Dead Girls Don't Keep Secrets

by Ames B Winterbourne

  I heard my brother’s footsteps as he ran into the room. “Holy …” The sheer horror in his voice as it trailed off petrified me, and I started to heave again, dropping to my knees into the pool of bile and blood.

  “Lake!” he cried out to me. I was too close to the body. I knew it, and he knew it. He instinctively grabbed me and pulled me back to the doorway. I couldn’t stop crying and calling out her name.

  Linc grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. He begged me to breathe as his own tears dripped down his face. “Lake, I need you to stop. I need you to breathe.” My body racked with sobs. He gave up. He let go of me and said, “S-stay right here.” He ran out of the room, leaving me with our dead mother. I glanced down at myself and screamed in horror at the sight of my soaked clothes.

  I heard my brother screaming at someone on the phone that his mom was hurt. He sounded just as frightened as I felt. When he got off the phone, he ran back to me and whispered my name through his own sobs. “Lake.”

  “Lake.” No. It isn’t Linc’s voice. It’s Ryder’s.

  I blink my eyes open. Tears stream down my face like the rain that’s beginning to pour down from the sky.

  “Mom,” I sob.

  Ryder’s shaking me, trying to bring me back to the present.

  “Lake? What happened?”

  “The images are so alike. The person who k-killed Felicia really did kill my mom,” I stammer. Everything inside me screams to make the pain stop.

  I turn back to my mom’s file and skim through it until I find the medical examiner’s report. They’re practically identical, save for the water damage. “No,” I breathe.

  “What?”

  “This can’t be right.” I scan the report, hoping I misread something. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What, Lake?”

  “Years after Mom’s death, my dad told me she had been raped.”

  Ryder doesn’t say anything.

  “It doesn’t make sense …” I think back to Mr. Crane and his love for my mother. How she was his first, how she cheated on my dad at least once. “It doesn’t …”

  “Lake—”

  “It was late. I thought she would be asleep.”

  “Lake.” Ryder doesn’t sound surprised.

  “It says there were no signs of rape. It says it was consensual.” I want to throw up again at the other detail. The detail I don’t ever want to imagine. I turn to the next picture. Next to my mom’s body is a thousand dollars. Ryder doesn’t say anything in response.

  “Felicia and my mom were the same. They were so very much—” I peek at him. “She cheated on my dad.” It hurts. My mother doing something like this to my father is unthinkable. They were so in love, and yet she’d been screwing other men behind his back.

  I glance in Ryder’s direction. Though he’s staring straight out the window, his mouth’s set in a firm line. He doesn’t look surprised at all.

  “She really was a whore.” My voice cracks.

  Ryder doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. It’s like he’s been waiting for me to say it. I don’t look at him. I don’t argue with him.

  I think back to when I was younger, when we were having a hard time with money and Dad was away a lot, needing space to write. Though they always seemed close, my parents weren’t as lovey-dovey anymore. I didn’t think much of it, but Linc wasn’t quiet about his resentment toward our mother. One time, he even went as far as to say she was pushing us all away and destroying our family. Most nights while Dad was away, Mom would go out with her girlfriends. She always came back looking worn out. Sometimes she would come into my room and give me a kiss goodnight, but I’d push her away because she smelled funny, like cheap cologne and booze. She was always dejected. It didn’t help that my brother would barricade himself in his room and pretend he didn’t have a mother. I had no idea what she was doing, but now I understand. I know exactly why my brother pretended she wasn’t his mother. I know why my father berated her once for putting herself and their children at risk.

  “Lake, talk to me,” Ryder pleads.

  “She cheated on my dad. Not just cheated. She whored herself out.” My words come out harsher than I imagined. Just the thought of my mother betraying her husband and family like that is too much.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ryder doesn’t tell me to calm down. He doesn’t attempt to say I’m wrong. He’s known all along. It’s cruel, and what’s worse is that I can hear the pity in his voice.

  I eye Ryder. Just moments ago, I thought he cared about me. That he wanted to help me with this. Now all I can think of is how cruel he truly is. This must all just be a sick joke to him and Felicia. What irks me the most is the crease that forms between his eyebrows. He looks plagued with concern, but I know the reality.

  I want to yell at him. I want to make him hurt just as much as I do. But I’m too tired, and my body’s too limp. I’m out of energy. “Take me home,” I whisper.

  “What?” He sounds surprised.

  “I’m done, Ryder. I want to go home. I want to be alone,” I whisper. I don’t want to talk anymore. Or do anything at all. I just want to go back to Wednesday, when Felicia was pronounced dead, and a little part of me felt at peace. I wish I could go back and throw that letter she stuffed in my locker into the garbage. I have a little less than three months left of high school, and then another few months before I’ll be off at college, where I can have a fresh start.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t care. It’s what I want.”

  “My father would probably go there and interrogate you more. Probably worse. Because you talked to him, he could arrest you.”

  “My dad has money,” I state. “He can hire me a good lawyer.”

  “He’ll be furious when he finds out you talked to my dad. Let’s just figure this out before we—”

  I want to laugh. It’s funny how he continues to pretend to care about me. I’m so stupid. He and Felicia probably manufactured everything themselves. His own father sounds like he believed Ryder was screwing Felicia. I’m an idiot to believe anything else he says.

  “Please just stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop pretending like you really care.”

  He glares at me. “What are you talking about? Of course I care.”

  I can’t help the cruel laugh that comes from my mouth. “That’s pure fucking bullshit.”

  “What the hell, Lake? Of course I care about you! What’s the matter with you?”

  “What’s the matter with me?” I continue my humorless laughing fit. I’m becoming more hysterical than I ever imagined I could be. “What’s the matter with you? You pretend to care. You pretend to say you really care about me, all the while keeping from me that you knew this whole time Felicia and my mother were one in the same!”

  We’re still on the side of the road by the park. From what I can tell, my house is in the other direction from wherever Ryder’s been heading.

  “What are you doing? Where were you taking me?”

  “You have to snap out of this.” He doesn’t answer my question. I growl at him, taking note that his face is turning red with rage. “We’re too close to figuring this out. I can’t stop now. I want to know the truth.”

  “And I want to be just like everyone else. But you and Felicia have worked pretty hard these last four years to make sure that would never happen. And guess what? Even from the grave, she’s still messing with me.”

  “Lake, I’m sorry. I didn’t know for sure that your mom did that.” The words make me flinch. “But Felicia mentioned once that the two of them were similar when it came to dire situations.”

  “So, you just kept that from me? Don’t answer that.” My body’s exhausted, and all I want is to lie down. I don’t want to argue with him. I don’t want to figh
t. I just want to be left in peace. “I’m tired, Ryder. I don’t want to do this anymore. If you want to know so badly about what killed Felicia, find someone else to help you, because from everything that’s happened, it’s apparent that all of this was just a sick joke.”

  “Why? Because your mother was a prostitute? Because you’re consumed with not wanting to remember what happened? Felicia is dead because of this, Lake. Not everything is about you! I get that she bullied you, but do you really think she was evil enough to go that far?”

  His words are like a knife in my back. He’s been with me through everything. He’s seen what I’ve seen, and yet he claims it isn’t about me. The urge to hurt him, to make him suffer just as much as I have, is all consuming.

  “Like you don’t know! You bullied me for years, just like Felicia. While Felicia would alienate me, you would intentionally bother me and get on my nerves. Jeez, for the most part, I thought you weren’t as bad as her, but you’re worse! If you think I’d trust you after this, you’d have to be crazy. You both got off on making me suffer.”

  “I made you suffer?” He gives me an incredulous expression.

  “Don’t make me laugh. What else would you call stalking me just to make me feel inferior to you? Just to make me feel like an outcast. It’s bad enough that warranting any attention from Felicia made me the butt of every joke, but when you went out of your way to harass me …”

  I don’t know how he can think teasing me is okay. I don’t understand how he doesn’t realize what he’s done.

  “I once sat down in Mr. Crane’s classroom to find thumbtacks on my seat. While I bled, your little groupies giggled. All you do is poke fun at me day after day. How can you stand here and act like you don’t know? You are constantly baiting me. Constantly trying to fight with me. Felicia made me a joke, but you made me a target.”

  His face pales. “I didn’t know about those girls. I don’t tease you because I want to torture you.”

  “So, why do you tease me? You claim it’s because you like me or whatever, but you go around and screw girls right after you say it to me. That’s not something someone does when they like someone else. They don’t just go and do that. They don’t go and make their crush’s life a living hell. You follow me around, constantly asking me out, telling me you’ll show me a good time and that you could rock my world. You say shit like I’m the only one you’d ever settle down with and that you’d never look at another girl if it meant you could have me. And then you go screw half the female populace at school. And you expect all the girls you hook up with to just ignore it? If you said that to someone else, no one would bat an eye, but when you do it to me … your harassment causes people in the hall to stop and bully me. I also know you told lies about me to get other guys to leave me alone. You lied that I was a prude who had the hairiest bush in the school. That I don’t shave and that’s why I wear baggy clothes. I know what you do.”

  “I’ve never said that!”

  “Jessica’s said otherwise,” I snap.

  “Jessica? You’re going to listen to Jessica?”

  I ignore that. “Felicia did worse things to me. She made sure I didn’t have a single friend in school. She made sure I was completely alone. Do you know how alone I’ve felt for years?

  “Then the bitch got herself murdered and left me that stupid letter. I get that she didn’t have a perfect life. There is no such thing as perfect. I know that. But for fuck’s sake, she was blackmailing people left and right. She was destroying lives to get exactly what she wanted. To be honest, I never really believed you didn’t screw her. Even your father said so. You were probably her plaything. Maybe it pissed you off that your fuck buddy was banging your daddy, too. Hell, you could be her killer. This could all be some sort of warped game for you!”

  “Then explain the letter, Lake! Explain everything we’ve learned.”

  “I…”

  My chest heaves as I suck in air and blow it out. I look out the window and at the sky. It looks almost like twilight, not yet dark, but there’s no sun in sight. Rain pours from the sky, and big droplets cover the windshield completely. I can vaguely see streetlights flickering, as though there will be some sort of blackout. All the energy I had was lost when I finally finished my rant. I don’t feel bad about it, even though I know none of it makes sense. I’m losing my mind. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I just want to be a potato.

  He doesn’t say anything. It should bother me, but I’m actually relieved. I don’t want to hear him argue. At that moment, I hate Ryder Frost with my whole being, and I’m glad Felicia’s gone.

  When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, but there’s a hint of disgust. “You really think I’m that horrible, don’t you? That I could kill Felicia?”

  No. A voice in the back of my head whispers. Ryder would never kill Felicia. He’s not evil enough to play some sort of warped game with me. I want to tell him that, but the words are stuck in the back of my throat.

  There’s a beat and before I can say anything, he lets out a harsh, cruel laugh.

  “You know absolutely nothing about me, Lake. You are so oblivious to the world around you that you can’t see things clearly. You’re so blinded by your rage over your mom’s death that you forget everything we’ve been through these last few days. Everything we’ve seen.” He stops briefly before he hits his fist on the steering wheel. “You’re so frustrating!”

  I don’t respond. Instead, I let the silence flood the car. I hear the evening crickets chirp. The sound grows louder and louder as we sit there, not saying anything. My mind wanders to the time he’s talking about. It’s barely been four days since Felicia died. It’s all too much to take. I’m almost shocked the cops haven’t already found the killer, or even released the knowledge that it’s a murder. What are they even waiting for? I mean, most information from a murder is found the first few days after it takes place. Though, from the looks of it, the sheriff might have been covering up his tracks trying to frame me.

  I glance in Ryder’s direction, only to find him glaring back at me with fury in his eyes. They look like the clouds during a hurricane. I try not to let it bother me, though a small prickle of pain spikes through my chest. He almost looks like he hates me. In one day, he expects me to forget seven years of trauma.

  “You know, I thought after everything you’d finally understand my feelings for you. But you just don’t get it.”

  Every word that comes out of his mouth pisses me off more and more. I want to hurt him, just like he’s hurt me.

  “What’s there to get?” I say through gritted teeth.

  “All you do is spew bullshit after bullshit. You’re trying to make yourself feel better by making me feel like I’m nothing to you.” He doesn’t sound mad anymore. He sounds just as tired as me.

  “But you are nothing to me.” I know my words will hurt him. I also know they aren’t true, at least not now. A few days ago, I never would have thought I’d give two shits about Ryder Frost, but now … I want to hurt him.

  “That’s not true.” His voice cracks. “All that back there … that kiss. You know that was real, and yet you try not to believe it because you want to make others feel just as bad as you do.”

  “I don’t! I’m just telling you the truth! What are you trying to say? You never made up shit about me? Felicia was a perfect angel and didn’t try to ostracize me constantly throughout high school?”

  “I don’t know Felicia’s motive, but I know mine.” His voice softens. “It wasn’t to harm you.”

  “It wasn’t to harm me? So, making me a total outcast with no one to turn to, no one to talk to, was your attempt to not harm me? Jeez, all I had was my father and my aunt. Now that I know they both lied to me, made my mother out to be a saint when she was a whore, I can’t even trust them. You both ruined my life. You took the only good thing I had, the only goo
d memories of my mother, and made them lies.”

  I undo my seat belt and grab the door handle.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I notice his Adam’s apple bob.

  “I’m going home.”

  I throw open the door, but as I’m about to get out, he grabs my hand. I know he wants me to look into his eyes, probably to see the pain he’s feeling to make me weak, but I can’t. I won’t let him win. I’m done letting people like Felicia and Ryder control me.

  “I’m not going to let you walk home with a killer on the loose. What if the person gets you? What if Mr. Crane or Miss Kemper drives by and wants to give you a ride?”

  I pull out my cellphone from my back pocket. “I have my phone. I can protect myself. I’m going home, and you can’t stop me.”

  “It’s in the opposite direction and it’s raining!” he snaps.

  I stick my hand out of the car and big fat rain droplets splatter onto my hand. “This is a drizzle.” I lie.

  I get out of the car and slam the door. Then, I start my trek in the other direction. From the loud slam of a car door that follows, I know Ryder’s following me. “Lake! Don’t do this.”

  I don’t turn back. The beating rain almost feels as hard as hail and I shiver in place. But I won’t give in to him. Then, the sounds of sirens fill my ears, and I watch as a cruiser with flashing lights drives up beside me. I stand still, petrified it’s the sheriff, but when I see Mike’s face, I sigh in relief.

  He pulls up beside me. Ryder has just made it to me and grabs my hand. “Don’t do this,” he begs. I glance down at our linked fingers. His hands are dripping like mine and there’s no warmth, only bone chilling coldness.

  The passenger window of the cruiser rolls down, revealing the deputy. He doesn’t look pleased as he rubs the bump on his bald head. With his nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, he says, “What’s going on here?”

  I pull my hand from Ryder’s and, for the first time in days, I feel utterly alone.