King

KING erin trejo Copyright © 2023 by erin trejo All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum Contents Chapter 1KingChapter 2LillyChapter 3KingChapter 4LillyChapter 5KingChapter 6LillyChapter 7KingChapter 8LillyChapter 9KingChapter 10LillyChapter 11KingChapter 12LillyChapter 13KingChapter 14LillyChapter 15KingChapter 16LillyChapter 17KingChapter 18LillyChapter 19KingChapter 20LillyChapter 21KingChapter 22LillyChapter 23KingChapter 24LillyChapter 25KingChapter 26LillyChapter 27KingChapter 28LillyChapter 29KingChapter 30Lilly Chapter 1King The sound of screeching, twisting metal is loud. It’s all I can hear, although I can’t see a thing. Twisted metal cages me in as I blink my eyes, warm crimson trickling down my face. I can feel the gash on my face, but I don’t dare reach up and touch it. Once the screeching comes to a halt, there’s nothing but silence and the ringing in my ears. There are no other sounds even though I know there was another car. I try to wiggle my way free, but there’s no use. There’s nothing I can do. I’m trapped. I open my mouth to call for help, but my throat is dry and feels raw, yet I do it anyway. “Help,” the sound comes out pained, and that’s when I smell it. Gas. I jolt awake, my hand going immediately to my body to check for signs of trauma. When I’m satisfied there isn’t any, I let my body relax back into my pillow beneath me, releasing a sigh of relief. Then I pull my phone out of the drawer next to the bed and send a quick message. Me: Hey Her: Couldn’t sleep? Me: Nightmare Her: Same thing? Me: Yeah Her: I have nightmares a lot too. Always the same thing. Wanna talk about it? I scrub my hand over my face before tossing the phone back into the drawer. There’s no way I can talk about it with her. No way at all. Instead, I roll over and curl into myself, clenching my eyes closed. I hate when the dreams come. Nothing can change the past. Nothing can change that fateful night. I keep my eyes clenched shut as the memories assault me. They always do, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. They haunt me, and they will continue to do so for the rest of my life. When sleep never returns, I climb out of bed and pull on my sweatpants and tennis shoes. I opt to Chapter 2Lilly Lilly. Like the fucking flower, delicate and in need of care. That’s how they all look at me, my parents, that is. They think I’m going to break. They think I’m going to fall apart, but I’m not. You see, I know the truth. Kingston Matthews killed my sister. He was drunk and drove right into us. I’m told I have survivor's guilt, but I call bullshit. I just have guilt in general. I shouldn’t hate him the way I do. I shouldn’t care about him the way I do either. He’s my enemy, not a friend. He’s the guy who makes things intolerable at school. The one who calls on his minions to make my life hell. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t it be me making his life hell? I brush my hair and pull it up into a high ponytail before checking myself in the mirror. Long blonde hair, blue eyes. I look exactly like her. Most people would mistake us for twins; we were that close. But where she was outgoing and had tons of friends, I’m the shy, quiet type. Sure, I’ll act up from afar but never in anyone’s face. When I’m satisfied that I look the complete opposite of my sister, I head downstairs and into the kitchen. “Hey, Lilly.” Pleasantries. That’s what our lives have come down to. They don’t care about me. I wasn’t the prized child; my sister was. No one can compare to Annie. She was everything I’m not, everything they wanted. I’m everything they despise. “Hey.” “You could sound a little nicer. Your mother is trying here,” my dad snaps at me, and I internally cringe, watching for the blow that usually comes, only it doesn’t. I look up just in time to see the plate spinning my way. I raise my hand, ready to block it, but I’m too slow. “I hate you,” my brother seethes as the plate slams into my eye. I screech through the pain before