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Prologue
Maribelle
Ten Years Earlier
“You can’t tellanyone about this,” Mindy whispers, but since we’re standing in an open field, her voice carries.
The moon is huge tonight. It’s almost blinding how bright it is when we’re standing in an empty cornfield.
“I know,” I whisper back, even though I think whispering is pointless right now.
“Come on then. No more breaks,” she huffs.
“Why can’t I hold his feet?” I whine. I’m only ten, it’s got to be at least one in the morning, and way past my bedtime.
“We drew straws, you get the head.”
Mindy has always been bossy. Just because she’s two years older than me, she thinks she can tell me what to do.
“I don’t understand why Mama didn’t come with us. She’s the reason he’s sleeping,” I point out.
“He’s not sleeping. He’s dead.” Mindy stares at me and I look at her with wide eyes.
“Mama wouldn’t do that.”
“Whatever you say, Belle.” I can’t see her face, but I can tell she’s rolling her eyes.
It feels like hours go by until we finally reach the small creek. There was a storm that came through last week, so it’s covered in branches, but if you’re real quiet, you can hear the water rushing through.
“What now?” I ask my older sister for guidance.
“Now we push him in.” I stare at her, open mouthed.
“Why would we push him in?”
“Because he’s dead,” she draws out, talking to me like I’m a two-year old. “Now help me push him under this branch.”
So, I did. I didn’t ask any more questions, and I never mentioned it to anyone. Not even to the kids at school when there were whispers on the playground about a dead body floating in the creek.
My sister took the secret to the grave. Because it wasn’t but five years later that her body was found in that same creek.
And it wasn’t me that pushed that one in.
Chapter 1
Maribelle
Present Day
“Mom?”I call out into our tiny two-bedroom trailer. “Hello?” She can’t be too far, she never leaves, and the place only has four rooms.
The floor squeaks when I step inside, and I pull the door shut behind me. The stove is on, and water is boiling out over the side of the saucepan. “Great,” I mumble to myself.
“Mom?” I yell again and get nothing.
I make my way down the tiny hallway and see that her bedroom door is shut. “You in here?” I push the door open, and there she is, a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth, passed out, naked in her bed. Next to a man I’ve never seen before.
“Jesus… fuck,” I mutter.
