“Do you think someone knows what we did?” Eleanor asked, her fingers trembling slightly as they rested on the table.
“We should’ve gone to the police.” Delilah shook her head.
“We all know we couldn’t have done that.” Lilia ran the edge of her thumb along her cup.
The group fell silent, the only noise the soft hum of the air conditioning overhead.
“I was going to tell you guys,” Lilia pressed.
“Debatable.” Sebastian snorted, leaning back against the cool booth. “We’re all a bit too acquainted with lying. The chances of us telling the truth—let alone to each other—are about as possible as a penguin flying.”
“Lay off, Sebastian.” Augustus glared.
“Am I lying?” He raised his brow. “You’re going to sit here and tell me that you didn’t lie through your pretty boy teeth during your interview? That you told about that night, that we fucking?—”
“Please stop.” Lilia’s voice was hollow. “Arguing isn’t solving anything. It doesn’t change the fact that our friend is dead—someone murdered her. And the police are going out of their way to connect us to her death. So yes, we lied. We had no choice but to. It’s what Willow would’ve wanted us to do. It was an accident.”
“Who gives a damn what Willow wants? She’s dead. She won’t go down for anything we did. But we will. But then again, that’s what she always wanted, isn’t it?” Sebastian sneered.
Willow Montgomery was a presence. She had this ability to make you feel completely on top of the world—unshaken. She would build you up just to tear you down to get what she wanted. She was magnetic that way.
Addictive.
There was a stillness in the air after his words.
“Do you guys remember that night?” Eleanor glanced out the window as she spoke.
“She was so happy that day, so carefree,” Delilah said.
“Yeah, maybe that was the issue,” Sebastian muttered.
“We should’ve told someone what happened.” Delilah’s eyes bored into the table.
“We couldn’t have, no matter how much we wanted to. We were all completely wasted that night. It wouldn’t have gone over well for any of us—least of all Willow.”
“I can still hear it.” Eleanor’s voice was haunted. “Every time I close my eyes. All I can hear is the sound of his freaking body hitting the glass—Willow screaming. No amount of therapy or good deeds is ever going to make that go away.”
“So, what—you think someone, whoever sent the text, knows about that night? Is that what you’re saying, Lilia?” Augustus asked, shifting the conversation.
“I don’t know,” Lilia said, “I can’t think right now.”
“No one else knows about that night, and the only other person who does is dead,” Delilah said gravely.
Eleanor shook her head. “We are so screwed.”
“We don’t know that. For all we know, it’s some joke. Someone is trying to scare us,” Augustus attempted to calm her. Eleanor had always been anxious.
“Why would someone be trying to scare us?”
“We’re friends with the girl who went missing and then died. We’ve been subjected to public scrutiny for months. The world is full of sick freaks. It could be a joke.” Lilia hoped to God that it truly was a joke.
“Yeah, and what happens if it’s not?” Sebastian titled his head. “Should we all be expecting to receive some cryptic messages from the boogeyman? What do we do if someone does know what we did—then what?”
“We made the wrong decision that night,” Delilah finalized. “It doesn’t matter what you think, or what you say, nothing is going to make it better. Wekilledsomeone. We took someone’s life.”
“We didn’t do anything, Willow did,” Lilia reminded her.
“And we just sat there and covered for her as usual,” Delilah shot back.
