Rachel tried to sit up, her lips parting slowly as she realized where she was and what was happening. I squeezed her hand, trying to calm her. She looked at me, her eyes filled with utter terror.
My mouth was dry. My limbs were numb. And Pinner was sharpening his knives.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
A loud blast jarred my entire body. Shocked, I looked around frantically, still holding onto Rachel. The room instantly filled with smoke. “Come on!” I shouted, yanking her arm so hard I’m surprised I didn’t rip it out of socket.
I dragged her behind me, stumbling through the smoke. “Don’t fucking move,” Pockets said, wrapping his arm around my throat.
“Go!” I shouted, shoving Rachel forward. She disappeared in the smoke, stumbling ahead. I coughed uncontrollably, trying to jerk out of Pockets’ grasp. A loud bang, another gunshot…a hole in Pockets’ head.
His grip on me loosened, and he tumbled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I placed a hand over my face and mouth, eyes burning. Someone with a gas mask was pulling me by the elbow.
“Follow me,” said the person in the mask, the sounds of the words garbled, distorted.
I didn’t care who this person was, they had to be safer than the Garretts. I stumbled through the house, trying to keep up with the mask-wearer.
More shots rang out. I looked up, squinted. The man in the mask had a gun in each hand. He shot the clown between the eyes.
My eyes were on the door. I could see it through a hazy cloud of smoke up ahead. I had to get to Rachel.
Finally through the front door, I sucked in desperate breaths of air, screeching her name in the dark.
Then suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind. Started dragging me back toward that wretched limo. My eyes caught sight of Rachel, running away in the distance.
Yes, run! Run away! I thought happily, giddily.
“Stop! Stop right there!” someone shouted. It was a girl, no older than twenty, racing across the lawn toward me. I jerked around, trying to see who my captor was. It was Pinner. They should rename him the Butcher, I thought, shaking fearfully. I twisted and pulled, tried to kick him in the shins from behind.
He was gripping me so tightly, I could feel dozens of piercings on his chest digging into my backside.
“Let her go!” the blonde girl shouted, stopping less than a few feet from us. She didn’t have a weapon that I could see.
Pinner laughed. Clutching me with one hand, he opened the door to the limo, preparing to toss me inside, like they did last time.
“Not this fucking time,” someone said. The person in the mask ran out of the foggy house, gun aimed straight at his head.
With no hesitation, the mask-wearer pulled the trigger. Bullets rang out as he shot him again and again. Pinner fell against that awful limo, his dead body jerking from side to side as the mask-wearer shot him. How do you like that metal in your chest? I thought, unflinching as I watched him die.
When he was finished, the mask-wearer dropped the gun, yanking the gas mask off.
But it wasn’t a he.
“Wendi!” the blonde girl shouted, running toward her friend. They embraced.
“Are you okay?” the woman named Wendi asked, walking toward me. I was still in shock, my body reeling.
“We need to go now,” she said hurriedly, not waiting for me to respond. “Everybody in the car!” She pushed us toward her Corolla.
Painfully, I climbed in behind the young blonde. Wendi leaned inside. “I have to go back in. Joseph’s still in there. I’m sorry,” she said, slamming the door to the car.
She raced back inside the smoke-filled house.
“No!” the other girl shouted, fighting to get out of the door. Child locks were on. She climbed through the front, kicking me in the process. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I couldn’t let them go it alone. It hurt like hell, but I climbed over the seat behind her, dragging myself out of the car. I ran behind the blonde girl, trying to shout for her to wait.
But before I could even reach the front door, Wendi was stumbling back out. The other girl screamed and then caught her in her arms. She was bleeding profusely, a gaping wound in her chest.
There was a gun on the ground beside her. I picked it up and ran inside, determined to shoot that bastard myself. But two steps in, I found him. Joseph was already dead. They must have shot each other in the process.
Police sirens roared in the distance, blessedly close but not close enough.
Chapter
Fifty-Five
Wendi
Malachi was dead. Joseph was dead. The bizarre clown. The other man, the one with the disfigured face, was dead too. They were all dead. The last of the Garrett family…
When I ran back outside the smoke-filled house, the first faces I saw were Marianna’s and Josie’s. I was so happy to see them safe. Their expressions changed from thrilled to devastated.
Marianna was staring at my chest. I followed her piercing blue eyes, stared at the gaping red hole in my own chest.
My body slammed against the ground, shaking. I couldn’t feel pain, but my head felt foggy and strange. I stared at the sky, a bed of moon-lined clouds…like a beautiful painting in a museum or a lovely screen saver I used to have…
This is not a scene…this is my life, I realized. And I could feel the life draining out of me.
I’m dying.
I moved my eyes side to side, catching a glimpse of Marianna. She leaned over me, her eyes wide and full of pain.
I tried to move my mouth and form the words—words she’d heard a million times, but I needed to say them. But she said them for me…
“I love you, Wendi. Please don’t die,” she whispered, rocking my body back and forth, although I couldn’t feel her touch.
I coughed and sputtered. Too much blood was coming out, choking me and stealing my breath.
Yanking off her shirt, Marianna tried to plug my wound. She always tried so hard to fix me, all the while I was trying to fix her too.
Perhaps we were put on this Earth to fix each other…
My body convulsed.
For most of my life, when I closed my eyes, all I could hear was that dreadful song—that song, the one they played in the House of Horrors. But for the first time since I was a young child, there was nothing but silence and the cool, sweet breath of the night air hugging my body. Everything bad and painful falling away…
I closed my eyes. I could feel my grandmother’s hands—paper thin, but rough on the tips from her sewing—she was rubbing my wounds away. And the sounds of my father’s old steel guitar and my mother’s singsong voice, telling me all would be okay. And my daughter, Shelby…I could see her in my arms, a newborn baby, her eyes latching onto mine as we fell in love for the first time.
Moments. So many beautiful moments in my life.
And then I thought about Jonathan and saw his perfect face, the way he always looked at me in a way I knew I was loved…and I smiled.
My eyes fluttered open one last time. To say goodbye to the girl who had become not only my best friend but my daughter, sister, and friend all rolled into one. She was a better version of me. Better than I could have ever hoped to be.
“Marianna…don’t become what they want you to be. Don’t become me. Don’t become me.”
Chapter
Fifty-Six
Marianna
Wendi was wrong. I did become her. I became all the parts of her she couldn’t see…all the parts that I loved. Her goodness, loyalty, and love. Her perseverance and strength.
I didn’t want her to die in Flocksdale. But apparently, it’s what she wanted all along. As much pain and horror as she experienced there, she also met the love of her life and gave birth to her daughter there.
She was buried on a rainy Monday morning in Flocksdale’s cemetery, next to her husband and hero, Jonathan. She wanted to put an end to the violence and evil, and she did…but she gave up her life doing so. And Wendi wouldn’t have wan
ted it any other way. No one else was up to the job, and so she stood up and accomplished it herself. Just as she always did.
I’m going to college next year, a couple states over from where Josie’s going to art school. I have no one now that Wendi’s gone and my business in Flocksdale is done. Although I’m sad, this is exactly what Wendi wanted. Now I have no choice but to follow through with her plans. Make a life for myself. Find someone and make babies. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
Josie
I am the last living descendent of the Garrett family, the only proof that that horrendous family ever existed, through some glitch in the evolution chain. I didn’t want to tell my father the truth about my mother’s indiscretions, but I had to. And surprisingly, he already knew.
Although I should hate my mother for what she did—cheating on my dad and going to jail—I don’t. She left me in the hands of my wonderful father, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. I’m learning to appreciate Candy, although sometimes it’s an uphill battle.
Rachel and Lucy come to visit often. I’m going to art school next year, and after that, who knows? The world awaits, I suppose.
As the last Garrett, I thought my family name would become my downfall. But instead, it became my windfall. All of that evil money—from the drugs and the girls—fell into my lap one cold winter day, as a lawyer sat in my living room, telling me and my dad I was rich. Rich beyond our wildest dreams.
I have no idea what I’ll do with the money. The leftover money, that is. I spent over ten million of it purchasing my own town. A little town you might have heard of…
Nobody lives there now, but it’s full of places where people can shop and eat. Wendi and her husband are buried there. Their daughter doesn’t live too far away, so she visits them often. Marianna and I also organized several women’s shelters and help centers, and spread them throughout the district.
I never knew Wendi in life. But in death, I’d like to think she’s proud.
Epilogue
In late 2015, the town of Flocksdale finally met its maker. The remaining residents were bought out, the houses torn to the ground—for the last and final time. The businesses were demolished, replaced with a strip mall, movie theater, and fun park. Restaurants and night clubs line the river. Shelters and centers offering services to women sparkle like neon beacons of light.
“Come find me,” I imagine Wendi whispering through the trees. “Come find me and I will help…”
In a sense, with all the bright new attractions, it was almost easy to forget…
To forget that evil once dwelled there, like a living, breathing, breeding thing…
But that’s the thing about evil. Evil is not a thing.
It’s not a house or a building…or even a town.
Evil is all around us. Inside some people. And sometimes, inside ourselves…
But we won’t let it in…not us. We are strong. We are resilient. We are the lost girls, and we’re always watching you…
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Acknowledgements
To all of my readers—thank you for supporting me and making my dreams come true. Just knowing I have people who want to read my books makes me so happy and makes my days just that much brighter.
To my amazing street team, Flocksdale’s Finest—thank you guys so much for being such amazing fans and friends. I wouldn’t give you guys up for the world.
To all of my friends named Rachel—I’m so lucky to have so many Rachels in my life and I appreciate each and every one of you guys.
To my husband—thank you for putting up with all of my writing and being my biggest fan every step of the way.
To my children—thank you for making my life meaningful and for inspiring me every day to be someone who makes you proud.
To Limitless Publishing—thank you for allowing me to tell this story, and for believing in me as a writer.
To Toni—thank you for fixing my small (and huge) mistakes. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
To Lydia and Crystal—thank you for working hard every day to promote my books.
To Ashley Byland—thank you for your amazing concepts and designs with the cover art. You bring my characters to life and I can’t thank you enough for that.
To all of the Limitless staff I’ve left out—you guys rock! Go Team Limitless! I appreciate each and every one of you.
To my mother, father, and sister—I love you guys so much! Thanks for being my family.
About the Author
Besides my family, my greatest love in life is books. Reading them, writing them, holding them, smelling them…well, you get the idea. I’ve always loved to read, and some of my earliest childhood memories are me, tucked away in my room, lost in a good book. I received a five dollar allowance each week, and I always—always—spent it on books. My love affair with writing started early, but it mostly involved journaling and writing silly poems. Several years ago, I didn’t have a book to read so I decided on a whim to write my own story, something I’d like to read. It turned out to be harder than I thought, but from that point on I was hooked. My first and second books were released by Sarah Book Publishing: This Is Not About Love and Grayson’s Ridge. I’m a total genre-hopper. Basically, I like to write what I like to read: a little bit of everything! I reside in Floyds Knobs, Indiana with my husband, three children, and massive collection of books. I have a degree in psychology and worked as a counselor.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/CarissaAnnLynchauthor
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https://carissaannlynch.wordpress.com/
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