Page 203 of The Unravelings

They could be innocent. In fact, I’m sure they are.

JJ claims it. His eyes plead with me every time he lays his gaze on me. They tell a story without speaking a word.

My only question is, why did Franco make me think they did it? And why? I’m sure he couldn’t have forced the boys to kill me. And that’s a realization I’m coming to. Franco never could have dragged the boys to my house, forced them to hold me down, and watched without helping as I bled out and almost burned to death.

Shit.

Maybe JJ is right. Maybe I do need to come clean and tell the guys I’m me. Olivia. That I never died. I shake my head. I will. Eventually. I’m waiting for confirmation from Carter. I don’t want to start following my broken heart and get fucked all over again if it’s not true. But I know what my gut says. Somewhere along the way, I was lied to. Now, I have to figure out who, what, why, and when.

A grunt escapes me as I pull at the zip tie, keeping my wrists together. It cuts into my skin, leaving me burning and in pain, but I try not to pay attention to it. My fingers carefully run the length of the zip tie until I find the locking mechanism keeping it together. Carefully, I twist it so it’s to the outside of my wrist, so it’ll be easier to break through. Eventually. My chest heaves as I test it a few times, making sure I have enough wiggle room to step through my arms and bring them to the front of my body.

“Fuck,” I grunt breathlessly, and carefully step through my arms and bring them to the front of my body. Thank fuck I’m slightly flexible. “That was harder than I thought it would be,” I say to myself again in a low voice, taking several deep breaths to calm myself and yanking the dark hood off my head. Blinking, I look around, hoping my eyes will adjust to the utter darkness surrounding me, but it’s useless. It’s pitch black. Darker than fucking dark. I can’t even see my hands in front of my face, and there’s no light source coming from any direction. “Great.” I toss my tied hands in the air and roll my eyes. “Good thing I packed backup,” I mutter to myself again, reaching under my shirt and grabbing my phone hidden in my binder and my glasses in my pocket. Quickly, I put my glasses on and look around. It’s too bad the night vision cameras don’t work on my end. Oh, well.

Thankfully, Mack didn’t notice the lump or feel my phone when he threw me over his shoulder. If he had, I would have been truly fucked. Since JJ gave me the smallest warning possible about where these were going to be held, I figured I needed my phone in case something happened, and I needed to call for help. Not that it’d get me very far down here. I have zero signal and won’t have any until I’m closer to the entrance.

How the hell does he expect me to crawl my way out of here without light? Right. He probably doesn’t want me to make it, anyway.

Turning on my flashlight, I quickly look around the small room Mack dumped me in. Water drips constantly from the walls, making them glisten under my phone’s light. A cold, mineral smell hits my nose as I swivel my head back and forth, taking the room in completely. My heart hammers in my chest as I get to my feet, taking in the height of the ceiling and the stalactites hanging above, like sharpened teeth carved from water for years upon years. I lick my lips, taking in the stalagmites on the cave floor, another hazard I’ll have to keep in mind as I navigate my way out of here.

“Ugh,” I groan to myself. “He really did want to kill me.” Because if I had stumbled through the darkness, I would have fallen and busted my head open. Or worse.

Fucker. I shake my head, trying to keep my chin up. I guess I can’t blame him. If he really thought I destroyed the treehouse —which, I mean, I totally did —but they were my things, then he’d want to make the person responsible pay for their crimes. I guess that’s what this is. He’s making me pay for destroying what little was left he had of me.

I rub my chest at the realization that had been staring me in the face the entire time I’ve been here. I’ve seen the permanent scowl on his face and the way he no longer lights up at the simple things that once brought him joy. A hardness clings to every muscle in his body. A darkness surrounds Mack like a thick cloud. He isn’t the same guy I knew. Losing me must have chipped away at him little by little. And losing the things that reminded him of me must have sent him over the edge.

Mack thinks I broke everything in the treehouse. He’s trying to punish me for destroying everything. I didn’t lie to him, though. I’d never destroy someone else’s things. Only my own. Everything in that treehouse was something special I picked out to spruce up the dead space. To make it a home for all of us to enjoy. If it were up to them, there wouldn’t have been an ounce of personality in that place. Only a bare wooden floor and windows.

“I hate this stuff! This is supposed to be a manly place, Livy,” Mack growls, climbing into the treehouse with a frown while taking in the newest decorations I got. I swear he complains every time he crawls through the door. “You added more?” He sends me a deathly glare as I place a figurine on a new shelf I acquired from a garage sale with JJ a few hours ago. If I took it home, my father would immediately find it and break it. So, I bring it here to make it feel more like a home than a hangout.

“Uh, yeah?” I shrug with a smirk, knowing he’ll throw a fit about the pink trinkets I keep sneaking into the treehouse. Secretly, though. I think he likes them, but he won’t admit it. Yet.

I roll my eyes at him. “So bring your own stuff up here, then. Add the reds and blues you’re so desperate for. What do you have against pink, anyway?” I raise a brow.

“Maybe I will,” he huffs playfully, giving me a smirk. “I’ll decorate it with…”

But he doesn't continue his words and bites his tongue. His eyes widen when a deathly growl echoes through the trees, stopping me in my tracks. We freeze and sit up. Please be an animal. Please be something else and not the man I ran from to come here today. Discreetly, I tug at the ends of my shirt, nerves eating away at me from the inside out. I tuck my hands together, hiding the trembling my father causes every time he bellows my name.

“Olivia.” My father’s roar vibrates through the floorboards of the treehouse, raw and thick, slurring with the scent of booze I can practically smell from here. “I know you’re out here somewhere, you little bitch!”

A deafening boom echoes as he thrashes his belt against the trunk of a tree in the distance. The same belt that usually finds the flesh of my back, leaving welts in its wake.

He's on a warpath I want nothing to do with. Besides, I didn't do anything.

“Come out now! Or I’ll make the basement feel like a luxury suite later!” His voice cuts through the treehouse like a damn whip.

“Fuck,” I hiss to myself as panic consumes every inch of my body. I drop down, hitting the treehouse floor hard. An elephant sits on my chest as I rub over my heart, trying to will the panic clawing at my throat to subside.

Everything blurs in front of my eyes, mixing in vivid colors as tears burn the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill over my cheeks. So much for the Viotto Motto of never crying in the face of danger. Mack’s face disappears completely, washed away by the emotions rattling me to the core. The treehouse disappears. Everything turns dark. My mind takes me away, hiding me from the rage-filled voice seeking me out. His voice rings out again. He slurs and trips, hitting the forest floor hard. A thump echoes through the trees until he curses my name again, sounding closer and closer.

“He’s going to find us,” I gasp out, grasping my chest again.

“You’re okay, Buttercup,” Mack whispers. The sound of the foreign nickname brings me out of my stupor, helping me to focus on the things surrounding me, and not the man demanding my presence so he can beat the shit out of me. An arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me closer into his side. The familiar scent of the cologne I got him from the Dollar Store fills my nostrils and settles something in me as he grounds my panic. “We won’t let him find you,” he whispers as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “We’ll protect you. Forever."

I lay my head on his shoulder, mentally counting down the minutes until my father stumbles away, but I'm not that lucky. I hold my breath as chaotic footsteps crunch through the forest, getting closer to our location until it seems like he's standing right outside, yelling my name and cursing me for being born.

"Here," Mack whispers, digging into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful rock with blues and greens swirling through it. "This is for you."

"It's beautiful," I say, admiring it until he drops it into my hand with a grin.