4. Edward Ned Langston

Seth

My fingers felt cold against his skin. I could hear my heart slamming violently against my chest, my head swelling with the blood that threatened to burst out of my ears.

“No, no, no” I mumbled in terror as I pressed two cold fingers to the side of his neck searching for a pulse. That was where the pulse was, right? Fuck! How do I do CPR, what do I do? My hands quivered as I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

I clammed on my fingernails, silencing my clattering teeth as I told them what happened and described where I was before ending the call. I couldn’t stay here, what if they thought I killed him? I didn’t poison him or anything, fuck was I going to jail?

My eyes prickled with tears as I pulled my clothes and gathered my items from the room. I stood by the door, waiting for a few seconds, maybe this was all a game, a prank. The tear slipped from my eyes when his chest didn’t swell like it hadn’t for the past minutes.

I walked briskly into the elevator and pushed the button toward the ground floor.

Act natural, be cool. I repeated the words to myself as the insipid elevator music threatened to drown the thoughts out of my head. If I didn’t fucking act natural, there was no way I would make it past the lobby. His guards would suspect that something was wrong.

The elevator dinged loudly, revealing the busy lobby. I snapped around, sighting the men clad in suit like they were ripped out from a spy movie. I exhaled and walked out, forcing a smile on my face. I could feel the heat of their gaze on my gaze, my steps faltered just a bit, but I regained composure and walked out of the hotel.

The frigid air nibbled at my skin, drawing tears from my eyes as I broke into a sprint. I needed the distance between me and the hotel as soon as possible. As I rounded the corner, the silent night was pierced by the whines of the sirens before the dance of red and blues flooded the street. I dove behind a dumpster, my stomach churning as the feeling bubbled and rose through my throat till I was puking the contents on the cobblestones.

I slammed the door shut as soon as I was within the comfort of my building and locked it.

You just fucking killed a man! The voice in my head rang.

It wasn’t me, I…I didn’t do anything to him!

‘You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail, at least that way you will be useful to the men in prison, satisfy their cravings like the slut that you are.’

Shut up!

I slammed my body into the wall, digging at the tufts of my hair. I needed the pain, the distraction. I needed something strong. The thoughts guided me as I ripped the bottle of vodka from underneath my bed, tore the cap open and took a large swig from the bottle.

My phone dinged and I pulled it out. It was a gossip blog? No, no, he has already been confirmed dead. Cardiac arrest? I scrolled the post, catching the comments under it.

He was a good man.

Cardiac arrest? He was too fit for a man his age, I call bullshit. He was murdered. My heart skipped a beat.

OMG, he placed me on a scholarship…

No single bad comment about him. I took a huge swig, dumping my phone on the ground before sliding down with it.

***

My eyes flickered and it caught the harsh glare of the morning sun. I shifted, wincing as my head drummed loudly. My ears rung, it felt like rush hour in my head. My eyes fluttered once more as I registered the sound of the banging on the door.

What the fuck is that? I closed my eyes, ignoring the sound. It came again, louder. Who could be knocking this ear…

My eyes snapped open, the headache that almost split my head in half was now forgotten. The memories of the previous night flooded like a tidal wave. I had killed a man. I killed Edward. That was the police!

My heart joined the parade, accompanying the loudness in my head. I pushed myself to my feet, staggering a bit as I tried to take in where everything was. What was I going to do? Running would make me guilt as fuck…was I guilty?

No! I didn’t kill him…

‘It was…you! You fucking killed him. You can run but you can’t hide!’

The voice was back. I quickly spied the half empty vodka bottle that lay beside a bag of chips on the floor. I stumbled forward, grabbing the wall for support.

“Seth? Open up, it’s me.”

August? I rushed and yanked the door open without thinking. My eyes watered as I saw him standing before, I sprung into his arms, pulling him into the room and slamming him against the door.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” August rubbed my back as he apologized. I needed the hug, I needed a familiar face to make me feel like everything would be fine even though I was sure that nothing would be fine.

“I should be apologizing,” I said, sinking my face into his neck.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have walked out on you yesterday,” he breathed deeply, pulling me closer to him. There was something off about him, he was more withdrawn.

I peeled myself off him.

“I had to come because I thought you didn’t want to pick my calls. I don’t blame you, I was an asshole. For you not to be in class with that…” he pointed to the bottle.

Calls? I shuffled toward the ground and flicked my phone one. My eyes bulged in shock, “twenty-six times? Fuck.”

“I’m-” he raised his hand and shook his head. His eyes had the tint of sadness, something was wrong. My body went instantly cold. Did he know? Had the police contacted him? Fuck, was he here with them? I felt the urge to bolt, to run and never look back.

“The media…they have been dogpiling my family for the last twenty-four hours,” he said as he pulled me to the bed. The anxiety withered.

“Why?”

He took a sharp breath, "My uncle, he’s dead.”

That cold hand trickles along my spine, goosebumps left in the traces of where warmth should be. My throat was clogged, the words choked on the base but I forced it out.

“Your Uncle?” I croaked. He nodded, not taking the bait. I swallowed, “what’s his name?”

“Edward. Edward Ned Langston.”