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CLARK

“Is Marley okay?” I ask Mitch when I find him downstairs by the front door.

There’s clearly something bothering the both of them.

“No,” he says honestly.

“What’s going on?”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, tears in his eyes.

“Mitch, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Come on, I’ll tell you in the car,” he says, looking upstairs, clearly still worried about his sister.

“Is she going to be okay alone?”

“I already called Delaney. She’s on her way.”

I glance upstairs, the urge to race up there and pull her into my arms is strong and confusing. It’s not often that I feel the urge to comfort someone.

“Come on. She’ll be okay. She’s going to have to process this,” he says, opening the front door.

I follow him out to the car, before deciding it’s probably best I drive. He doesn’t seem like himself right now.

“Okay, tell me what’s happening,” I say, almost immediately.

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the seat, turning to look out the window.

“Mar found a journal that Mal was keeping.”

“Okay…” I’m trying to pay attention to the road, but I also want to give him my attention.

“I guess she started reading some of the pages. I think she’s always been searching for a reason why Mal did what she did.”

I don’t say anything. I can tell that he’s trying to choke out the words and I don’t want to seem insensitive. Thankfully, we didn’t have far to drive, and I pull into a driveway of one of the houses Mitch is planning to look at today.

“She found a part where Mal talks about how Claire made her get an abortion. She forced her to,” he says, tears falling down his face.

“What the fuck? Can someone do that?” I ask, feeling the anger rise.

“Legally? No. But when you have a sixteen-year-old girl who’s being told what a piece of shit she is for getting herself into that situation in the first place, then yes. It sounded like she felt like she didn’t have any other option.” He puts his elbows on his knees, dropping his head in his hands.

I reach over, squeezing his shoulder. I’m not sure how to comfort someone in a time like this.

“Do you think this is why she killed herself?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It seems like it could be a likely reason, but we’ll have to read the rest of the journal to find out. Fuck, man. I’ve never liked my parents, but this is a new low.”

“Indeed it is. How can she even fucking live with herself?” I ask, referring to his mother.

“Because she’s got everything she ever wanted in life. The only stain on their perfect image is their daughter who killed herself. But you saw how they portrayed that in the media,” he says, waving his hand in the air.

He’s referring to the fact that his parents made it out to seem like Mallory had been mistreated by her boyfriend. Everyone that really knew her knew that was a lie, but they painted a beautifully crafted story to fit their narrative. Beau and his family had to leave town, and nobody’s heard from him since. Not only did he have to mourn the girl he loved, but he also had to face the wrath of her parents. Now I see why they did it, this was their way of punishing him and Mallory for her getting pregnant.

“This is so fucked up,” I say.

“You’re telling me. Now I’m more worried than ever about Marley. She seems to be doing better, but this could be just the thing that makes her unhinged. She’s like a ticking time bomb sometimes. She shoves everything deep down, and eventually it bubbles over and she goes wild. She has no regard for her safety or health, nothing.”

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