Page 11 of Kill Feed

I am haunted by the split thought of being fortunate or cursed. In other words, did I simply get lucky, or is the real danger waiting for me?

Xavier was officially declared missing by Tuesday.

That word feels like a joke. ‘Missing’ implies the universe misplaced him under a couch cushion. But I know where he is, or was. I push off the wall and cut through the water again, long strokes paired with steady kicks.

Uni carried on as though nothing had happened. Whatever traces remained had been scrubbed clean, because nothing came of it.

No body. No camera recordings. No leads. Nothing.

Just absence, polished and disinfected.

So sick, in fact, that I refused to let Amani and Lucas visit, but that's only due to the fucking bruises that asshole psycho left along my cheeks. Blunt force trauma did a number on them. Capillaries rupturing beneath the skin, blood pooling where fingers dug in harshly. First angry red, then deepening into purple and blue within twenty-four hours. By day three, they turned yellow at the edges, sickly and unmistakable. The bruises were impossible to explain without inviting questions I can’t afford.

Thank fuck they are gone now.

I had to think fast and give myself something believable, something that wouldn’t fall apart if the police came knocking. A fever was easy enough. Harmless, ordinary, and difficult to disprove.

I’d already told Amani I felt sick that night, so I went from there. So ill, in fact, that I couldn’t go out looking for Xavier and instead passed out early, sleeping through the rest of her calls, buried beneath too many blankets and shivering with fever. I stayed home all week, skipping Uni entirely.

I reach the far end and grab the edge. Water streams down my temples and drips from my lashes before I dip under again. I push into a butterfly stroke, arms slicing wide and brutally fast with absolutely no grace. I force my thoughts into submission but fail miserably.

I just don’t fucking understand it.

Xavier’s murder could’ve easily been pinned on me. Practically gift-wrapped. I was there. I was soaked in his blood, shoes stained, hands slick and plastered with his DNA. I tracked it all the way home, little invisible footprints only I could see. Any cop worth their badge could’ve followed that trail straight to my bathroom drain.

But nothing happened.

Xavier’s death was covered up.

My lungs start to scream. I hit the wall hard, fingers slapping tile, and surge up for air. I rake water off my face with both hands, rough and violent, like I’m trying to scrub the thought out of my skull.

“Long time, no see.”

The sound hits me, and I jerk my head up, heart stuttering so damn fast I swear it creates ripples in the swimming pool. Lucas is crouched on the diving podium, elbows on his knees with a towel dangling from one hand.

“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my wet hair.

He leans closer and tosses the towel toward me. I grab it with one hand before it hits the water.

“You look like you’re trying to drown.” Maybe because I fucking am, but I don’t tell him that.

Instead, I say, “I’m just trying to get my laps in after missing a week of swimming.” I lie, because I’ve been here all week.

I angle my mouth into something like a smile. It feels stapled on, but it has to do for now. I toss the towel back to Lucas before pushing myself out of the swimming pool.

The gym floor feels rough under my feet as we move towards the locker room. I grab my water bottle as we enter, taking long gulps before placing it down on the bench. Lucas leans back against a column, casual as sin. “You training for the Olympics or what? That was some session.”

“I’m just trying to get back into routine, that’s all,” I say casually. “You know, after being sick and all...” I turn my back to him, opening the locker, pulling out dry clothes, and getting dressed after pulling off the tight black and blue swimming trunks and drying off. All while Lucas stands there zoning out on the opposite wall, quiet for the first time in his life.

“People keep asking about him,” he finally says, breaking the silence like it’s nothing. “Xavier, I mean. The group I hang out with at work keeps bringing it up.”

I swallow, staying quiet as I shove my things into the gym bag.

I’ve been somewhat comforting both Lucas and Amani the whole week to keep up the facade. Even Xavier’s parents reached out. Luckily, they didn’t make a habit of it.

“Ryan said he must’ve skipped town or whatever. Which, honestly, I hope is the case. We’re best friends and all, but he’s always been a pretty private guy. That’s better than the latter, I guess…”

My ears perk despite myself. Lucas isn’t one to open up despite being so close to Xavier, and I can hear in the cadence of his voice and the slight tremor in his tone that he desperately needs a shoulder to cry on.