I had looked really hot, but Jesus, was it worth it?

Yeah, fuck that. It was 100 percent worth it. But no more pregaming. Ever.

Who was I kidding, I’d pregame again if Viv asked me to.

Ignoring my phone, I headed straight for my bathroom instead. First shower then phone. The world wouldn’t end because I ignored my phone for an hour.

I peeled the second layer of skin off me and inspected the new raw spots that would definitely need a good, deep conditioning, before I stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water soothe away the aches and pains of a night of dancing and drinking.

By the feeling of it, I didn’t fuck anyone last night, which was frustrating to say the least. I know the whole ‘don’t take advantage of a drunk girl’ was important and greatly undervalued by a lot of men in this world, but I honestly wouldn’t have minded. Whatever that said about me, I didn’t care, not right now.

I was overly desperate for that kind of male attention, but it was better this way. Viv saved me from the creeps of Various and I was grateful to her for doing that, I truly was. My toxicity was just that; toxic. And anyway, I wanted to remember who I had sex with just in case something like pregnancy or an STD surprised me.

I glanced down at my body, mainly because I didn’t have the strength to hold up my head yet and thought back to how I had looked last night in the mirror. A smile touched my lips. I had looked drop dead gorgeous, there was no way I hadn’t gotten some attention, even if that attention didn’t lead to anything fun.

I chalked it up to a best friend being a best friend and moved on with my life.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood underneath that scalding water before I finally began my carefully thought out and perfected routine.

I loved it. I loved my routine, the depth in which I was able to take care of myself. I loved looking good, feeling good. I loved the way eyes lingered on me when I walked by. It made me feel good. It made me feel seen. It was worth it most days.

I loved taking care of myself. Finding the best hair styles, the best clothes that fit my curves, the best jewelry, makeup. Everything. It was like a science. My body was a canvas, the world was my paint, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life living to my full potential.

An hour later, I was finally walking out, more or less refreshed and ready for a day of horror movies and research.

I pulled on an oversized tee over nothing but a black thong and made my way through my suite. Coffee, coffee, coffee, it’s all I could think about.

Coffee.

It was midday. I had slept in, but not that much, so nobody could accuse me of being lazy. When I hit 0, I knew that these late nights and just as late days would have to ease, so I wanted to live it up before then. Three more years of going hard before easing into life and trying to figure out what it was I wanted to do with the rest of it.

While the coffee brewed, I turned on Ghost Adventures. I liked having it on as something to listen to while I went about life. People claimed watching too much of that shit would desensitize a person, but I saw no desensitization. In fact, I felt more jumpy after years of drowning in horror than I had before I got into that world.

Did it deter me? No. I loved that shit, and I would continue to watch it and read it until the day I met my inevitable end.

I swallowed some aspirin and finally went to retrieve my phone. I wanted to turn it off and never hear it again. I didn’t have many friends due to my upbringing, so the only time my phone went off was either because of my Instagram or because Max was trying to get ahold of me.

While I loved one, I hated the other with a passion.

Lo and behold when I picked up my phone, I had plenty of missed texts and calls, along with a handful of notifications from Instagram.

The profile was under a false name because my real profile had been hacked and taken down by Max. Luckily, I had millions of faithful followers who found me despite the fact that I hadn’t led them to my new profile. Call me self-absorbed, but I liked the attention, no matter how shallow it was, it was nice when people saw me.

Although certain eyes made me queasy. For instance, Max.

He was a dick and absolutely controlling, and I did my best to keep him at a distance, yet he persisted. I was handling it for now, but I could feel the catalyst coming. If he didn’t listen to me and back off, I would have no other choice but to get a restraining order, which wasn’t something I wanted to do to my only family, but he was leaving me no choice at this point.

I skimmed through the texts. Most of them were from an angry Max because I didn’t tell him that I would be out for my birthday. Something I felt I shouldn’t have to tell someone who just walked into my life seven months ago. I didn’t know what his problem was, but I had to give him a little grace. Just a little.

He had never met Marla. She had given him up at birth, having never wanted a son, only to find out too late that she had died. I could understand why he was acting the way he was, clingy and ‘protective’ as he put it, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle it peacefully.

Viv, my only friend, was fun, but she lived in another city, only here every so often to visit or for business. She believed Max was obsessed with me in the creepiest way, especially for being a half-brother, but I ignored her warnings. He didn’t have a good life, I had to give him a real chance.

Although the ending of that chance was coming really quick.

After pouring my cup of coffee, I headed back for the living room and sank to the ground between my couch and coffee table where my paperwork was spread out.

Eight months ago, my mom was murdered. The cops left me a message yesterday morning claiming that they were putting it away for now due to there being no leads, so I promptly had everything shipped to my house so I could look through it myself.

Money could get you a lot, almost anything. It was a miracle, honestly.

Although Captain Bard was less than pleased over the stink I caused trying to get everything yesterday morning, but I truly didn’t care. Over the last eight months, he had coined me as an irritated, cock-hungry blonde who couldn’t let the police do their job. He had made plenty of innuendos about how the task force would move quicker if they had some ‘incentives’. I had done my best to ignore them, but it was a double-edged sword now. I hated that they had given up on this, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Then again, I had found dozens of little notes within the files while looking over them yesterday before the party that proved he still wanted me to suck his cock for information. I think I had gotten them all, thrown them all away, but there was always a chance I had missed one.

I wasn’t sure if he had actually kept things from me or not, all I could do was dive into the research they had provided and hope it was enough to give me something.

I hoped it was enough. I was no ‘seasoned officer’ but I was desperate for answers, and sometimes desperation was better than experience.

There had been no body, no blood, no fingerprints, no hairs, no evidence of any kind. The alley was empty of everything but a pool of her blood. Enough to make them immediately rule it a homicide.

It seemed like an impossible case, but I didn’t care. I didn’t. I was going to find whoever did this and I was going to get them thrown into prison for the rest of their life, no matter the cost.

The only problem was that I knew very little about her. Almost nothing at all.

I had been raised by my nanny, Donna, who taught me everything there was to know about life, while my mom traveled the world, buying and selling art, creating an empire for her child—children—to live in. The relationship we had was nonexistent, but I still loved her, and I respected her, and her murderer wouldn’t get away with this.

Calling Donna would have been first on my list, but the week after the murder she left, disappearing from my life as quickly as my mom had. I thought it suspicious, but whatever excuse she had given the police upon interrogation had been enough to drop her from the case. Who was I to comment on the early work of the investigation? If they ruled her out, I had no reason to think she did anything besides assume I wouldn’t want her around after mom died.

I hated that, but I understood it too.

On the day of my mother’s memorial, three weeks after the case was filed, a man showed up with papers, claiming to by my half-brother. The proof was undeniable, but it only led to more questions. Mom had another child? Why had she never mentioned that to me? Where had he been all these years? Was he behind her murder?

I tried to build a relationship with him just in case I could get him to answer some questions, but after a month, things started getting strange, so I tried to distance myself, which is when the obsession began.

Harmless, but Viv was right, he was creepy. He showed up whenever I went out, which was one of the reasons I tried to stay in as often as possible, that and I really wasn’t an ‘outside’ person. He stalked me on social media, leading me to delete everything and start up a new Instagram. He tried to control what I did and where I went, always wanting me to check in as if we were in some sort of relationship. I hated it, but he was the only family I had left so trying to keep him at arms-length until this calmed down was my best option if I wanted him to remain in my life.

So, here I was, hungover after my 26th birthday, doing what the cops failed to do. I would find her killer. I would. If it took me the rest of my life and all of the money she had left me, I would find them.

I turned my phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and got to work.

After a few hours, I was feeling stiff, hungry, and exhausted. I needed some real food, some better coffee, and some fresh air. A quick trip to the coffee shop down the street and I would feel good as new, I was sure of it. Max wouldn’t find me if I kept it quick.

I changed into something more appropriate for the outside world. A pair of dark colored, acid washed, straight-legged denim jeans with a few large holes in them, over a pair of black fishnets, and an over-sized wool-knit light tan sweater, one corner tucked into the high-waisted jeans.

I pulled my hair half back with a low big black bow, pulled on a pair of black booties and a white knit beanie before grabbing my purse and heading for the door.

I slid in my headphones, putting on my favorite playlist as I stepped into the chilling October air. I loved Fall. I loved the fashion, the colors, but most of all, I loved Halloween.

I loved the fear that came with the paranormal. I loved the adrenaline rush, I loved the high of it. I loved the thrill. I loved the idea that ghosts wandered this world, watching us in our darkest moments. I loved the idea of something from beyond terrorizing houses, asylums, hospitals. It was addicting, the high. The chill drifting over my skin, the goosebumps, the tingling spine. Fuck, I loved it all.

I once confided with Viv that sometimes it turned me on, it made me want to do nasty things, that sometimes I fantasized about ghosts getting me off in the middle of the night or other dark things, and she gave me this look of pure disgust. That was the last time I ever told her about the fantasies in my head. She didn’t understand it and that was fine, I didn’t expect or need her too.

I had done my fair share of research into paranormal kinks. I even had a collection of books of monsters and poltergeists doing unnatural things to the living. It wasn’t wrong, it was just different.

Different was good sometimes.

The only time it was wrong was when you shared it with someone. So, I would never share it with anyone ever again. My special-order monster toys were mine and mine alone. I could have my fun with whomever I decided to take home that night, and nobody needed to know that when I was alone, I had a different kind of fun.

Speaking of fun, this month there was a carnival in town, the same one that came every year around Halloween. Cirque Du Amour. Viv swore she would never go, and I did my duty every year by begging her to go anyway because I knew it would be fun. It wasn’t as terrifying as she made it out to be, in fact, there were plenty of parents who brought their kids, and I didn’t want to ever go alone, even though that’s always how it ended up.

But this year she had finally agreed to go with me, and I couldn’t wait! We were going to have so much fun. I got us tickets for the 28th and I had already picked out my costume. I was so excited that I could barely contain myself.

Max had his own opinions on my obsessions though, almost ruining everything about Halloween for me. He thought it was sick and twisted that I was enraptured with all things horror especially since my mom had only just been murdered by a stranger in an alley, but this was how I had always been. Besides, my belief could lead to other things. What if mom had stuck around, her spirit drifting around this world, checking in on me every so often. The thought brought an immense amount of comfort, and I’d hold onto it no matter what anyone thought, especially someone like Max.

I rolled my shoulders just as the sound of a motorcycle revving flew past me.

A smile touched my lips as I watched after the male dressed in all black, his bike blacked out. I wondered what that high felt like.

Maybe I should get myself a motorcycle.

I rolled my eyes. God, I felt as if I were chasing a high I would never be able to catch. A high I wasn’t sure even existed. I had felt like something was missing from my life every single day since my mom was reported dead.

It wasn’t her, of that I was sure, but it was something. As if something had been stolen from me and I hadn’t figured it out yet.

Maybe those answers would come with me solving her case, but until then, all I needed was a coffee break and a sandwich.