“Emma?” She touches my shoulder, forcing me to look at her. There’s something wild in her eyes, something I can’t read. Panic? Disappointment? Anger? Fuck, I can’t understand her. Why can I never justread people right? “Just be honest with me. Did you ever really care?”
Mom always said I wasa little too honest. That I needed toconsider people’s feelings more. I’ve tried so hard to do that my whole life. This voice note was the one time I let loose.
I have no idea if Beck really,reallywants me to be honest. But it feels as though the world is hanging by that thread.
Myworld is hanging by that thread.
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice heavy with growing tears. “How could I not? They were my best friends. But no, I didn’t come out here for a purely selfless reason.” I grit my teeth. “Why should I? When have they ever done anything selfless for me? When have they done anything buttortureme?”
I know the answer. Paisley was selfless when she became my friend and stuck with me through all these years. Paisley was selfless when she encouraged me to open my art commissions. Harlow was selfless when she would style me before every dance and party. Opal was selfless when she endured every haunted house and scary movie because she knew I liked them.
They were all mostly bad friends, but theyweremy friends.
Now that warmth is gone. It’s been gone as long as their bodies have been cold. It died hours before they did.
Why do I have to pretend otherwise?
Tears stream hot down my face. “This is all so futile. Why are we out here trying to find justice for people we hated? They’d never do the same for either of us.”
When I bring my gaze back to Beck, it’s like she’s glitched. She’s looking at me, but also looking beyond me. Processing what I said, but nowhere near able to respond.
It hits me like a ton of bricks.
I just said all that horrible stuff about her dead sister. I told Beck Horne her dead sister wouldn’t have tried to bring her justice if she had died.
Even if all that is true, I can’t be the one to say it. Not now. Not after we just found all her fingernails in a summoning circle. I was too honest.
I feel myself floating out of my body, out of the watchtower, looking down at the dark blanket of forest, thinking of all the souls stuck down there.
Maybe the answer to why Paisley, Harlow, and Opal never really liked me is simple. Maybe they all saw what was wrong with me from the beginning. Maybe they saw that I’d turn into this kind of monster eventually. They cut their losses before I turned on them.
I can’t look at her anymore. I grab my backpack and sling it over my back.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Beck. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t dare look back to see the devastation and anger on her face.
I exit the watchtower and start climbing down the ladders.
“Emma!”
“I can’t be here. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Relief floods me as the crunch of dirt sounds under my feet. I can’t handle people right now, even if that one person is someone I really care about, who I thought got me. I put her through too much.Iam too much. I’m doing her a favor by leaving so she can blow off some steam, even if I don’t know how long I’ll actually be gone.
I walk toward the road, leaving Beck and my voice note behind.
Twenty-Nine
The road winding through the national forest provides a false sense of security. Everything bad happens in the forest, so the road is safe. I’ll walk my way back to the town and wait for Beck to return. I’ll tell Natalie to tell Evan to go find her. She’ll be safe if she stays in the watchtower with the ladders up.
No one’s following me. Beck’s probably safe, and that should feel like a relief. But all it does is make my throat go tighter and tighter with the tears.
Why would I have ever thought Beck would see past my massive flaws? If she liked anyone, she liked the mask I made just for her. Detective Emma, Pathetic Abandoned Friend Emma, Innocent Emma. Someone who was just as blindsided by the deaths, who only wanted what was right for people who didn’t deserve her pity.
But that person isn’t real. This is the real me. Someone who hurts people when I get hurt. Who hates people who treat me badly. Who passive-aggressively takes blow after blow and then explodes over an issue that was never that big to begin with. I kept everything bottled upfor so long and now it’s all spilling out and I can’t stop it. Bullies are bad, but being emotionally unregulated and taking that out on the wrong people is just as bad.
I don’t deserve Beck. I haven’t deserved her since she was nice to me that October night at the Mystic Museum. At least Beck knows how to be honest.
