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Panic whirls through me as my arms start to go limp and slump to my sides. As they do, I feel my fingers brush against my phone that I dropped on the floor. With every ounce of strength I have in me, I pick it up and discreetly put it in the pocket of the hoodie I’m wearing. Hopefully, they won’t search my pockets so that maybe I can try to call someone when I get a chance … unless they’re just going to kill me.
Maybe the drug is going to do just that, is the last thought I have before dizziness overtakes me.
Then I pass out.
11
Jax
I’m trying notto freak out, but I’m not doing a very great job.
The photo I found in Raven’s bedroom … the girl in it … she looks just like Willow. No, not just looks like. It is. Even though it’s been years, I can remember her face as clearly as I know my own. What I don’t understand, though, is why Raven is saying the girl in the photo is her. Willow died that day on the bridge. She fell in, landed in the river, and she didn’t know how to swim. I tried to save her, but my father’s minions caught me before I could.
I cried and screamed and fought to get away from them, to save her. I had promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and I had broken that promise in the worst way possible—by letting her die.
My father told me so that day, told me it was my fault, and that the guilt I would feel for the rest of my life would be my punishment. And it has been. Willow was the only good thing in Hunter’s, Zay’s, and my life. She was one of our best friends. She was our light in the darkness that plagued our lives. She was sweet, funny, and cared about us, even when things got really bad, which was a lot.
Back then, our fathers made us do awful things, and Willow’s father was part of it. It’s why she came to our house in the first place. The stuff that happened … I’ve blocked most of it out, except for the good memories of her.
“Jax, you’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” Willow singsongs as she skips around the tree.
Hunter, Zay, and I are sitting in the grass just beside the tree, and Zay snickers when Willow says this.
I give him a dirty look. Then, to Willow, I say, “No, I’m not.”
She skips over to me, ducks down, and whispers in my ear, “Liar.” Then she kisses my cheek and laughs.
Zay snickers again and starts teasing me, so I pretend to be grossed out and wipe my cheek off. But the truth is, I liked the way the kiss felt. Real. That kiss was real—
I jerk from the memory and sink to Raven’s bedroom floor, pulling at my hair and struggling to breathe.
“Jax, what the fuck?” Zay enters the room, taking in the scene and shaking his head. “What’re you doing?”
“I … She’s in the photo … and I don’t know what to do.” I rock back and forth.
“What photo?” Zay asks, approaching me like a skittish cat.
“The … one I found …” I look at the photo laying on the floor in front of me. Part of me wants to pick it up and examine it more, but the other part is scared of seeing it again, of remembering.
Zay walks over and picks it up. “What the hell …?” His gaze snaps to me. “Where did you find this?”
“In Raven’s stuff,” I whisper hoarsely.
He looks at the photo again and goes visibly pale. Seeing his reaction makes this real.
This is real.
Raven has a photo of Willow in her room. And she said that Willow was her. Well, not in those words, but still …
I stumble to my feet and start for the door, but Zay snags my arm as I pass him.
“Where are you going?” he bites out.
“I’m going to see Raven … or Willow—whoever she is.” I jerk my arm, but he doesn’t release me. “Zay, back the fuck off, or I swear I’m gonna hit you.”
Usually, if I made this threat, he’d more than likely just roll his eyes at me, but he must see something on my face that implies I’m not playing because he slowly lets go of me.
I move to walk out of the room again, but he steps back and sticks his arm out in front of me.
