Sinister

Chapter Twenty-Two

Leighton sat up in bed, gasping for air and covered in a sheen of sweat. In her dream, Jack Norton had been chasing her through the forest, stumbling and ridiculous. She had run, her feet bare and scraped, until she broke the trees and into Rudd's shop. They had all been there, all the people she had seen die. They were lined along the shelves, still and covered in frost.

Leighton rubbed her fists into her eyes, biting down hard on her lip in an attempt to shake off the last tendrils of the nightmare. It wasn't until she was completely lucid that she saw them. Hundreds of black stones filled her room.

The stones lined her bookshelf, sat on her pillows, nested at the bottom of her closet. There was a line of stones along the bottom of a frame with a picture of Leighton and her mother, another collection of stones scattered along her windowsill. Almost every inch of her room was completely covered.

Leighton made a sound of surprise in the back of her throat. Her heart constricted and then took off sprinting, ready to leave her chest. She couldn't swallow or move. Something was wrong.

Killian was supposed to be on her side. He was supposed to be helping her and Tate find a way to save her soul. He wouldn't have marked her this many times. He wouldn't have marked her at all.

Leighton pushed her blanket off of her, cringing as rocks poured over the side of her bed and hit the ground. She swung her legs over the edge of her mattress, pushing aside rocks with her feet so she'd have somewhere to stand.

Leighton heard her door open and looked up sharply, expecting Karen but only finding Tate. His eyes swept over the room, his shoulders and face taught with tension. Finally, his eyes rested on her and stayed there.

"This wasn't Killian," he told her.

Leighton nodded, hysteria threatening to take over everything. "Who?"

It was only then that she noticed how ragged Tate looked. His eyes were red and swollen, his skin pale and sullen. His eyes, beautiful and tormented, were ringed with dark circles and sunken.

"Killian's gone," Tate informed her, "gone, taken, dead. I don't know but there's another marker now, Leighton. I felt the change last night and left to find out what happened. We have to leave." Leighton took a moment to process this information. Killian was gone. Tate's brother and their only ally was gone.

"Leave?" Leighton repeated dumbly, mind still trying to play catch-up. "Where?"

Tate shook his head, eyes once again taking in the amount of stones. "I don't know," he said, taking off his red baseball cap and wringing in his hands. He swore and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I thought―maybe there's a chance...I don't know."

Leighton's body felt heavy. She sat down on her bed, hair brushing against her ribcage. "I can't leave," Leighton mumbled, "I have to think about my mother."

"You have to think about your life," Tate urged. "Killian and I used to be friends with another Reaper pair. I don't remember them but Killian was telling me about them before... before he... left. I thought maybe they could help us, shelter us maybe... I don't know."

Leighton looked down at her hands, thinking of Braden's touch, her mother's touch, Tate's touch. "We can't run from this, Tate," she told him, mouth moving without her being mindful of its motion. "You can stop clocks but time keeps going."

Tate swore and left the room. Leighton waited for him, listening as he banged around her house, shuffling through her things in mad search of something. He resurfaced a few minutes later clutching a box of garbage bags.

He took one out and began collecting the stones, pushing them off her dresser with his forearm and into the awaiting bag. After a moment of watching Leighton forced herself to help, picking up random stones and adding them to the pile in her flipped shirt.

They both sat on the floor after the room was clean, Tate with his back to her bed and Leighton curled in on herself, finger tracing oddities in the flooring.

"I know you don't want to leave," Tate said, "I know it will be hard for you to leave Karen and Tom, but you have to, Leighton. You have to leave now or else we won't be able to save you. This is the only way, the only chance."

Leighton looked up at him, drinking in his determination and fear and love. She knew then that it didn't matter. Stay or go, it didn't matter. She wouldn't leave, she couldn't leave her home and family. Leaving meant uncertainty, it meant running and being chased, it meant strangers and chance. Leaving to chase Reapers Tate knew in another life wasn't a solution.

Staying meant the end, Leighton knew this for certain. It meant not only her end, but Tate's as well. Tate would disappear like his brother, reset or killed for disobeying. A new collector would come and finish the job he never started and Leighton would die.

Leighton took a deep breath, pushing back the tears that surfaced and swallowing the desperate cry that wanted to erupt from her throat. There was only one option for her now. Everything was clear.

"Alright," Leighton conceded, reaching out to touch Tate's hand. "We'll leave." Tate looked to her, smiling with so much hope that Leighton felt her stomach clench. He took her face gently between his hands and kissed her.

"Thank you," he murmured, eyes determined. He stood, pulling Leighton up with him and grabbed the suitcase from the top shelf of her closet, pulling it open and setting Leighton with the task of filling it.

Leighton moved to her closet, picking only her favourites. She folded her clothes with care, taking the time to remember where she had worn them, who she had been with, what she had done.

It seemed odd, packing a suitcase of things she would never use. Leighton packed anyway, not pausing until it was full of clothes and knick knacks, toiletries and keepsakes. She folded the lid over, closing the suitcase and brushing a tear from her cheek.

"Your mother's outside," Tate informed her, surprising her at the doorway to her room. "She's out there with Tom, bickering over the garden. I told her we were going away for the weekend, camping and hiking."

Leighton nodded, using the back of her hand to wipe the back of her nose and then straightening with a smile. "Let's go say goodbye." Tate took her suitcase and her hand, squeezing her in reassurance.

Leighton almost fell when she saw Karen. She was still in her scrubs, blonde hair twisted messily on the top of her head. Tom stood beside her as they both squinted at the garden, fighting over the placement of a HOME SWEET HOME sign.

"Mom," Leighton called out, voice even and cool. "Tate and I are going camping."

Karen looked to Leighton, pulling her hand away from Tom's arm and smiling. "I heard, I'm so glad you're going out, Leigh. I don't think you've been camping since you were a kid. I think you could benefit from the fresh air. "

Leighton smiled, her face felt like it was molded in stone. She moved towards her mother stiffly, wrapping her arms around Karen and squeezing hard. She fought to keep her breath even but panic was starting to creep in.

"I'm going to apply for college," Leighton told her, "I'm going to work with other girls like me." Leighton knew it wasn't fair to tell her mother this, to offer up dreams that would never be fulfilled but she couldn't help herself. She wanted her mother to be proud of her for a brief moment.

Karen pulled back, one hand reaching to cup Leighton's face. "Hun, I'm so glad to hear that. I think that's a great idea." Behind her, Tom smiled in encouragement.

Leighton didn't trust her voice so she just smiled and nodded, pulling her mother close once more and closing her eyes. She breathed in her mother's scent, memorizing the curious mixture of fruity perfume and the sterile smell of the hospital.

"I love you, mom," she croaked. "I'll see you later."

Karen sobered, hands pressing hard into Leighton's back. "I love you too, Leigh. Be safe. Be careful."

Leighton wasn't sure if she was going to be able to let go. She nestled her face into the crook of her mother's neck, remembering her mother's lectures and lullabies. She felt Tate's hand on her waist and tensed, knowing it was time to let go.

She did, stepping back and wiping a tear from her face. Leighton's smile shook along with her hands. Karen moved into Tom's side, unable to return the smile. A perplexed look sat on Karen's face, her alarm bells ringing. Leighton had to move now or else Karen would catch on, or else she'd never leave.

"Goodbye," she said, voice thin and watery. Tom threw Leighton the keys and she caught them, sending him one last smile before turning back to her mother. She held Karen's eyes as Tate propelled her forward, scouting the way for both of them.

She hesitated at the car door, watching her mother wrap her arms around her torso as though she were already feeling the pain of her loss. Tate's hand worried on the small of her back, voice whispering nothings she couldn't hold on to.

Leighton pulled her gaze away sharply, resolving herself. She slipped into her seat, ignoring her seatbelt as she turned the car on and felt it rumble to life. The trunk slammed as Tate loaded her suitcase before climbing into the passenger seat.

Karen and Tom waved as they left, sending them off with smiles and shouts of love. Leighton honked the horn in goodbye, driving around the corner of her street and out of sight. She felt Tate slip his hand into hers.

"This is the right thing," Tate assured her, "we're going to be okay."

She couldn't look at him. She nodded, her eyes on the road as she turned left. The streets were quiet. It was a Monday afternoon and everyone was either stuck at work or stuck inside. The weather was turning quickly, what little sun the morning offered was being swallowed up by the afternoon's clouds.

"Were you serious about college?" Tate asked.

Leighton nodded, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Yes." She took the next corner sharply, the tires squealing underneath her. "Are you going to look for Killian?" she asked Tate, voice raising as her throat tightened.

Tate looked at her strangely, one hand bracing the glove box. "We can look for him once your life is settled," he told her pointedly. Leighton pressed down hard on the gas pedal, rocketing through a yellow turned red. "There's no one on our tail, Leighton, you can take it easy."

She gritted her teeth. "I have to get out of this town," she told him. "You should look for your brother, Tate, he loves you a lot." Tate was silent. "And I love you a lot."

Tate nodded, frost beginning to spread over the floor of the vehicle. "I know you do, Leigh, I love you too." He drew in a ragged breath, eyes boring into the side of her face. "I love you more than I love anything, more than I've loved anyone."

Fissures opened up in Leighton's heart. She knew he meant it, she knew he felt it but she knew it wasn't the truth. Tate had loved others, countless others spanning over times and histories he couldn't remember.

A horn blared as Leighton ignored a stop sign. Tate swore. She was crying. "You helped me so much, Tate. I'm a different person now, a better person. I need to thank you for everything you did for me."

Tate's voice was squeezed with panic. "I didn't do anything, Leighton. It was all you." He turned his body so he was facing her directly. "Maybe we should pull over, Leigh, do you want to talk this out?"

Leighton shook her head, pushing away her hair and gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I don't want anyone to miss me," she said, "I want to disappear." Rain splashed down on the windshield but Leighton didn't bother with the wipers. Let it all wash away, let it all be gone.

"Leighton what are you―"

"Don't miss me," she whispered, pressing down on the gas pedal. Tate whipped around, looking where she was for the first time. The car was speeding towards a dead end, a ditch just before the forest.

"Leighton!"

Leighton turned at the last moment, letting go of the steering wheel and turning to face Tate. She blinked away tears, clearing her vision for the final moments. He was yelling but she didn't hear. His eyes alternated between the upcoming collision and her face.

He reached for the steering wheel and yanked it, throwing Leighton back into her window and dislodging her shoulder from its socket. The car collided with a road sign and then broke through the wooden fence just before the end of the road. Tate swore as everything was torn apart.

The car pitched forward into the ditch, a lone branch impaling the front windshield as the front of the car folded like an accordion. Leighton was thrown against the steering wheel, and then further over the dash and into the glass.

Her nose crunched as her forehead split open. She felt her arm break as she tried to brace herself, hurting more than helping. Her airbag exploded against her chest, blasting her ribs backwards into her spine and throwing the rest of her body back into her seat. Her head snapped backwards, neck straining to support her.

The car hung for a moment, end up, before tipping on its side. Leighton's window exploded, glass sinking into her muscles and tearing apart her flesh. She threw her broken arms outwards, trying to protect herself.

She lay on the broken window, grass ticking her bare skin. She coughed once and dark, thick blood bubbled from her lips. Ears ringing, Leighton tried to focus her vision. Tate's face was angled towards her own, his eyes wide, his mouth moving rapidly. He was hanging from his seatbelt, the branch preventing him from reaching out to her.

Leighton's head was whirling, blood rushing from her heart and leaving through her skin. Her chest felt caved inwards, her head was split and her arms and legs were numb. Everything was bright and vivid, as though her senses were over performing for the finale.

Leighton rolled herself over, groaning with the effort it took to move. The ringing in her ears was beginning to dull and other sounds were coming back to her. Her seatbelt reminder was dinging, the radio was on and picking up some old rock song she couldn't place, rain was pelting the car.

Tate was screaming. "Leighton! Leighton! FUCK! Leighton!"

She blinked, dazed and sluggish. She reached for him, arm tingling with the absence of feeling. Tate's fingers squeezed hers and then he let go. Somehow, he had managed to free himself from his seatbelt and was working his way around the branch that separated them.

"Don't move," he yelled frantically, "don't move! It's okay, it's okay! Don't move at all!"

She nodded, watching him descend towards her, looking like an angel descending from heaven. The closer he got, the more she saw his flaws. His skin was battered, his hair matted with blood that covered his right temple and jaw. He was hurt. He wasn't an angel, he was a Reaper.

His cool hands finally reached her, worrying over the worst of her injuries and casting a web of frost over his skin. His touch was soothing but not healing. Leighton coughed again, struggling to bring up a clot of blood.

"Fuck," he swore, voice shaking with tears. "What were you doing?"

"Now," Leighton whispered.

Tate didn't hear her. He was crouched beside her, eyes cast upwards as he searched for a way to get her out. "It's okay," he repeated, "everything's going to be okay." Tate's hands started to shake and then his shoulders were shaking too. "I'm going to get you out, you're okay, you're okay."

Tate looked down at her, eyes filled with tears as he smoothed his hand over her hair, her face, her neck. "Hang in there, Leighton, you're okay. You're strong. You've been through worse, you're okay. I'm going to get you to your mother, she'll know how to help, she h-helps people all the time."

"Now," Leighton begged, eyes pleading.

Tate rocked back on his heels and then fell slightly, bracing himself against the frame of the car as he sunk closer to her. "No Leigh, this isn't the time for you. You're okay, it's not that bad, it's not... you're okay. I'm okay. We're going to be okay." Tate was nearly hysterical, his eyes puffy and his mannerisms panicked.

Pain flared as Tate pressed his hands over her wounds, trying to staunch the blood and assess the damage. She felt his cool fingers at her shoulder, worrying over her chest, pressing against the gash on her forehead.

Leighton started as her breath stopped. She made a low sound in her throat, struggling to get air into her lungs through her crushed nose. Tate swore and slipped his hands under her back, lifting her up and bracing her against the steering wheel in an effort to clear her airways.

Every breath Leighton took was wet and rattling. "I'm in pain."

Tate eyes wouldn't close, they were open with horror and grief and dread. "I know you are, I know. It'll be okay, Leighton. We'll get you help and you'll get better. I'm going to get you to a doctor and they'll fix you and I'll take you home to your mother and Tom."

Leighton felt as though her other lung had collapsed. Her mother would hear about this accident, would see her broken body as she was wheeled into the emergency room. It was a thought she couldn't handle. "Now, Tate, please you have to―" She broke off, blood bubbling up and spilling over her lips, dropping heavily onto her chest. Leighton cried out.

Tate was hysterical. "Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you do this to me?"

Leighton tried to make her fingers work, tried to grab his hand. "It was the only choice," she whispered, wincing. "It was the only way."

Tate pulled his hands away from her savagely, drawing in a ragged breath and glaring at her. "It wasn't the only way! We were going to figure it out, I was going to protect you!"

Leighton fought the pain, fought the numbness, fought the dread and grabbed his hand. "You have to do it now, Tate, you have to." Leighton smoothed out his fingers and placed them flat against her chest. Tate shook his head, too overcome to speak. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else. It'll be a stranger who doesn't know me, who doesn't love me."

"Leighton..." he begged, "please."

She gripped his hand tighter. "I need it to be you," she told him, breath hitching as she fought to keep air in her body. Her chest was tight and off balance.

"You need a hospital," Tate gasped desperately, eyes once again appraising her injuries.

"I need to die," she told him softly. Her chest pinched. She reached out and grazed his skin, running her fingers over the crook of his elbow where her soul had once sat. "I'll be with you."

"Leighton―I can't." Tate pulled his hands away from her, raising them. They shone dimly, covered in her blood.

Leighton grabbed them again. "Help me."

Tate stared at her. A million things passed in his eyes; a million years, a million emotions, a million thoughts. But there was only one option.

Tate moved slowly, dread woven through his muscles as he lifted his arms and flexed his hands. Leighton reached up and cradled his face with her hands, content that his eyes would be the last she saw.

Tate's whole being illuminated. "Relax," he whispered.

Leighton felt her chest draw upwards as the light started to creep out of her skin, twisting as it funneled towards Tate's outstretched hands, crawling away from her body and spreading up the sides of the vehicle.

Leighton saw everything. She saw her earliest memories, the ones that had been buried by time. She saw her parents faces, decades younger. She saw the mobile above her crib, her first steps, her parents cheering.

Leighton saw her childhood, saw herself playing with the neighbour's kids, crawling into her parent's bed, running after a flock of seagulls. She saw herself meeting Braden, saw herself falling in love, saw herself hurt.

Her father left next, taking their stability with him. She saw her mother cry through the crack in the door. She saw herself after Braden's funeral, sitting on her bed as she tried to battle relief and sadness and guilt.

She saw the gray period, the time where life was nothing but necessary. She saw herself line pills up on the counter, watched herself throw them to the ground. Leighton watched prom again, watched herself curl her fingers into her palms and sway alone to the music.

She saw Tate, hunched over Jack Norton and calm beside the women with the frozen flowers. She watched him cook her breakfast, watched him fight his brother, watched him cry and laugh and watched him kiss her.

She watched the car crash again, watched her body fold against the windshield, watched Tate's horror as she broke. She watched her soul leaving her body, watched her hands twitch as they fought to hold onto life, watched her fingers still as she lost the fight.

Leighton chest rocketed upwards as the last of her soul was pulled from her body. She let go of her last breath, feeling herself deflate as her vision dulled to black.

It wasn't how she'd thought it would be.

It wasn't bright or intense, gentle or inviting, it was just there, as was she.

Both herself and the door hovered, humming slightly in the space between being and oblivion.

The only light in the room seeped under the door, washing the floor in a silver glow that pebbled her skin.

There was no feeling attached to the door, no overwhelming emotion, it was just a void.

She couldn't help but think that was the point.

Leighton Connors was dying. Dead? She wasn't sure about the tense.

But dying or dead her time on earth was over.

She stepped through the door.