Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
“I didn’t love her,” he said, almost to himself.
But his face was twisted in sadness and despair as tears spilled over, falling down his dirty face.
“I don’t know why it hurts,” he told me. “I didn’t love her.”
“You did,” I said, but it came out as a whisper. “You learned how to love from her.” I turned my eyes back out my window, staring at the grave. “This is what it looked like.”
My parents raised me, but so did Martin. He shaped me.
No wonder I couldn’t give Will what he wanted.
Tears finally hit my eyes until everything was so blurry that I couldn’t see.
Damon took off, and I didn’t know where we were going, but when he pulled into the school parking lot, I was a little relieved.
I didn’t want to go home.
And I couldn’t like this. I needed to find some clean clothes. The clock on the dash read 2:02 a.m.
Damon drove around the school, to the rear, and parked between the buses and the field house.
He killed the engine, reached into the back and pulled out a baseball cap, and threw it at me as he pulled up his hood.
“Put it on,” he said. “And let’s go.”
I hesitated, my natural inclination to argue or demand answers, but…he seemed to have a plan, at least, and I couldn’t even remember my own name at the moment.
I slipped on the hat and exited the car, following him to the door as he pulled out a set of keys.
How he had keys to the school, I had no idea, and I didn’t give a shit.
He unlocked the door, and I hurried inside, following him through the boys’ locker room. He grabbed two towels and led me into a huge shower with multiple heads, slinging the towels over a divider.
I looked around as he started the water.
The girls had separate stalls. Some privacy, at least.
“Clothes off,” he told me. “Now.”
He pulled off his sweatshirt and started undoing his pants, and I opened my mouth to protest, but I clamped it shut again.
He wasn’t killing me, I guess.
He stripped off his clothes, and slowly, I did the same, just running on autopilot now.
I unhooked my overalls, pulled my sweater over my head, and discarded everything—my shoes, socks, and even my underthings, too scared of the slightest evidence.
We both dipped under our respective showerheads and rinsed, blood dripping off his body and down the drain. I spied a black rosary hanging around his neck and down his chest. Did he wear that all the time?
I closed my eyes, shivering under the water.
“You know who my father is, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
“And you know what will happen to you if you breathe a word of this.”
I opened my eyes and looked over at him, meeting his eyes through the locks of hair in my face.
“I know better,” I mumbled. “I don’t have your money to get out of this.”
He regarded me for a moment and then dipped down, rubbing at his legs and then arms.
I couldn’t stop shaking, my stomach churning as the water ran over the cut on my eyebrow, stinging.
“Maybe I’ll return the favor someday.” He stood back up. “When you’re ready to deal with him.”
His eyes fell down my body, taking in all the bruises he’d already seen.
“I’m a loose end,” I pointed out. “Why didn’t you kill me when you saw me see you there tonight?”
He looked like he was thinking about it.
But instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you run when you saw me?”
He was right. I’d willingly inserted myself.
And why? To help him? I didn’t even like him, and how did I know what he was telling me was the truth? Maybe his mom was the nicest person in the world.
I’d gambled everything on his word. And for what?
I shook my head, trying to clear it. “There’s a…” I swallowed, raising my hand to my head. “There’s a tear in the membrane today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He stared back at me, silent.
I dropped my eyes, remembering how it felt. How I watched him and imagined what it would be like to kill someone you hated.
“I wanted to see you throw her away,” I whispered.
He stood there, quiet, as if studying me or trying to figure something out, and then he sighed, rubbing the water all over his face.
He cleared his throat. “I have a sister,” he told me. “Her name is Nik, but everyone calls her Banks.” He met my eyes again. “If something happens, and I can’t be there for her—if they arrest me for this—you need to go to my house and help her. She doesn’t have anyone else. You understand?”
Huh?
“You’re asking me?” I looked at him, confused. “Why?”
He had tons of people he could count on.
But he just turned around, shut off the water, and raised his arms, smoothing his hands over his hair. “I’m not sure anyone else would’ve helped me bury a body,” he murmured.