Lost Boy

“Why do you have to dissect and put a reason to everything? Just let him deflower you already.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I snap.

“Well, tell that to your vagina. That girl has probably healed back over.”

“That’s not how it works, asshole.”

She places a hand on my shoulder. “After everything that’s happened, I say take the small wins.” She squeezes before adding, “And the big ones. I bet that guy is packing.” Why can she not just be normal for one conversation? She wrinkles her nose, looking around me to the toilet. “Did you poop?”

“Gross. No.”

“What the hell is that smell then?”

She’s right. That awful smell is back. “I think there’s a blockage in the drain.”

“I know a plumber,” she sighs, wiping her mouth with a towel. “I’ll call him.”

“The landlord should sort this crap out,” I groan, shutting the door behind us so the smell does seep into the rest of the apartment.

“We’ll have to wait a month before that douchebag will get anyone here,” she calls out from her room as she disappears inside. “I know a guy—and it will be free.”

“Will it?” I raise a brow, poking my head into her room.

“He likes me.” She shakes her ass at me.

God, I wish I didn’t have to know about the favors she pays off with her vagina.

“I’m late.” She’s out her door, hopping while putting on her shoe. She kisses my cheek and bounces off. “See you later at work.”School is the last place I want to go today, but I need to get out of this apartment and stop overthinking about what Detective Hernandez said about it being my blood on the rose petal. I look at my palm. The scabs are almost healed. I pricked my finger on a thorn, but how could the blood have come from that? I’m losing my mind. I slip on a pair of jeans and one of the tops I washed yesterday, inhaling the flowery scent. Faltering at my dresser to look at the photo of me, Jack, and his mother taken barely a week before everything turned red, memories cutting into me like blades of a knife. I miss you, I say internally, stroking over Jack’s face with the pad of my finger before, turning my head up to the ceiling. I haven’t heard Clark moving around this morning. Maybe he’s sleeping in. Placing the photo against the mirror, I give myself an internal pep talk. Today is going to be a good day. Believe it and it shall come to pass.

Pushing out into the street, my feet root to the spot, and I almost stop breathing. “Hey,” Clark says, biting his lip as he searches my features.

“Hey,” I manage to wisp past my lips. He smells of summer, freshly cut grass, rainwater, and maple. He’s dressed in jeans and a white shirt that’s open at the collar, showing the ink of a tattoo. “I’m sorry about what happened,” I admit. Panic overcame me, and I ran like I always do. “You have to admit, it’s all a little weird.” I tug down the sleeves of my top.

“That I live here?” he questions, a half-smile hooking his lips.

“You could have told me we were neighbors at any time but didn’t.”

He sighs heavily and reaches out, clasping my wrist. Heat spreads, zapping up my arm. His eyes are intent as he stares at me. I look down to make sure I didn’t leave the house pantless. “In time, I would have. I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” he implores, the intensity between us building, an inferno scorching every nerve ending inside me. The skidding of wheels breaks the spell, drawing our attention to Charlotte’s car coming to an unattractive stop, half on the curb beside us. “Lizzy,” she calls out, frantic, racing toward me, leaving her car door wide open. “You have to come. There’s been another one.” She’s shaking, her voice jittering.

“Everything okay?” Clark asks, reaching out to hold her steady.

“Come with me,” she urges me, ignoring Clark as she pulls me away.

I wave a hand behind me. He stands there, his brow furrowed, watching Charlotte drag me down the sidewalk. “You left your car,” I remind her.

“I can’t drive. It’s just a few blocks.”

“What is?” I demand, jerking my arm from her punishing grip. “What the hell? You’re being crazy.”

“There’s another body,” she snaps, her pupils wide, lips trembling.

No, no, no.

“Come on,” she stresses.

Feeling lightheaded, I take off walking, sensing eyes on me from every person I pass. Are they watching me? Do they know who I am? I didn’t want to live my life in fear, but it’s not becoming a choice anymore. Vulnerability hums in my veins. My heart begins to pound as we round a corner. There’s a sea of people gathered, dim blue lights flashing between the cracks in the spaces of bodies. No…no…no…