The door swings open.
Tim walks in first. Then Josh. Then Caleb.
The whole friend group.
My bullies.
And just like that, my stomach drops.
“What is this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level. But inside, I can already feel something unraveling.
Tim smirks, voice scratchy with leftover smoke and cruelty.
“What do you think it is? The graduation party just ended. We figured we’d keep the celebration going.”
I force a shrug. “Cool. Then I guess this is my cue to leave.”
I slip the ziplock back into my bag and zip it shut. My camera is still where I left it—wedged behind the cactus on the window ledge, it’s a pocket-sized camera, so it’s tucked just enough to go unnoticed. I’ll come back for it later. Midnight, maybe, when I know this place will be empty.
With everything in me. I walk across the creaky floor toward the door.
Their eyes track me like I’m prey.
Caleb is already there, standing in front of the exit like a wall. He’s the biggest of them—broad shoulders, long arms. Taller than me by a good head. I lift my chin and glare up at him.
“Move,” I say through my teeth.
He doesn’t. Just stands there, smug and silent. Behind me, the others laugh—too loud, too familiar, like this is all one big inside joke and I’m the punchline.
Even Nate laughs.
I whip my head toward him, heart sinking.
“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to apologize?” I ask, voice sharp now, trying to hold on to something—anger, disbelief, anything to keep the fear from showing.
He looks at me like I’m pathetic. Like I missed the joke.
“I’m not apologizing for something I wanted to do, Lucas,” he says, folding his arms.
Then, with the coldest smirk I’ve ever seen, he adds,
“I told you. I need to know what that mouth of yours can do.”
FORTY-FOUR
LUCAS
Five years ago
“What does that even mean?” I ask, eyes narrowing. His words make no damn sense. He wants to know what my mouth can do? What kind of sick, twisted—
Before I can finish that thought, Tim is on me.
His hand fists my hair so fast I barely react before he’s yanking it hard and flinging me across the room like I’m made of paper. I hit the floor with a loud thud, wood biting into my ribs, breath knocked out of my lungs. Their laughter erupts, echoing around the treehouse like a cage tightening around me.
I blink up at him through the haze, my vision swimming, but I’m not crying. I refuse.
Tim strides closer, crouching low until his face is inches from mine. The look in his eyes is cold. Cruel.
