I rush toward it at my bedside, hoping that it’s my dad but instead I’m greeted with a text from an unknown number.
My brows pinch up in confusion as I open it, seeing that I still have zero bars and absolutely no cell phone service. And then my heart freezes and tremors all at the same time when I realize who it’s from.
how does it feel to be edged again, little reckless? u must be wound so fucking tight. I can take care of it, you know? just need u to fucking beg for it first
And then another text comes through.
don’t forget ur rings, love. might need ‘em later
I didn’t respond to him. I didn’t know how. But now as I walk with Alli through the forest toward the fire pit where the breakfast is supposed to be happening, staring at what he’d said to me, I can’t help but type out…
You’re fucking sick. Do you have cameras in my fucking room, Trace?
I send the text. The snow crunches beneath our feet and even from out here, we can hear voices carrying in front of us in whispered echoes. But right as I attempt to put my phone away, it pings again.
why baby? do u like the idea of being watched?
Where the fuck are you, coward?
come find me
Fuck you, asshole!
u know I can practically hear u screaming my name and it makes me fucking hard, Livie
“Helllooo?” Alli’s voice breaks me from the little bubble I’m in which I somewhat appreciate because I was starting to feel my blood boil, both with hatred and desire. But then I realize that she’d been talking the whole time I’ve been zoned out.
“Shit. Sorry, girl. What were you saying?”
I shove my phone away not wanting to give any more attention to Trace; my growing anger for him expanding like a water balloon.
Alli repeats herself, talking about her night with Banks and after about twenty minutes of walking, we approach the fire pit where dozens of other people are already congregating. Some are eating breakfast, others are just talking.
He’s here. I know he is. I can feel his eyes on me. He’s gotta be close by. Or maybe I’m wrong and he’s just got other people watching me. My body doesn’t feel on fire like it does when he really is nearby. But as I scan the faces surrounding me, no one looks my way; no one is watching me.
Damn it. He’s really starting to ensue actual paranoia in me.
Alli breaks off for the pancake table but I’m too anxious and distracted to eat right now. I decide to pull out my phone and try to send a text to my dad. But despite sending it and resending it, it still comes back as undelivered.
How the fuck was Trace able to text me?
I get curious and decide to test it; typing out a message to him.
Tell me where you are.
But it also comes back as undelivered.
I groan in frustration as I slide my phone back into my pocket. Trace can’t be far, right? But I don’t see any sign of him as I make my way through the clearing of trees and away from the majority of the crowd.
I feel a slight pang of disappointment. How is it that he seems to always have eyes on me, but he’s always out of sight?
My boots sink into the compacted snow as I pull my beanie down a little lower to keep the chill from hitting my ears, annoyed that I didn’t pack a thick enough coat to ward off the biting cold that’s also sweeping through my chunky, cable-knit sweater. I decide to head back over to the fire pit for warmth, trying todecipher what makes this weekend so special. Why I’ve been seemingly lured into the Pines this weekend over any other. Even my gut was guiding me here.
So far all I’ve got is one new memory from that night, a very ominous note that decidedly implicates me for something—something I have no recollection of—and a ghost from the past haunting me. It’s not nearly enough for me to unveil anything new. Though, of course, one thing that still rewinds in my mind is the knowledge I have on Broden. He’s the only one I can truly think of who might have had ill will toward my brother. And after recalling his ties with Seren, he might be the only real lead I have, not that it’s much. But he seems to be slightly connected to all four victims in some way or the other, and when I try to rack my brain for any recollection of him being in the Pines the weekend of the murders, I come up short.
I have to figure out if he was there and if he knows anything. Someone here has to know something. I have a feeling, without a shadow of a doubt, someone here is guilty. The killer is here and I know I have to find them before the weekend is over.
Then a thought hits me. I got an invite. I can’t be too sure if anyone else did but maybe the person who sent me the invite is the same person who left me the note. The same note I keep crumpled up, now burning a hole in my pocket. What if they think I did something? What if they know something? What if they wanted me up here to play with me, to taunt me. But who could it have been and why?
