Page 13 of Deklan


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“Why?”

“Because Sean wants it.”

“He isn’t here,” Deklan says, “and I’ve got the weekend off. He isn’t expecting to see me until Monday. There is plenty of time.”

How long will it take for you to dispose of my body?

Will my body ever be found? Do my parents already know, or will they look for me? Will the police get involved or look the other way like they usually do when it comes to the Foley’s activities? Will some hiker come by my remains accidentally? What will I look like?

I don’t have any clothes to wear tomorrow. I don’t even have a hairbrush here.

Without warning, I burst into tears. I’m not crying over my impending wedding night and subsequent death. I’m crying because I’m going to be buried in a shallow grave with unbrushed teeth.

“Kera? What’s wrong?” Deklan grips my upper arms and tilts his head to look me in the eye.

“Nothing.” I sob as I turn away from him.

“Would you stop that?” Deklan lets out a long sigh. “Just tell me, all right?”

He’s staring at my face, his expression intense—worried. Why would he be worried? Didn’t he expect me to cry when he held a gun to my head—or would a gunshot be too loud, and he plans to use a knife? Maybe he’ll smother me with a pillow.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly. “Please, Kera, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just…just…I don’t have anything to wear tomorrow. My mom didn’t pack me a toothbrush or a change of clothes. I don’t have any deodorant or socks or anything, and I know why!”

I put my hands over my face. I sound ridiculous, and he’s going to think I’m a whiny child. I brace myself, waiting for him to smack me for being so obnoxious and needy. When Mom whines about not having what she wants, dad always backhands her to shut her up.

“What do you mean, you ‘know why’?” Deklan takes my wrists and pulls them from my face.

“Never mind,” I whisper as I turn my head so I don’t have to look at him. “It’s nothing. Mom’s just…forgetful. Dad’s always saying that. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look…terrified.”

He takes my chin in his hand and won’t let me look away, keeping his grip firm as he stares at me. There’s no avoiding this. There is no point in prolonging the inevitable. It’s best to just let it all out now. I take a deep breath.

“I know what you meant when you said you were going to take care of me,” I say.

Deklan frowns and looks confused.

“I can take it,” I say softly. “If you’re going to kill me, can we just get it over with?”

“Kill you?”

I let out a long breath. I’m officially tired of the charade.

“I know that’s what you’re going to do,” I tell him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s not like I’m going to fight you or anything.”

“Why do you think I’m going to kill you?”

I stare at him as I try to figure out his tone. He’s not asking out of curiosity, as if to ask “How did you figure out the plan?” He’s not acting surprised that I know what he’s going to do. He seems more…horrified.

“You…you said…” I pull back from him, confused.

“What did I say?”

“You said you were going to ‘take care of me,’” I whisper.

“What?”

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