My pulse thuds in my ears, in my stomach, and in my fucking fingers as I read the note over and over again.
I know what you did.
I know what you did.
I know what you did.
No. WhatIdid?
What did I do?
I flip the paper over, trying to find anything else. But that’s all it says.
Five words. Five fucking words that cause the mayhem in my mind to radicate actual vomit-inducing fear.
Is this meant for me? Or…
Someone knows what I did. But I don’t even fucking know what I did.
But now I know without a doubt that someone wanted me here.
But the real question is . . .dead or alive?
14
TRACE
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just gonna bash your brains in.” — Jack Torrance, The Shining (1980)
I don’t know who to go to. I know no one will believe me. No one ever fucking believes the pretty girl with the short skirt and a reputation for flirting. To them, I probably asked for it. And maybe I did. Maybe I even deserved it. I should hate myself. I do. But I have to believe that it’s not my fault. I only drank so much because I wanted Deck’s attention. I never imagined that he would do something to hurt me even more than he already had. Not like this. I thought heactually loved me. I thought we had something. I mean, I know things were rocky between us and I know why but I still didn’t expect this from him. Why? What did I do to deserve what he and his friends did to me? Why did I deserve to be raped? Did they think it was funny? What have I ever done to them? And it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it, because even though I know there were at least three of them, or maybe four, I only have two names. Declan, because I know he was there. Broden, because I heard his name. And the worst part of it all is that they’re the only two boys I’ve ever slept with and they both belong on the fucking football team. Prized possessions. Everyone will take their sides. If only I had opened my eyesjust once. If only I wasn’t so drunk, I’d be able to identify the others. If only I didn’t try to fight back, maybe they wouldn’t have completely knocked me out. But at least I can say I think I made one of them bleed. But I hate myself for allowing them to take advantage of me. To break me. I feel so fucking empty and I just
I read the unfinished page over and over, holding the tattered journal that started this all; my craving to spill fucking blood. It's dated October 2nd from four years ago, and to this day, I still see red every time I look over the words, seeing the deep pen marks; the thick scribbles due to her rage. I can feel her pain when I read it. She was hurting when she wrote it. And she dealt with this all alone.
The fury I felt reading it for the first time was probably worse than finding out that someone had killed her. Especially because the adjoining pagehas been ripped from the journal and the pain of not knowing what it said eats at me every fucking day.
I knew my sister was going through something back then and I knew she didn’t want to talk about it. But I could have done more to help her and I didn’t. I didn’t and that guilt rips me apart. And then I started to wonder if maybe she didn’t want to tell me because both of the boys she named were my teammates. But I would have fucking believed her. And she’ll never know that because she died believing no one would believe her.
Someone raped my little sister.
Up until six months ago when I found the journal, I had no leads as to who could have done it. She names two people in the journal entry from the night of that party. Deck and Broden. One of which is already dead. And what’s more concerning is that she states there were more involved in her assault. But I finally have something to go off after all these years and that’s why I’m here. I crave to avenge her death. A death that never needed to happen had I pushed her harder to talk to me back then.
I close my eyes and recall our last moment together, the time she begged me to let her go up to the Pines…
“I’m not little anymore, Trace. You can’t stop me from going to the Pines this weekend.”
Little? Sure, not so much. But Seren is still my responsibility and I can’t let anything happen to her. Mom and Dad aren’t around right now to care one way or the other, but that’s why I have to put my foot down and try and keep her from getting into trouble. Then again, what kind of role model am I that I’m going up to the Pines while making her stay here.
“I said no. You didn’t even get an invite, so you can’t go,” I say flatly, knowing damn well that I made sure her invitation made it to the trash before she got ahold of it and also hoping that for once in her life she won’t argue with me. But she’s a Kavanaugh and we typically always get our way.
“Those invites don’t mean shit and you know it. Everyone goes up with or without one. Besides, you’re a fucking Cutthroat, Traceykins. Who’s going to tell you no if I show up by your side?” Seren leans up against the doorframe leading to my bedroom. Her hands are crossed over her chest and her dirty blonde hair—the exact same shade as my own—falls straight over her shoulders.
“Do not call me that fucking name,” I demand as I move from one side of the room to the other, making sure I have all I need for this weekend.
“Traceykins?” She teases with a sarcastic pout. “It’s a cute nickname.”
“Seren.” I turn to pin my eyes on her, warning her that now is not the time for her shit.
“Trace, please. If you don’t take me then I’ll have to sneak up there with someone I don’t know. And I don’t think you want that on your conscience.” She pauses and feigns a frightened look on her face beforecontinuing. “What if I hitchhike with, like, a murderer or something?”
