Chapter One
Sailor
It’s been over a month, and I still think about him every day. Multiple times a day.
It’s an obsession.
When is it going to stop?
Never, it seems. No matter what I do, there he is. Waiting for me.
In my dreams, all I see is Jaxon. When I close my eyes. When I open them. He’s everywhere, and no matter what I do, I can’t get him to leave me alone.
Like a ghost, he haunts me. It’s never going to stop.
I can’t get past this, I can’t get over it, I just can’t let him go.
But I have to. I have to try because I can’t live like this. I can’t be involved with someone like him, who is twisted up in this dark world where death is not only normal but some sort of requirement. You mess up? You’re done. There are no slaps on the wrist or calls to the police station. Your life is ended… just like that. As simple as a shove off a cliff or a bullet through your brain.
How do people live like that?
When I first met Jaxon, I was scared of what I felt for him. My thoughts didn’t make sense, the way I was drawn to him and his darkness, but then he tricked me into not just accepting it, but liking it—into thinking it was okay to give into those dark thoughts… and look where that got me.
A witness—no, potentially an accessory!—to murder.
I worry every day that someone is going to knock on the door That when I open it, police will be on the other side waiting with handcuffs and furious looks of disgust knowing what I did, what I was a part of… what I let happen. And I wouldn’t blame them for it because I’m disgusted with myself too. I allowed someone to die. I allowed a life to end.
Jaxon said it was necessary, that they wouldn’t stop if he didn’t kill them, but there are other options. We have other options for a reason! He didn’t even have to be involved; I could have gone to the cops on my own. Made up a story about getting myself free… we could have chosen another road, but he didn’t allow me to help in the planning process. He’d already made up his mind before he found me. He knew what he was going to do well before he did it.
I check news articles every day, wondering if my face will be on a wanted page. There’s nothing yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. They won’t have suspects until they have a body, or until they know someone is missing. There’s been nothing about Mindy missing in the first place. I assume if someone knew she was missing, they’d post it on the school website or in the newsletter—definitely on the news. But it’s almost like… she didn’t exist. Like there’s no one out there to miss her, and that’s really sad.
Pulling the blankets over my head to hide from the world, I unlock my phone and open Instagram. I tap on the search bar and then the name at the top—my most recent search.
Her page pops up, and the first few rows of pictures are of just her. Selfies she took—in the mirror, in her car, lying in her bed. She’s flawless in each picture. Beautifully toned skin with not a single blemish. Thick eye lashes, perfectly shaped eyebrows. Full lips. High cheek bones. A straight nose. Shiny hair that I bet never looks greasy or frizzy.
I scroll further down, and then I see him. I see them.Together.
But that isn’t the version of him I know. That’s not my Jaxon.
What am I even saying? There is nomyJaxon. If there was, I wouldn’t be here. We’d be together, back at my house, like we were before. We’d be—it doesn’t matter.
I keep scrolling, looking through the photos of them. Mindy and Jaxon. He isn’t smiling in a single one of them, just standing there like a statue while Mindy poses around him like he’s her prop. They look good together despite Jaxon’s obvious foul mood.
Did she ever see him smile?
I did. Heard him laugh too.
Why does that matter?
It doesn’t.
Nothing about him matters. It can’t. Because we’re done. We’re over. And I never want to see him again. I can’t get mixed up in all of that mess… in the mess that is Jaxon—I don’t even know his last name. How sad is that?
I block the profile, then close out of the app and put my phone to sleep. Rolling onto my stomach, I bury my face in the pillow and breathe in the warm air.
A soft knock on the door has my eyes popping open and a sigh escaping me.
Staying here forever isn’t an option. I need to go home, but… can I do that safely?
