I hug her back, hating that she’s so upset, but I’m distracted by why I dreamt about Paige last night. How she was in the water. I also can’t help but think about the time in the police station when I wandered over to the flyers on the wall. How I was drawn to Paige’s. How I thought I heard someone telling me to go over and look at the wall.
“Do the police know what happened to Paige?” My tone shakes a bit as my pulse increases.
She pulls back and looks at me. “Not yet, but I’m sure it was an accident. That road around that lake is dangerous, especially at night.” She sighs heavily. “There’s probably one more thing I need to tell you since this town loves to gossip. It’s about a girl that was reported missing this morning. She’s about your age too so you might know her.”
Fear courses through me. “Who was she?”
“I think her name was Beth Trelarallie,” she says. “Do you know her?”
Beth Trelarallie. The girl I saw Foster flirting with at the gas station the night of the accident.
I give a shaky nod. “Not well, but I do know her… But how do you know she’s missing?”
“Because Miss Belfertoer loves to gossip. From what she told me, Beth was at a party when she disappeared. There’s been speculation that her drink might have been drugged beforehand, but that might be the gossip mill spinning things out of control. You know how this town can be.” She forces a smile. “But let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” She rises to her feet, but then pauses. “I think it’d be for the best if, at least for a while, you avoided wandering around alone. And maybe you should avoid going to parties for a bit.”
I nod, my mind spinning.
Beth was drugged.
Drugged like a girl was at the last party I went to. A party I went to the night of the accident. The night I can barely remember anything about.
Drugged.
Blurry.
Hands touching me.
Lips on mine.
I can’t breathe.
I blink from the distorted images.
Was I drugged that night? Is that why I can’t remember much of what happened?
But I can remember up until about when Foster and I arrived at the cliff, so when could I have been drugged? It’s not like we were drinking in his truck. Maybe it happened at the party we were at earlier? But does it take that long for drugs to kick in?
“I’m going to go make you some French toast,” my mom says. “How does that sound?”
“Good.” I scoot to the edge of the bed as she exits the room.
Then I get up, shut the door, and return to my bed, mulling over what she just told me.
Beth is missing. Another girl is missing in this town.
And then there’s Paige’s body being found in the lake only hours after I dreamt of her death.
Nothing makes sense anymore, yet I feel like in the midst of my confusion, something is crying out to me, begging me to see the truth.
Sighing, I grab my computer and get comfortable in my bed. Then I spend the next several hours sitting around, skim-reading articles on the internet and attempting to put together the pieces of what’s going on with my mind. But the more I read, the more confused I get. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Nothing has become my middle name.
I am a hollowed shell of flesh and bones with nothing inside me. Or maybe the answers are written somewhere underneath my skin, like the wound on my wrist. Perhaps, if I peel my flesh back and look inside, I’ll get the answers.
I scratch my bandaged wrist with the strongest compulsion to stab my fingernails into the wound again. This time, I’ll keep digging until the truth bleeds out of me, the secrets of that night, and why I am the way I am now.
Or maybe I’ll just end up bleeding to death. Who the hell knows.
Finally, after hours of staring at the computer screen, I start to grow tired. I fight off the sleepiness for a while because I’m seriously starting to hate closing my eyes, but eventually it gets the best of me and darkness pulls me under.
Seventeen
Harlynn
I’m standing in a dark closet, and music is pulsating from the other side. I’m not alone. There’s a guy in here with me. I’m not sure who he is since I was blindfolded when I came in here. All I know is that I’m supposed to be kissing him. Instead, I’m standing here awkwardly, listening to the sounds of his breaths.
This was such a bad idea. Coming to this party was such a bad idea. Agreeing to play this stupid game of truth or dare was a bad idea. And maybe drinking those shots of vodka in the car was a bad idea, too.
My heart slams against my chest, my breaths leaving me in deafeningly loud gasps. I’m beyond nervous, and it’s more than evident.
Maybe I should just open the door and declare that I’m a big loser. It’s not like I know anyone here except Star. Well, and Porter and Kingsley, but I haven’t seen them since we arrived …
Whoever is in here with me unexpectedly takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. The gesture makes a bit of relief trickle through me.
Perhaps they’re equally as nervous as I am. Although, most of the people at the party don’t really seem like the type to get nervous about kissing a total stranger. Then again, everyone here seems either buzzed or high, which I find odd since no one was allowed to bring alcohol or drugs to the party. But Star and I did shots of vodka before we came in, so …
The hand on mine slowly starts to travel upward along my arm, the palm rough and warm against my skin. When it reaches the curve of my shoulder, it slips around to the back of my neck, fingers splaying across my flesh.
My pulse quickens in a nervously excited way. I’ve never really been kissed before, and while I always wanted Foster to be my first real kiss, I find myself strangely excited about this. Then again, this guy could be anyone. He could be a total creeper. Yet, for some bizarre reason, I feel content. Nervously excited yet content.
“Who are you?” I whisper, even though I was told not to speak when I came in here. That was a rule Star had set when I chose dare, and she dared me to go into the closet and let her pick someone for me to make out with. I’m not supposed to see them or say anything to them. I’m not supposed to know who I’m about to kiss.
Their fingers tense against the back of my neck. Heavy breathing fills the space, and the sound mixes with my own rapid breathing. Then they lace their fingers through my free hand, holding on tightly as warm breaths caress the side of my face.
Oh, my word, this is really happening—
Lips brush mine, tentative at first, as if they’re not really sure about this. Or maybe they’re just being careful with me, as if they can sense this is my first real kiss.
Jesus, am I that transparent?
Their fingers on the back of my neck softly trace circles across my skin. The feeling is relaxing, and my eyelids start to drift shut when they suddenly part my lips with their tongue.
I gasp then cringe at the noise, my cheeks warming in embarrassment. But, as they deepen the kiss, the warmth leaves my face and travels through my body, my pulse pounding as I clutch onto their hand.
When their tongue tangles with mine, my legs tremble, and I damn near about fall down. As if sensing where my thoughts are, they shift the hand on my neck to my waist and grasp onto me, holding me steady and kissing me so deeply that I forget how to breathe.
Maybe I don’t even need air at all anymore.
Warm lips on mine …
Breathing air into my lungs …
Breathing life into me …
Warm lips …
I know those lips …
They brand me—
My eyelids fly open, and my fingers drift to my lips. Holy shit. Those lips that kissed me that night in the closet are the same ones that breathed life into me. That’s why they were familiar. But I have no clue who kissed me that night, so this revelation doesn’t help me get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the night I d
ied.
However, it’s a start. And there’s one person who knows who was in that closet with me. Star. She could be the key to helping me solve who saved my life. That is, if I can find her.
I haven’t seen her since she dropped out of school not too long after the party. But I know some people who still hang out with her. People that I’m not sure I trust, but I may have to look past that for now.
Lowering my hand from my lips, I roll to my side and reach for my phone to check what time it is. Just after nine o’clock in the evening. It’s late and my mom will have a fit if I try to leave the house. But I think this might be worth facing her wrath later if she catches me sneaking out.
Rubbing my eyes, I sit up and open the message thread with Porter, ignoring the new messages from Foster.
Me: I want to have some fun. Can I hang out with you guys tonight?
What I really want is to talk to them about what I overheard them discussing the other night, and to try to find Star so I can ask her who kissed me in the closet. But I keep all of that to myself for now. I just hope Porter wasn’t messing with me when he invited me to hang out with him, but it does kind of seem like something he’d do.
So I’ll admit, I’m kind of surprised when I receive a message from him only moments later.
Porter: All right, dead girl. Fun is on the way.
Eighteen
Kingsley
“Why the hell are we heading toward my house?” I ask Porter as he turns off the highway and into my neighborhood.
“We’re not going to your house,” he replies evasively. But the amused smile that rises across his face lets me know that he’s about to do something that’ll annoy me.
He’s been my best friend since ninth grade, and while we have a lot in common, like our love for tattoos and piercings and the fact that both our parents see us as disappointments, we’re also very different, like with our personalities, how we see the world, and what we find funny. And I’ve learned over the years that generally, when Porter smiles in amusement, I’m about to get annoyed.
“Then, why the heck are we heading into my neighborhood?” I ask as he makes a turn onto a side road that’s pretty damn close to my house. “I thought we were going to the party at Dan’s tonight? We’re supposed to.”
“We are,” he assures me as he makes a circle around the same block. “This is just a quick detour.”
“What kind of a detour?” I ask suspiciously.
He glances around at the sidewalk lit up by lampposts. It’s just after ten o’clock, the neighborhood is quiet, and most of the lights in the houses are off. That’s usually how it is around here, even on weekends. If you go farther south in town, though, the night comes alive, people covering the sidewalks and loitering on street corners. Night is what people should be afraid of everywhere, though.
Night is when the bad come alive.
As Porter continues to make yet another loop around the block without explaining what he’s doing, my frustration builds.
“Dude, seriously, what the hell are you doing?”
“Will you chill the hell out?” He parks near a street corner, digs his phone out of his pocket, and sends a text. “This’ll only take a second.”
“Okay, but what are we even doing here?” I say, highly aware that we’re parked on the corner of the street that leads to Harlynn’s house.
I look at Porter then frown.
His gaze is locked on Harlynn’s house.
Fuck. This isn’t good.
“Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”
“I didn’t,” he promises.
That doesn’t mean anything since mine and Porter’s definition of stupid greatly varies.
“Porter …” I start, but he hops out of the car before I can finish.
As he jogs across the street, heading in the direction of Harlynn’s house, I grab his keys, climb out of the car, and hurry after him, making sure to stay in the shadows. If anyone sees me sneaking around, they’ll probably call the cops on my ass. I’m not trusted in this town and have a bad reputation based on some lies and some truths. Not that I care. Well, most of the time I don’t. I’ve gotten used to it at this point, used to being the sprouted weed in my family. But there are a few people’s opinions that matter to me. And one of those people lives in the house I’m jogging up to.
When Porter reaches the side of the house where Harlynn’s window is, he crouches down just below it. Since he’s wearing all black clothing, he blends in with the shadows.
“What’re you doing?” I hiss as I hunker down beside him then glance up at Harlynn’s window.
Her house is only one story, which means, if she so much as glances outside, she’ll probably spot us.
Grinning, Porter puts his fingers to his lips and shushes me.
I give him a cold stare and whisper, “If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m going to go back to your car, drive away, and leave your ass here.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Grinning, he pats his pockets. “You don’t have the keys …” He frowns. “Fuck, I think I left them in the car.”
“You did.” I dangle them in front of his face. “And I grabbed them.”
He reaches for the keys, but I quickly move my hand out of his reach.
“Tell me why we’re hiding beneath Harlynn’s window and I’ll give them back to you. And please don’t say it’s about me telling her the truth. Because I’m not ready to do that yet.” I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
I couldn’t even imagine telling her what I know. She’d probably think I was insane.
He rests his hands against the ground to keep his balance. “It’s …”
The window above us suddenly slides open.
I tense, preparing to run, knowing if Harlynn sees me out here, she’ll probably think I’m stalking her. It’s the kind of shit Foster has been putting in her head—that I stalk her. And finding me here will be like confirming the bullshit lies he’s been telling her for years now. And that little moment we had in my bedroom the other day, where she looked at me without fear, will slip away from me.
Then again, I really doubt it matters. Not after she finds out the truth. Not after she finds out that not only did my brother lie to her, but so did I. I didn’t have a choice, though. I have to keep what happened a secret for several reasons, one being I’m not sure she could handle the truth.
“Hey.” Harlynn pops her head out the window and looks down at us, not an ounce of surprise in her, as if she expected us to be here. She glances at Porter. “I told you I didn’t need you to come up to the window. I could’ve walked the fifty feet by myself.”
“The fact that you actually believe that shows how naïve you are,” he replies with a grin.
I shake my head. For years, Porter has loved getting underneath Harlynn’s skin. Not that I can blame him. The feisty side of her that comes out whenever he does is sexy as hell, and if she weren’t scared of me most of the time, I’d probably seek every opportunity I could to do the same thing. But I know she’s always afraid of me. Well, almost always. There have been a few occasions when she’s seen past what everyone else sees in me, like yesterday when she actually smiled at me. And it was the most goddamn gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
She narrows her eyes at Porter. “I’m not naïve, asshole. I know self-defense. If you don’t believe me, though, I can give you a demonstration. My favorite move is the old kick in the balls.”
“Kinky. I like it.” Porter grins at her, but then he sneaks me a sidelong glance, causing Harlynn to look my way.
Her big eyes that are beyond gorgeous widen for a moment but she promptly collects herself. “I didn’t know you were going to come with this asshole.” She points at Porter. “I guess I probably should’ve, though, since you two are attached at the hip.” A playful smile touches her lips.
That’s the thing about Harlynn and maybe where part of my fixation with her stems from. Even though she sometime
s is afraid of me—and who can blame her with how I act sometimes—she always speaks directly to me while most people talk around me or pretend I don’t exist, my parents being one of these people. She’s even touched me a few times, and when we were younger, she hugged me. Even though it made me uncomfortable, I appreciated it—the brief human connection, the contact, the reminder that not everyone in this world hates me.
“We’re not attached at the hip,” I say. “And I wasn’t even aware we were coming to your house until about thirty seconds ago. If I did, we never would’ve shown up.” Fuck, I sound like an asshole. But I’m nervous and my social skills suck, especially around her.
“Oh.” She frowns, studying me with her head angled to the side, strands of her long, wavy brown hair falling into her face.
I try not to stare, but it’s complicated.
If only she weren’t gorgeous. And quiet, yet snarky. If only she hadn’t hugged me all those years ago, giving me the very first hug I can ever remember having.
Maybe if all those things weren’t true, I could get over this infatuation I have with her. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try, I can’t. Even her flaws draw me in.
Everything about her draws me in.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she wonders, biting her bottom lip.
“Looking at you like what?” I play dumb, trying to tear my gaze off of her, but fail epically.
Shit, this is bad. I shouldn’t be here tonight. Not with all the lies between us. It’s dangerous if she finds out the truth and it’ll ruin everything I’ve worked for. Plus, she’s too good to be hanging out with me.
Too good.
I’m bad.
The bad one.
I’ve been told this forever, so much so that it’s branded into my mind like invisible scars.
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 12