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“Where are you hurt?” she asks me. “Where is the blood coming from?”
“Blood?” I look down at my hands; they’re covered in red liquid. Beneath them, the blue comforter is soaked, that the liquid still looks red there too. “I don’t think it’s mine,” I tell her as I run my hands over myself. “It was thrown over me.”
Laughter from the doorway has both of us looking over at the crowd of girls who are watching, their phones out and recording.
“You can all fuck off.” Penny leaves my side to storm over to the door and slam it shut in their faces. As she turns around, she spots something on the ground and picks it up.
A bucket.
But as she looks back at me, her gaze drifts over my head, and her lips part and her complexion pales.
Slowly, I turn. On the wall above my bed, written with the same blood, is one word:
Murderer.
XXXV
Tori
Closing my eyes, I take in several deep breaths. There are a dozen things I should be doing, starting with getting myself out of this blood-soaked bed, but right now, I can’t move.
If I do, I’m going to cry.
And if I start crying, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
“Tori?”
“Mmmm?”
“Where’s your phone?”
I turn to my dresser, but it’s not there. And then I remember I pretty much crashed when I walked in, and the phone is still in my bag. “My bag. Why?”
“To call the police. I left mine in—”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t.”
Penny’s face contorts in anger. “Fuck that. You were attacked. The police—”
“Won’t do shit,” I tell her. “I didn’t see who it was, and we both knownobodysaw anything. Besides, they don’t really have a great track record of finding the truth.”
Carefully, I wipe my face to remove the blood dripping from my eyebrows and nose. Then, with a weary sigh, I finally pull back the covers and step out of my bed. Blood drips everywhere, but I just stare at my open bathroom door rather than move through it.
“I can clean this up. You go shower.”
“I just need to psyche myself up,” I mutter. The air in the room is freezing, and now seeping through my wet clothes, making me shiver. But I still have no desire to take an ice-cold shower, even if I am covered in blood.
“For what?” Penny asks. She walks past me into the room, frowning as she turns the light on. Glancing back to me, her expression is more relaxed. “It’s clear. You’re okay.”
“There’s a problem with my hot water.”
Penny glances back at the shower then turns back to me, her eyes widening in understanding. “Yeah, I’m done with this shit. This ends now.”
“Penny, stay out of it.”
“No, us.” She moves her hands to her hips and glares at me. “You. I get what you’re doing, and I get why you think you need to do it, but enough is enough. Unless you want to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to be my friend for any other reason than Synclair Keyingham, we’re done with this bullshit.”
“You had to go through this when you were in high school,” I tell her.
