The Dead Girls Club - Damien Angelica Walters Page 0,78
could call me if she wanted to talk.
* * *
I stood in semidarkness, my mouth a desert, my fingers ice. Shaking, I turned around in every direction. I was alone in the kitchen. But I didn’t remember waking up. Didn’t remember getting out of bed and coming downstairs. Was I sleepwalking? But I didn’t do that. I never did that. A sound, half sob, half giggle, slipped out, and I covered my mouth. My lips went grainy and rough, and I scrubbed them on the sleeve of my pajamas as I turned on the overhead light, blinking to clear the bright. My skin was dusted with white, and on the table the sugar bowl was overturned, the words HELP HER traced within the sweetness. A sharp pain in my side drove the air from my lungs and my knees buckled. I sank, a deflated balloon, to the floor.
“Please,” I said. “Stop.”
The pain flared anew as if in answer. I was afraid to stand, afraid my legs wouldn’t support my weight, but I was more afraid my parents would come down and find me, so I gripped the edge of the table to pull myself up. I scraped my index finger through the words, cutting them in half.
“Why don’t you help her?”
I touched my side in anticipation, but there was no pain. Crying, I held the bowl next to the table, swept the sugar back, and wiped the table with a dishrag. Too afraid my parents would hear if I turned on the water, I used the rag to clean myself, too.
Finally I turned off the light and said to the darkness, “Fine, I’ll talk to her.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOW
When Nicole calls midmorning, I push my chair away from my desk, give my computer my back. We chat about nothing in particular, then she says, “So, is everything okay at work?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
There’s a funny little pause. “You’ve been … different the past few weeks.”
“Oh?” There’s a challenge in the word that I don’t mean. Or maybe I do.
“It’s like there was some strange seismic shift. One day you were fine, the next not. All I can think is something must have happened, and we’re—I’m—worried about you.”
“We’re?” Definitely more than a challenge now.
“Ryan called me because he was worried and thought I might know what was going on.”
“So you have been talking to Ryan,” I say. “You lied to me.” Each word is blunt.
“Yes, but only because we were trying to figure out what’s wrong. We love you, Heather. What happened? You haven’t been answering my calls or responding to my texts. Does it have to do with the old friend? The one with the abusive mother?”
It takes effort to swallow. Ryan told her? I barely even mentioned it and he fucking told Nicole?
“Stop prying. Please.” I do my best to make the last word sound at least a pinch sincere.
“I’m not prying. I care. “
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. It’s obvious you’re not. Come on, this is me, your best friend. You can talk to me about anything.”
I’m half tempted to say, My last best friend? I killed her. Would Nicole still care about me then? Would anyone?
“I said I’m fine. I need to get ready for my patient.” I spin to my monitor and hit refresh. Nicole’s in the process of saying goodbye as I disconnect the call.
What a wonderful conversation to have on a Monday morning. I jump from my chair, sending it skidding across the plastic floor mat, and grab my mug. Past the reception area is a small kitchenette, and I jam a pod in the Keurig, striking the tile with my heel while the coffee brews.
As I skirt Ellie’s desk on my way back, my sleeve catches on one of the leaves of the plant in the corner. I try to grab it, fingers splayed, while keeping my full mug balanced. No luck. Coffee splashes and the plant tips over the edge, dirt spraying as the pot thumps on the carpet.
“Ah, shit,” I say.
Ellie jumps from her seat. “It’s okay.”
I set my mug on the corner of her desk, and kneeling side by side, we scoop up the soil.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“No big deal. If you want to kill it, you’ll have to try harder next time. I did it myself last week. The knocking over, not the killing.”
She’s smiling, but her words send the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I think of the dirt I found in my office. And the day I