by Amy Crandall
Shit.
“I’ve never seen this before in my life. It’s not even my bag!”
Liar.
A vein protruded from his forehead, and Abigale could sense his growing anger. “I know what happened at the party.”
Abigale’s heart skipped a beat. He knew? She hadn’t even told Jules what had happened that night. How would the agent have found out?
Panic welling up inside her, Abigale said, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was like a bomb had exploded. Agent Ross got up from his chair and slammed his fists down on either side of her shaking hands, which were clasped together, elbows pressed against the table. “You know damn well what I’m talking about! Mr. Klasson had too much to drink, he tried taking advantage of you, and something inside of you snapped.” He jabbed his finger at the grisly photo again. “You decided to hurt him, didn’t you, Abigale? You decided to kill him for what he did to you!”
Abigale was too shocked to speak. She sat there, her gaze unwavering.
He thinks I killed Mike too.
“N-no,” she stammered when she found her voice again. “I didn’t—I could’ve never—”
“I don’t think you did it alone,” the agent said, his voice still as loud as it had been before. “I think you had someone help you. Just like I think you had someone help you kill Julia Holland.”
“What?” Abigale cried. Horror shook her to her very core. “No! I could’ve never hurt either of them! I—”
“I’m on to you,” Agent Ross interrupted, pointing a damning finger at her. “I know what you did, Abigale. And I’m going to prove it.”
Agent Ross swiped the file from the desk. He stormed out of the interrogation room with Detective Collins close behind. Before he left, he flashed Abigale a knowing look. The detective had tried to warn her. She wished she’d accepted his help.
She stared at the photo, suspecting Agent Ross left behind on purpose. The body laid at a twisted angle. Blood forever stained the pavement behind its head. Bile rose in her throat again, but she didn’t push it down. She retched onto the concrete floor, a nauseating stench filling the room.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Abigale awoke the next day in her own bed, wearing the same clothes from the previous night. The curtains were drawn, so only a sliver of light shone through. While her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she lay there trying to piece together what had happened the previous night. She remembered Mike storming off, Damien kissing her senseless, and watching Damien leave in his car. He never told her where he was going. She figured she didn’t want to know.
Abigale pulled the covers off her exhausted body and sat up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stretched out her arms to loosen her aching muscles. When she rubbed her hands down her cheeks, she noticed something rough coating her palms. Confused, she pulled them away from her face.
Abigale stared at the dark red stains in horror, then flipped her hands over and discovered that the substance ran across the front and backs of them. It crawled up her arms as well, something she saw a few seconds later. She didn’t feel any pain and quickly realized that it wasn’t her blood that stained her skin.
Oh, my God. Whose blood is it?
Abigale raced over to the full-length mirror leaning on the wall. The blood was on more than just her limbs. It covered her shirt; an angry red handprint was visible on the fabric over her stomach. Her face was dotted with speckles of blood. It reminded her of a movie where a victim was shot at close range. Her green eyes were bloodshot and filled with terror. The dark red that stained her body made her pale skin appear translucent. Behind her, she saw that her sheets were speckled with blood as well.
What the hell happened last night?
She was terrified of the state she was in. All she remembered was Mike leaving, and Damien leaving soon after that. She remembered standing on her front porch her lips still tingling from Damien’s kiss. Everything was a blank after that.
Her first thought was to call Damien, to ask him if she indeed had gone inside right after he left. But she didn’t want to worry him, and it would only bring up further questions.
Abigale stared down at her palms again, terror filling her.
What did I do?
Panic burned the back of her mind like acid. She had to get all of the blood off of her, soon. If she had done something…
She walked over to her door, opening it gently. Luckily, it seemed that her mother was still sleeping in the bedroom across from her. She crept into the bathroom and locked the door.
She filled the sink with water and plunged her hands in first. The water instantly turned pink. She scrubbed until her hands were raw, trying to remove every trace of blood. Her fingernails were caked with a mixture of dirt and red, which only caused her panic to grow. Abigale clipped them down to the nubs after she realized she couldn’t completely clean underneath and scrubbed the remaining residue from her skin. Then she peeled off her bloodstained shirt and used it to scrub the rest of herself. She knew she’d have to throw it out anyway.
After she removed what blood she could, Abigale turned on the shower. She was just about to remove the rest of her clothes when her back pocket vibrated. Frowning, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Her heart thumping against her chest painfully, she checked the notifications.
You have a new message from DarkHeart434.
You have a new message from DarkHeart434.
Message from: Jules.
Abigale unlocked her phone and went to the Messenger app, her body shaking violently from fear. It was always concerning when DarkHeart434 texted her, but it was even more concerning she’d hear from them after she woke up covered in blood.
Her eyes skimmed over the first message, her breath choppy and uneven.
DarkHeart434: My dearest Abigale. I told you to choose, and you did. I’m sorry you had to wake up like that. You’ll see me soon enough though.
The second message was a rose emoticon. She barely had a chance to process the message before a caller ID flashed over her screen. Jules was calling her. Abigale hastily picked up the phone.
“Jules? Oh, my gosh, are you okay? I couldn’t find you last night, so I went home. You didn’t spend the night with Donny, did—”
“He’s dead,” Jules said flatly.
Abigale stopped breathing. She glanced down at the shirt crumpled on the floor of the bathroom, the fabric forever stained red. Her insides twisted. “Who-Who’s dead, Jules?”
“M-Mike. He’s…they found him this morning. Someone—oh, there was so much blood, Abigale. So much blood.”
Abigale sank to her knees, tears stinging her eyes. “Where did they find him, Jules?”
The other end of the line was silent for a moment then a sob echoed through the receiver. “The school parking lot. He was—God, you could hardly recognize him, Abby. There was so much blood.”
“Do they know who did it?” Fear was clawing at Abigale now. DarkHeart434 had mentioned something about her making a choice. Her mind flipped back to the day Jules was over when they’d texted her in the kitchen.
DarkHeart434: From abusive ex-boyfriends to hunky new boyfriends with secrets. Who should I hurt first, dearest Abigale?
She figured the abusive ex was Donny, and she assumed the new boyfriend was Mike. Telling her that she made a choice…had she hurt Mike herself?
Jules’ voice snapped her back to attention. “No, they don’t.” She sniffled. “Who could do such a horrible thing?”
Abigale’s eyes, blurry from tears, wandered back to the shirt on the floor. She felt as if someone was slowly choking her. “I-I don’t know.”
***
After Mike was discovered in the parking lot, school was canceled for Monday. Abigale didn’t hear the specifics about his grisly death, but rumors floated around between peers on Facebook that he’d been stabbed beyond recognition. The wallet in his back po
cket had identified him on the scene, versus waiting for dental records in the morgue.
Abigale remained in her room for most of the day, curled up in her blankets. They’d dated for only a couple of days, and he was technically already her ex when he died, but it still hurt. They’d been friends for months, and her heart ached for him, despite what he did to her.
Another part of her wondered if she’d been the one who held the knife. After scrubbing her body down in the shower, she disposed of her clothes in a garbage bag and left it at the curb. Luckily for her, it was garbage disposal day. It was gone an hour later.
After she’d dressed in clean clothes, she ripped apart her room to make sure she’d gotten rid of any remnants of blood. Once she was satisfied that her room no longer had the makings of a crime scene, Abigale laid down in her bed.
She briefly explained what had happened to Mike after her mother walked through the door while Abigale was making breakfast. Her mother was wearing the same clothes as the night before, but Abigale didn’t question it. Not then. Not when she was in the process of grieving and wondering if she herself had been the murderer. After hugging and sobbing together, her mother let her go up to her room for solitude.
Abigale stared out of the open window from her bed, debating whether she should pull the curtains closed. After a few minutes, she coaxed herself out of bed to peer into the world outside.
The sun was high in the sky, reflecting in the tiny pools left by the previous night’s rainstorm. She was just about to close the curtains when something caught the corner of her eye. Damien’s car, the one she hadn’t seen that morning, was parked in the driveway. Her eyebrows knitted together. Where had he been? It wasn’t like him to be gone all night and all morning. He was always home then. Abigale knew this because she’d see his car every morning when she’d walk to school.
She wondered if he’d found her wandering around like he had earlier that night. Wondered if he’d brought her home and tucked her into bed.
No, she thought. He would have reported me to the cops if he’d seen me covered in blood like that.
Still, part of her wasn’t so sure. She stepped away from the window, exited her room, flew down the flight of stairs, and left the house before her mother could ask her where she was going.
“Damien!" she called as she crossed into his yard. "Damien!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
The door swung open before Abigale reached Damien’s doorstep. Her pulse raced when her eyes met his blue ones. They were as mesmerizing as ever. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Had she really been kissing him just that past night?
“Abby,” Damien said huskily. He stepped out of the house, closing the door tightly behind him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. “What are you doing here?”
Abigale swallowed hard. His mouth was so close to hers she couldn’t think straight. The other part of her thought about how wrong it was to be thinking about someone else when her ex-boyfriend had just been murdered. She reluctantly removed his hands from her waist. “We need to talk about last night.”
Damien tried to reach for her again, but she backed away.
“You regret what happened, don’t you?”
“What?” Abigale’s mind flashed back to the moment on her porch. One of his hands around her waist and the other tangled in her hair as they passionately kissed. “No, Damien, it’s not that. I mean, no. It shouldn’t have happened. But that’s not why I’ve come.”
“Why have you come then?”
“I—” her voice faltered. “Mike…he’s dead.”
“What?” Damien froze. “What do you mean, Abby?”
“I mean,” she said, her mouth dry, “h-he was murdered. They found him in the school parking lot this morning.”
Damien cursed loudly, reaching for Abigale again. She fell into his embrace. Sobs wracked her body as he held her, his hands running through her dark hair. “I’m so sorry, Abby,” he muttered. “Do they know who did it?”
The bloody clothes on her floor flashed through Abigale’s mind, and she cried harder. “N-no,” she said between sobs. “They d-don’t know who did it.”
Abigale buried her face into his shirt, her tears quickly dampening the fabric. He didn’t seem to mind. She was being lowered onto the step gently, her body still pressed close to his. Damien held her until she stopped crying.
When the tears finally stopped flowing, Abigale felt numb inside. She sat there, still snuggled in Damien’s strong arms until she found the words to speak.
“Where did you go last night?” she asked, her voice hoarse from sobbing.
Damien was silent for what seemed like a long while. “I went for a drive.”
“A drive?” Abigale echoed. “Did you see Mike?”
“No.”
“Did…did I go into the house when you left?”
There was another long pause. “Why all the questions, Abby?”
A chill caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end at his response. “Please, just tell me. Did I go into the house when you left?”
“Yes,” he said with an evident level of uncertainty.
“Did I? This is important, Damien.”
“Yes,” he told her, this time with more confidence. “You went inside.”
It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. “Okay.”
Abigale remained in his arms for a long time. She found the physical contact comforting while she attempted to sort out her feelings. The move to Arcata had been nothing short of a nightmare, and it seemed like it was getting worse. Her father was still missing, and Abigale had stopped trying to contact him. She figured that if he wanted her in his life, he would have called her by now.
Her discussions with Tiffany had also made a steep decline. They still talked every night, but Abigale could tell that they were growing apart. She thought it was only a matter of time before they stopped talking completely.
The only good thing that came out of moving to Arcata was meeting Jules and her friends. Pain squeezed her heart like a vice when Mike popped back into her mind. His light green eyes the color of new blades of grass always reminded her of springtime, and whenever she’d seen them, instant warmth would fill her from head-to-toe. Now she could conjure up their tortured, glassy look. Abigale’s pulse quickened when she realized how well she imagined his dead body. Maybe she really did have something to do with his murder.
Maybe she was the one who killed him.
She jumped up, trembling. “I-I should go now.”
Damien still appeared concerned. “Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t want me to come over or something to keep you company?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
He gave her a warm smile, but his eyes were cold. It made the smile seem forced. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
Abigale nodded, stuffing her vibrating hands into her coat pockets. “I will.”
They locked eyes. Damien stood and took a step toward her. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Before she could protest, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers firmly. Despite how wrong it felt to be kissing him with all that was going on, she responded, placing her arms around his neck.
Then he stepped away, disentangling himself from her. “I’ll see you later, Abby.”
“Okay,” she murmured, still tingling from the kiss. “See you later.”
***
DarkHeart434 went silent after Sunday morning. When Tuesday came around, Abigale felt more at ease. Grief hung in the air of the school hallways like a poisonous cloud. People gave Abigale and Jules’ group of friends looks of pity when they passed by, which only made it worse. Abigale was too numb to cry. She couldn’t help but think that she was the cause of Mike’s death.
She tried to make up excuses in her mind as to why she woke up soaked in someone
else’s blood. She wondered if maybe it wasn’t his blood at all, but another person’s. That conclusion was quickly tossed out, however. Nobody else had died that night. She also wondered if maybe she’d found him, dying from his stab wounds, and tried to help him. Even though the logic of the situation was against her, it was better than believing she was the one who’d stabbed him.
Neither she nor Jules spoke of the party. Abigale assumed Donny had done something to hurt her friend again, because of the fearful look Jules gave him whenever they’d pass by him in the hallway. But she respected the fact that Jules didn’t want to talk about it. Abigale didn’t want to speak about what Mike did; it would make her appear very guilty of his murder. If the cops got a hold of her blood-soaked clothes and traced them back to her, she’d be screwed.
Her memory of that night didn’t improve, no matter how much she tried to think about it. She spent the majority of English class staring off into space, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything went dark. By the end of class, all she could remember was the sight of Damien driving off in the direction Mike had. It made him look increasingly guilty in her mind, but then again, she was the one who’d woken up covered in blood.
“Abby?”
Abigale turned from her locker to face her friend, who looked pale. “What is it?” she asked worriedly.
Jules bit her lip, a nervous twitch she often displayed. “It…It’s nothing. How was class?”
Abigale wanted to pursue the matter further, to find out exactly what Jules was going to say but decided against it. “It was okay. How was yours?”
Shrugging, Jules said, “It was fine.”
Silence grew between them. The urge to tell Jules about the events of the party overwhelmed her. She was about to open her mouth to speak when Jules cut her off.