The room blurs at the edges. All I saw was the man in the ski mask, Axel on the ground, and the flash of movement behind myeyes as I tried to remember what happened. My chest tightens, my pulse slams in my ears, and I try to breathe.
No. It was Judas. It had to be.
I turn my head toward the nightstand. My phone is still there. I sit up slowly, reach for it, and open our messages.
I am sorry, little sister. Sorry, I had to leave.
“Leave?” I say out loud.
Catherine snatches the phone from my hands. Her eyes move fast, scrolling, reading. Her face hardens.
No, no, no.
“Carmen, what the fuck is going on?”
“I… I don’t know.” My gaze drops to the floor. “Last night I was out with Knox. I felt dizzy after a drink. The last thing I remember is waking up here.”
The lie tastes bitter in my mouth.
Her jaw tightens. She steps closer and thrusts the phone in front of my face. “That’s not what I am talking about.” The screen fills my vision, the image impossible to ignore. “Why is Judas sending you his penis?”
“It’s just a photo from online,” I say, too quickly.
Her finger flicks the screen. “One day you will beg me to fuck you.” She looks up at me, her voice rising. “Carmen, tell me what was going on. Now.”
I stand there, silent. The floor becomes the only thing I can look at.
“You have to delete all of this,” she says. “I went through his phone. There was nothing there.” She exhales. “We have to call the cops to help us find Judas, and if they ask for your phone, they can’t find this.”
I nod, because it is easier than speaking.
She is hiding something. I feel it.
“Anything else, Carmen?” she asks, her eyes searching my face.
“No,” I say.
The doorbell rings downstairs, and her head tilts towards the open door.
“Stay here,” she says, already turning away. “Delete them now.”
Her footsteps fade down the stairs.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the messages on my phone. My chest is in pain, like every word I delete takes a piece of me with it. I try to call him, my thumb hovering over his name, and then I remember what she said. His phone is still in his room.
“Where are you, Judas?” I whisper to the empty air.
My eyes burn, tears blurring the screen.
Favorite people do not leave their favorite people.
They can’t. They don’t.
This has to be a dream. I pinch my skin, hard. The sting hurts, but the room doesn’t change.
My chest tightens as I lie back down, the phone resting against my ribs while I keep deleting. Tears spill from the corners of my eyes and slide into my hair.
He can’t leave.
