The Dead Girls Club - Damien Angelica Walters Page 0,109
Rachel and Gia. I kept thinking she was going to call me a liar, but she didn’t. She just listened, and her believing me was almost worse. She asked about places Becca might go, and I told her about the playground and how sometimes we’d had picnics in the field. I told her she’d spent the night at our house a lot, my voice trapped halfway in tears and snot.
“I only have a few more questions,” she said. “Did you ever see her mom hurt her?”
I shook my head; I was crying too hard to talk. I wasn’t lying either. I’d never seen her do that. I’d only seen what it looked like after.
“Did you ever see bruises or other marks on her?”
I pulled my voice free from the tears and said, “Sometimes.”
“Did she tell you how she got them?”
I went still. You can’t ever tell anyone about her. And I’d promised I wouldn’t.
“She said she fell down or bumped into a cabinet,” I said.
“Can you think of anything else that might help us find Rebe—Becca?”
I hunched down even more. “Uh-uh.”
“Okay, I think that’s all I need right now. Thank you very much for talking to me, and I hope you feel better soon. I promise, we’re doing everything we can to find Becca, okay?”
I wiped my cheek on the blanket. The truth fizzed inside me, salt on a slug. Why couldn’t they see it? Why didn’t they know I was lying? All they had to do was shake my shoulders and it would all spill out.
“Go on upstairs, sweetheart,” Mom said. “I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.”
Detective Harris waited until I was almost upstairs before she spoke to my mom, but it was so low I couldn’t hear the words.
I went into the bathroom, let the blanket drop, and picked up my hairbrush. When it caught on a tangle, I yanked hard until it came free, trailing several long strands of hair. One grabbed the chain. I tugged it back and ran my fingers over the heart.
Was she still in the basement? Was she waiting to see if I’d come back? I started crying again, without making a sound. I kept brushing, ripping out the snarls, not even caring it hurt. I counted to one hundred, my cheeks wet and my nose running. I wanted everything back the way it had been when summer break first started. I wanted my friend back. We were best friends forever. We’d said it, both of us. She had to come back. She had to.
I opened the medicine cabinet and removed a sharp pair of scissors from the bottom shelf. No matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t get to go back. Not ever. Tongue between my front teeth, I pulled out a hank of hair and chopped it off a few inches away from my scalp. Wildebeest, I thought. I grabbed more hair. Cut again, lips pressed together so I’d stay quiet. I kept cutting until the sink was filled with long strands and I couldn’t see through the tears.
Fingers aching, I dropped the scissors and stumbled out of the room like a mummy in too-tight wrappings. My mom was coming up the stairs, and when she saw me, she rushed to my side.
I offered my hands, hair draped over my palms. “I didn’t, I didn’t, I …”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She put her arms around me, rocked me back and forth, and whispered against my head the way she had when I was baby. “Everything will be okay,” she said over and over again. “I promise. Everything will be okay.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell her she was wrong. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what I’d done. Nothing would ever be okay again. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I couldn’t. When you made a promise, you had to keep it. No matter what. You had to keep it forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NOW
With Ryan gone, every room’s a cavern, every hallway a tunnel. I pace the first floor, sure I’ll find him somewhere, never mind that I watched him walk out the door an hour ago. He said he’ll call me in a few days. I can be patient. Can give him his space. Once he’s calmed down, he’ll understand.
I must still be on my mom’s shit-list, too, because she’s not answering my calls. Ryan is gone and Becca’s not dead. The words play in my head until they become a chant I can’t banish.