Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)
Drop Dead Gorgeous: Part 4 – Chapter 33

We squealed away from the curb. I didn’t remember if we closed the shop door or not.

I let Morgan drive. I felt too insane to get behind the wheel, the life force pumping through my body, the life force from Lonny’s blood. I felt crazy and giddy and dizzy, far beyond being drunk. I wanted to sing and scream and dance and fly.

I felt as if I was floating outside my own skin.

I had washed the blood off my face in the little sink in the back. But the front of my clothes was stained dark. And somehow, I could feel the thick liquid clotting in my hair.

Morgan had her eyes straight ahead on the road. She gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, like an old person driving. Her lips were pressed tightly together. She didn’t say a word until the tattoo parlor was several blocks behind us.

“Slow down,” I said. “You’re going eighty.”

A hoarse cry escaped her throat. “You killed him, Morgan. You killed Lonny!”

“I couldn’t help it,” I said. “I just . . . couldn’t stop.”

“Look at you,” she said. “Covered in blood. You killed him. You killed Lonny.”

I was floating. So happy. Ecstatic. I’d never felt this way before. I wasn’t going to let her bring me down.

“I couldn’t help it,” I said. “I . . . I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even think. I just . . . I just had to do it. I was as shocked as you. Really.”

“You . . . you were like an animal, devouring your prey.”

I thought about it. I tried to feel a little bit guilty. But I couldn’t.

“I’m a Fear, Morgan. I’m not like other people.”

We drove in silence for a long moment. I could see that Morgan was trembling. Her whole body was quivering . . . in horror.

“You should have tried it,” I said. “You’re always so scared. You’re like paralyzed when it comes to anything new.”

“Anything new?” she screamed. “You killed him! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You killed Lonny. You took a human life.”

“I know. I know,” I said. “But . . . but he was not a good person. And it tastes so good.”

“You’re a monster!” she cried. She kept her eyes straight ahead on the road, as if she was afraid to look at me. “A monster.”

“Look out. You almost hit that woman,” I warned, grabbing the wheel.

“I—I can’t live with this,” she stammered. She made a sharp left turn, cutting off an oil truck.

“Watch out!” I screamed. “You’d better let me drive.”

“No way,” she said. “We’ve got to get you help, Morgan. I can’t live with this. We have to find someone to help you—” She spun the wheel hard.

“What are you going to do?” I cried. “Where are we going?”

“To the police. I don’t know where else to go. Maybe they’ll know what to do.”

“Stop!” I screamed. “Let me out! You can’t turn me in to the police! We’re sisters, remember?”

“No. No, we’re not. We’re not sisters. You’re a monster! You . . . you killed Lonny. I have to do this, Morgan.”

“The police? You’re joking,” I said. She couldn’t be serious—could she? She would turn her best friend in to the police? Just because I had an accident with a tattoo needle?

“What do you want me to do?” she said. “What do you expect? Do you expect me just to keep it a secret?”

“Yes,” I said. “No one needs to know—”

“But I know!” she screamed. “I’ll never stop seeing it. I’ll never stop seeing you lapping up Lonny’s blood like a dog. Letting it pour over your face and drip from your lips. I-I’ll see that for the rest of my life!”

Her words were bringing me back to earth. I felt my energy slipping. My body suddenly seemed heavy. The lights that flashed in my eyes quickly dimmed.

“Morgan, listen to me—” I started.

“No. Just shut up. You need help,” she said through gritted teeth. I saw teardrops running down her cheeks. “You need help. The police will get help for you. They’ll call your parents. They’ll find you doctors. They’ll—”

“NO!” I screamed. “I won’t go there. NO WAY!”

I grabbed the wheel. I tried to spin it, to turn the car.

She jabbed her elbow into my side. “Let go. Let go. Are you crazy? Back away, Morgan.”

I shoved her with both hands. “Turn around. Turn around now. I’m not going to the police.”

She clamped her jaw tight, kept her gaze straight ahead, and gripped the wheel with both hands.

I shoved her shoulder hard. I clamped both hands around the wheel—and swung it to the right.

She elbowed me again.

I swung the wheel.

I saw her foot slam down hard on the brake.

I heard the squeal of tires before I saw the concrete barrier.

It rose up fast in the windshield. Darkened the glass. And then the sound of the crash boomed like thunder, thunder inside my head, a roar that surrounded me and shut out all light.

The jolt of the collision sent my head shooting back against the seat. Pain throbbed instantly all over my head.

And I felt the car rise up over the barrier . . . felt it lift off the ground. And then I was upside down . . . too terrified, too surprised to scream. Upside down, and I knew the car was spinning over, overturning.

There was darkness. Then there was another hard jolt. Then there was crushing pain.

Before it all stopped. Before it all came to an end, I let out one last painful breath.

And then I lost everything. And knew that I was dead.

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