It’s showtime.
30
CARRIE
Night settles deep around the outbuilding, wrapping everything in heavy silence. I pace the floor, nerves strung tight, listening for any sign of the boys’ return. My mind churns with worry, and the quiet only makes it worse.
I slip into the tiny bathroom, leaving the door ajar so I can still hear Marcy. She sits at the old kitchen table, staring into space, her fingers tapping an anxious rhythm. She hardly looks up when I try to ask how she’s feeling. Her eyes keep darting to the window, worry lines pinched tight across her forehead.
When I finish, I call out to her as I step back into the main room, but the space is empty. Her blanket lies in a heap on the couch. Her phone is still charging by the wall, untouched.
A chill slides down my spine. “Marcy?” I move through the small building, checking every corner. I find the kitchen chair knocked over, one of her shoes left by the door. The back screen creaks on its hinges, left wide open. Muddy footprints trail across the linoleum and out onto the damp grass, vanishing into the blackness beyond the porch.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. I swallow, forcing myself to follow the trail. At the edge of the porch, I spot a hairtie, a small glint of gold, and something that looks like a scuffle in the dirt—scraped leaves, a smear of fresh mud.
Fear washes over me. I raise my voice, calling her name into the night. “Marcy!”
No answer—just the wind in the trees and the distant sound of a car somewhere on the main road. The woods beyond the backyard are thick, shadows pressed between every trunk, the path barely visible in the faint light.
But I can’t stand still. I run, pushing through the brush, branches clawing at my arms, feet slipping on wet leaves.
I push deeper into the woods, my breath coming quick and shaky. Branches whip across my arms, leaves crunching underfoot. Every few steps I call Marcy’s name, my voice breaking the heavy quiet.
Just when I think I’ve lost the trail, I see a faint light up ahead—a patch where the moon spills through the branches, silvering the ground. Something moves beyond the edge of the clearing.
I stumble forward, heart pounding, and then freeze. A figure steps out from behind a thick old pine, shoulders broad, head ducked low. For a moment, I can’t move. I recognize the walk, the tilt of his head, even before he looks up.
Jinn.
He steps into the moonlight, close enough that I can see the familiar lines of his face, that crooked smile I’ve tried to forget. My chest seizes up. My mind can’t catch up—this isn’t possible.
My knees go weak, and I blink hard, sure this has to be a dream, a nightmare spun out of fear and exhaustion. But he stands there, real as ever, watching me with that unreadable look.
My eyes finally drop to the ground behind Jinn, and my heart nearly stops. Marcy is lying in the grass, half-curled, her hair tangled, face streaked with dirt and tears. She’s breathing, but barely moving. I want to run to her, but I’m rooted to the spot.
Jinn steps closer, his voice low and mocking. “So, it’s true. I heard you’re pregnant with my baby.”
Confusion crashes through me. How could he know? I shake my head, struggling to speak. “How do you?—?”
He laughs, cold and mean. “Marcy. She’s always been a stupid, emotional fool. Soon as she found out, she texted me. Begged me to meet her, told me everything.”
He glances at Marcy, curled and helpless in the dirt, then looks back at me, a twisted smile spreading across his face. “I just had to come and see it for myself.”
Anger, fear, and heartbreak tangle in my chest as I stare at him, this man I once thought I loved, now standing between me and my sister, as dangerous as ever.
I force my voice out, shaky but defiant. “Let her go, Jinn. Whatever you want, it’s between you and me.”
He just laughs again, the sound echoing off the trees. “When she called me, I almost didn’t believe it. I knew I’d been careful. I don’t make mistakes. But I just had to come and see. But it’s not true, is it? The baby isn’t even mine.”
My throat dries. “She wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sneers.
He circles me like a predator, a cruel smile twisting his mouth. I see the glint of metal in his hand and swallow hard. He has a knife. “I just wanted to see how far you’d go, Carrie. You always said you hated lies, but you’re the biggest liar of all, aren’t you? You told me you loved me, then you spread your legs for every man in that clubhouse. Was it just for the thrill? Or do you like being passed around?”
“Fuck you,” I say. “You cheated on me. And you broke the trust of the men who followed you blindly.”
“I used to dream you’d stay loyal, Carrie. That you’d be the only one who didn’t want something from me. But look at you now. You’re just as selfish as the rest. You think I don’t knowwhat you’ve been up to with those guys?” He spits the last word, anger bleeding into every syllable.
