“I’m not lying. She wanted to lose her fucking virginity, she let me take it. I don’t know why he got all pissy when she chose me. That’s not my fault.”
I feel like I’m going to throw up. Why the hell would Deck get upset at him for that. Why would that have caused them to argue in the locker room?
“Honestly, I didn’t even want to fuck that bitch. I just did it because it was the next best thing to deflowering your pretty little cunt.”
My feet are moving, closing the distance between him and I. He watches me, his eyes growing wide the closer I get. I lean down, picking up a broken stick from the ground and jamming it into the open wound on his upper thigh.
“Arghhh! You fucking bitch!” He falls over, yanking the stick from his wound and pressing his palms over it, rocking back and forth.
I lean down, getting to his level before reaching for the back of his head. I grip his hair in my fist and yank his head back. “Where were you on the night of their murders?”
He scoffs. “That’s funny. Where were you? Or can you not remember?”
Indignation washes over me, feeling helpless to the truth he just spoke. I can’t remember and it’s not fucking fair. I close my eyes, feeling a visceral need to either remember everything or forget it all, but I’m tormented with bits and pieces, drowning in faded truths and forced to figure out the missing parts myself.
“Trace,” Broden speaks, his words sounding more frayed than before. I open my eyes to see that his are closed as he starts leaning over in pain.
“Trace what?” I ask, tightening my grip on his hair.
“He’s the one who did this to me.” My heart stops, feeling the weight of his words caress me in an iniquitous way.Trace did this? Why?
“And since I’m going to die anyway…” he coughs up blood as I watch his eyes fade. “Tyre and Jett. Those are the names he’s looking for.”
So much flits through my mind. What the fuck is he talking about? What is going on? What do they have to do with anything? And why did Trace do this to Broden?
“Hm,” Broden chuckles, letting blood spew from his mouth. I look down at him to see what he has to say. “You really are pretty, Olivia. I’m starting to see what all the fuss is about,” he says sarcastically and I can’t take it anymore, I need to let it out.
I tighten my fingers, pushing his head forward before throwing it back, slamming it into the trunk of the tree.
He goes silent, body slumping over as a slow and final groan escapes his lips. Satisfaction bubbles in my chest but only for a moment, feeling a relief to needingto let out my anger. But when I realize that he really isn’t moving, my body freezes up, panic rising in my throat. Is he dead? Did I just kill him?
I reach in, and press my finger into his neck where his pulse would be, trying to see if he’s still breathing, but nearly gag when I touch a sticky stream of half-dried blood instead. I fall back, turning and catching myself on my palms as I start to hyperventilate. Mud and snow crawling over my fingers as I dig them into the earth, needing to cleanse them of his blood.
“Goddamn, that was hot, Reckless. Way to make a guy fuckin' hard.” My head snaps up, seeing Trace, mask in hand, walking toward me from the front of the haunted house.
I let my head fall as I take in a deep breath before deciding to pick myself up. I look between him and Broden’s unmoving body. Snow melting into the blood stains that cover him.
“He’s only knocked out,” Trace says as he approaches, likely seeing the worry in my eyes, or feeling it as it exudes off me.
I can’t even speak. How does he know he’s only passed out? He looks dead to me. Tears well in my eyes, fire burns in my core. My vision starts to blur as my head starts to spin all at once and I feel like I could…
“Hey.” Trace’s voice feathers over me, his hand reaching out to my face. I hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close. He grips my chin and twists my head to face him, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch is protective and his words come out gentle. “You didn’tkill him, Olivia. He’s not dead.” Trace turns around and kicks Broden’s body, turning him onto his back. “See?”
I look down and see the subtle form of fog leave his parted lips. He’s breathing.
“But he won’t be alive for long,” Trace adds but I don’t listen to his words, only caring about the part that I didn’t actually kill him. He won’t die because of me.
And that’s when it hits me. Trace did this to him. The head wound, the gash in his leg, the broken nose. Only a monster could inflict that kind of damage. And when? I just saw Broden yesterday, less than twenty-four hours ago, and he was fine. And now…
I step away from Trace, his hand falling from my face. And as I look down at the body by our feet, I stumble backward. Losing my footing on a rooted branch.
Trace tries to catch me, but I flail my arms out his reach, knocking his mask out of his hand.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I warn him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he fucking killed everyone.
Broden’s words swarm me aggressively. No. He wouldn’t do that. My brother. His sister. Trace wouldn’t. He couldn’t have. But he did this. I know that much.
