“Jesus.” My eyes find Nash, whose jaw clenches, anger and sorrow flashing in his eyes. “Sloan, that’s… that’s horrifying.”
“It was,” I continue, my voice barely a whisper. “I was trapped in a dark, silent, and cold room. The isolation, the constant monitoring, the cold, and the fear… I… it fucking broke me.”
Hunter squeezes me to him without stopping the comforting movement of his hand brushing over my head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he says softly in my ear.
Tears are still running down my cheeks, but I press on, needing to share the full extent of what I’ve been through now I have started. “Th-they kept insisting I was hallucinating, that I was making up everything. That I wascrazy.” I whisper the last word, and North’s eyes flicker with recognition when he steps back. I can see how his mind is in turmoil. But I won’t be considerate of his feelings in the matter, as much as he wasn’t considerate of mine. “I was cold, I was in pain, and I felt completely abandoned.”
“Why did they put you in there?” Hunter asks, the stroking on my back never stopping.
I clench my jaw, looking at Saylor, who is watching me intently. “Because before all that, before they broke me, I was helping people. I was helping spirits and their loved ones. Helping ghosts find the light. Doing readings.”
Nash and North stiffen up, and I’m unsure if they are having a hard time believing me again or if it just reminds them of what I did for Jessica.
“Before?” Nash asks, looking confused. “You don’t do that anymore?”
“I swore never to help any spirit again after what I’ve been through after what wanting to help has brought me.”
“But you helped Jessie and Lio.” North’s brows touch as he seems to make sense of what I’m saying.
I huff bitterly. “And look what making an exception has brought me.”
Hunter stiffens under me, but I’m still not done. I want to get this over with.
To get out of here.
Even if it feels so right.
Taking a steadying breath, I continue, my voice quivering but resolute, “I met a ghost, Stanley, who was murdered by our mayor because he knew too much about the corrupt stuff Mayor Thomson was involved in. Stanley told me the mayor was threatening his family, and he needed my help to save them. His wife and daughter were in danger and were being watched by the mayor’s people.”
North and Nash exchange glances, but I ignore them, continuing the story to get everything out. “I pretended to be a pizza delivery girl to enter the mayor’s house. I had evidence to bring him down from Stanley. When I threatened to expose him, he told me he called off the surveillance on Stanley’s family.” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “I thought I got away with it, that I had handled it all on my own, but I was wrong. I underestimated the danger, and a few days later, they came and got me.”
North clenches his fists, anger and guilt etched across his face. “They got you?”
I nod, my tears flowing faster. “They practically kidnapped me out of my nan’s house. Nan was sick, and she couldn’t help me, but she called our lawyers and made sure that they got me out of there. It took her three months.”
“You were in this institution forthree months?” Nash asks, shocked.
I nod again, feeling the tears running down my face even faster. “Nan died two weeks before I got out. She came to say goodbye, but still. She died while I was in Hell.”
“The dream you had, the memory,” Nash realizes, his eyes wide.
“Now that you’re out, is he still after you?” North asks, his brows furrowed, and it’s like he’s switched to business mode now that there is a problem for him to solve.
“No. At least I don’t think so. They don’t know where I am. I got out of the institution, took six months to sell the house andeverything we owned, fixed the van, and then made a road trip across the country for another six months. It would be a miracle if they even knew where I was now.”
“And Stanley’s family, are they safe?” he asks, tilting his head.
I deflate a little. “I’ve no idea. I tell myself they are, that all of it was worth it. But I haven’t seen or spoken to them since.”
“What was his last name? Stanley, what?” North demands to know.
“Why? Want to make sure I’m not lying?” I ask, my hackles rising again as I push myself off Hunter, this time for real, and he lets me go easily. I stand with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Just tell me,” North demands once more, his gaze fixed on me.
“Stanley Walters, he lived in San Francisco,” I hiss out while I grab my bag. “Have fun figuring out if the crazy girl is a liar after all,” I tell him, marching out of the house without looking back.
And none of them follow me, except for Saylor.
