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The scene displayed in the makeshift spotlight took place an hour before prom officially began, when we’d all met at my house to take group photos and have dinner. Miranda had been pretty in a long, pink dress, but Bianaca’s beauty eclipsed her. My girl had been absolutely stunning, and I’d found I couldn’t look away. I’d known I shouldn’t stare, I’d known it was wrong, but I hadn’t cared. She was my best friend, but watching her smile at fucking Brett Highwater, I’d realized that I wanted us to be…more. Everything.
Her golden hair was brushed away from her face, the top half twisted into an elaborate updo, while the rest fell in soft curls around her shoulders. She wore a slender, sleek blue number that clung to her figure, emphasizing her natural bust and slender arms. Her years of gymnastics had made her fit in a way that looked natural and riveting. I loved seeing the muscles flex in her arms, the curve of her perfect ass. She wore silver high heels that accentuated her bronze, slender legs—legs I yearned to feel wrapped around my shoulders as I ate her out.
I’d had one kiss with Bianaca, but that one kiss would never be enough.
In the scene before me, Bianaca laughed at something Brett said, her entire face coming alive, and I watched as my younger self scowled in their direction. I’d been insanely jealous that Brett had been able to get her to laugh like that. I wanted her to smile up atme.I wanted her to laugh atmyjokes.
Instead, I’d been forced to stand on the sidelines, smiling at a girl I did not care for while the love of my life remained oblivious.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart raced at the familiar, rhythmic sound of the bodies hitting the floor. Before the monster could catch up with me, I broke into a run, leaving behind my past.
The next circle of light appeared even farther away than the others, and my breaths sawed in and out as weariness swept over me.
I didn’t hear the monster, allowing me to believe for a second that I’d gotten far enough ahead of it, but I didn’t dare slow down until I was directly in front of the final scene.
I’d assumed I would see Dylan once more, when he stabbed me.
Instead, I saw something far, far worse.
The day my step-father murdered my mother, rendering me silent for years to come.
The vision before me depicted a little boy with a mop of blond hair and bright blue eyes glistening with tears. He cried over his mother’s fallen form as her sightless eyes gazed back at him.
I remembered that moment all too well, the image permanently etched into the skin of my closed eyelids.
Richard Bricks had taken everything from me the day he stabbed my mom. The day Iwitnessedhim stab my mom, her screams permeating the air.
“Mom?”I hollered, rushing down the staircase. My tiny hand was slick with sweat as her screams rushed to greet me, heady with pain and terror. “Mom!” I ran even faster, pushing my legs to carry me to her. To save her. Besides my best friend, Bianaca, my mother was the only person I loved.
Did something happen? Had she fallen?
I skirted around the corner of the hall, my mouth popping open in preparation to scream her name again.
And then I saw them. Sawher.
The world around me turned fuzzy and indistinct, and all I could do was stare at the scene before me, praying it wasn’t what I thought it was. Praying that I was dreaming or being pranked or anything else that could explain this atrocious situation.
My mother sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around her in an ocean of burgundy red. Her eyes were wide in her too pale face, vacant and empty as they stared up at the ceiling.
And above her…
My step-father didn’t hesitate to stab my mother one more time, directly in the heart, a sadistic grin morphing his face into something that was unrecognizable. His dark hair was matted with sweat, and his eyes were wild from whatever drug he’d taken.
“Mom?” The word tumbled out unbidden, and when Richard’s head snapped in my direction, I knew I’d screwed up. The man appeared positively deranged.
My eyes flitted to my mom’s still form before rising to meet Richard’s gaze. Fear and anger twisted up my insides, and I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to scream and yell and curse, but when I opened my mouth, the words didn’t come out.
Only silence.
He took a step closer, that bloody knife raised, and I stepped away instinctively.
Accusations rested on the tip of my tongue like a vitriolic poison.
How could you do this to someone you claimed to love? How could you kill her? How could you kill my mom?
“Lying, traitorous, cheating bitch,” Richard hissed, spitting in my mother’s direction.
