by Frankie Rose
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I am miserable all day, but thankfully I don’t have to deal with any company. Luke drops me home—another silent car journey—and when I get back to the apartment Leslie is already gone. I tumble back into bed, knowing there’s no way I am making class today. I haven’t missed a single class since the semester began, and now I’ve ruined that perfect record because… I don’t want to think why. It’s too painful.
When I wake up six hours later, Leslie’s standing over my bed pulling a pretty disgusted face. “It stinks like a brewery in here. Why does our whole apartment stink like a brewery?”
I groan and pull the covers up over my head. She drags them off me despite my feeble attempts to cling onto them and points to the door.
“Shower. Right now.”
She opens the windows as I gather up my towel and wash bag. My bedroom is freezing cold by the time I came back freshly scrubbed. Admittedly, I do feel a whole lot better now that it doesn’t taste like something crawled into my mouth and died while I slept.
“Your phone rang,” Leslie says, pointing at my cell. It lays on top of my bed, where it appears Leslie has stripped my sheets and replaced them with some of my fresh bedding.
I cringe. “Was it that bad?”
She smirks at me and slams the window closed. “Worse.”
I have four missed calls from Morgan. For some reason I’d expected to hear from Luke, but there’s nothing. I text Morgan and tell her I’m too ill to meet her for coffee. She replies almost immediately:
Morgan: I know some guy paid Melissa Collins fifty bucks to find out which apartment was yours. You’d better call me right now! I need details.
I turn my phone off and hide it back under my pillow.
The rest of the night is spent wondering how much I’ve missed in my classes. I eventually get around to replying to Brandon’s email. I don’t really know where to begin at first. I start out determined not to mention what Luke told me about the Wyoming Ripper and Colby Bright’s accusations, but that resolve lasts all of five seconds.
Hey, Uncle B.
Thanks for the offer but I don’t think I can face coming back there just yet. Maybe you could come to the city? We could rent an apartment and go ice-skating or something. I know you hate it here, but it would be better than sitting back at the house moping. I’ll even watch the game with you!
So, I need you to confirm something for me. I met up with Luke Reid last night, and he told me what’s been going on back in Break. Is it true? Does everyone think Dad killed all those girls? I know there’s no real way to know what happened with those men that day, but he would never have attacked teenaged girls. They were the same age as me! There’s just no way. Please tell me no one’s listening to Mayor Bright.
Love you,
Avery.
I should make more of an effort to reassure Brandon; I know he worries about me. I should tell him how much I’m enjoying college and about the new friends I’ve made, but I don’t have the energy. The nightmare from four and a half years ago is still replaying in even the brightest aspects of my life, and I’m never going to escape it. I go to sleep with my heart pounding in my chest, unable to escape the feeling that something terrible is looming on the horizon, about to ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to build for myself.
Four
Noah
