He places a rough kiss on my lips, and I force my mouth to numbly kiss him back. When he finishes, he pulls back and looks me in the eye.
“Don’t ever fucking use my name in that,” he says, his tone carrying a warning. “You can write about me fucking you all you want, but don’t ever write my name.”
I nod, fear pulsating through me.
Why does it feel like he knows the truth?
No, I have to be being paranoid again.
But what if I’m not?
What if he knows?
He’ll probably kill me.
20
AVA
My skin burns where the cuffs were put on me, even after they’re removed. I almost had a meltdown when the officer slapped them on me, but I managed to breathe through it, although my inhales and exhales were erratic. The officer looked at me like I was spun out and losing my mind. I loathed it—getting stared at like that, because it’s how I’ve been looked at for most of my life.
It made me question everything, and that feeling of spiraling returned. I just about broke, but I didn’t, and that’s what I’m latching onto as I sit behind these bars. The air is heavy with the foul stench of sweat and booze, even though no one else is in the cell with me. I’m unsure where Camilla is, or if she was even brought to jail. They’d arrested her, but after what she’d told me, I wonder if she was released. This was all pretty much a setup, and now I’m going to have drug possession charges against me, even though I wasn’t in possession of any. I’m waiting to call someone to bail me out, but I’m unsure who to call. Clara? Ellis? Where did Ellis even end up?
And what about everything Camilla told me? Was it all a façade? The fact that I’m behind bars right now should have me convinced every word she uttered was a razor of lies. However, Isaw her face, and in her eyes, I saw fear, regret, and anger. It was real. And she said it was. She said she found a way to tell me the truth. But why? Why would she do that?
I’m not certain. What I am certain of, though, is that if she was telling the truth, then that means my father dated her, and that he’s part of what happened in the woods.
God, what if that’s true…
My mind wanders back to the day I met Ellis in the café. The waitress working there was a girl I knew from high school. Her name is Tess, and she’d acted as if my father’s death was a good thing.
“Well, I wonder if she’ll be okay with people coming and saying their two cents about what a piece of shit your father was.”
She said those words to me after I’d told her about how my mother was having a memorial for my father. If I get out of here, perhaps I can talk to her about that. Maybe that’ll help me gather more evidence to prove what my father was involved in.
Camilla had used the word "hunted."
Is this group hunting people?
Was my father hunting people?
I run through the branches and trees as they shout my name.
Not they. Trystan. My cousin.
“Ava!” he shouts. “You can’t get away from this. It’s part of you!”
I keep running all the way to my house where my parents are waiting. Neither one of them looked surprised by my frantic state, as if they already expected me to arrive this way.
My stomach churns as I sit on the cold bench with my back against the wall. I try to latch on to every detail of the memories that are filling my mind. These aren’t forgotten memories, though. I’ve always been able to recall how calm my father wasthat day as he sat at the table with his phone in his hand, dazing off in deep thought. I had, and have always, assumed that it was my father being his cold, uncaring self. What if it was deeper than that? Like he knew I was coming because Trystan told him?
Then what? He headed out to the woods, and that’s where he met Camilla?
It could be possible. For days after I escaped the woods, my mother kept me locked in the basement, so I don’t know if my father was home or not.
I lower my head into my hands and massage my temples. I need to get out of here. I need to figure this out before something else awful happens.
Sucking in a breath via my nose, I push to my feet and approach the bars. The Star Meadows police station is small enough that the soft chatter of voices flows from the desk stations and back to the cell. Not that anyone is visible. But I know officers are around. I think I’m being ignored.
