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I swallow hard and reach down to the floor to grab my hooded sweatshirt. I suddenly feel far more naked than I am with the flimsy silk top and shorts I’m wearing. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.” I would like to convince myself of that too. It’s obvious I’m flustered as I try to pull the sweatshirt over my head, struggling to poke my arms into the right holes. Once it’s over my head, I move across the bed to put some additional space between us.
He laughs and I watch the flame on the match grow closer to the tips of his fingers, wondering how long he’ll tolerate the burn.
“Why did you do it, Haley?” he asks. His voice is different to how it’s sounded the times we were together this past week. The look in his eyes is eerily dark and sinister and I don’t know what changed in him between the hours we fell asleep and now.
With every muscle in my face tightening in response to his question, all I can reply with is, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I cry out as my voice becomes hoarse. I’m obviously not very good at this guessing game he’s playing.
“You must have thought you would get away with everything you’ve done,” he continues.
I shake my head and squint at him. “Liam, you’re freaking me out and I want you to leave.” I realize I didn’t grab my phone on my nightstand before scooting across to the other side of the bed to put some distance between us.
“You aren’t going to get away with this again, you know that right?” he says. “I mean, my God, you even have a firefly necklace. It’s like you’re flaunting what you’ve done.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I shout, clasping the thin metal chain around my neck. I glance at the connecting wall between my room and Willa’s, hoping I’m being loud enough that she will wake up and hear what I’m saying. “My parents gave me this necklace when I was a kid. Where is this all coming from?”
He blows out the match again, dropping it down onto the desk with the others before standing from the desk chair. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are practically bulging out of his skull as he steps in closer toward my bed.
“Where was the kid found, Haley?” he asks.
“The kid? Fallon? Did that family hire you to follow me? Because if so, you have wasted a lot of time. I’ve had nothing todo with what happened to Fallon.” I gasp and slap one hand over my mouth, muttering, “Oh my God. Are—are you the one who—” I skate my hand down the length of my throat, touching my fingertips to my neck as I recall the night I was dragged off into an alley.
Liam laughs. “Hire me? That’s almost funny.” He laughs again, harder than necessary for the not-so-funny question. “Neither Lara nor Corbin would ever pay me a dime to help them, trust me.”
“You-you kn-know them?” I ask, my words stuttering as my remaining bravery disintegrates into stomach pains. With subtle movements, I lean down to pick up the metal flashlight I keep next to my bed, unsure that I’d know how to use it as a weapon if I had to.
Liam rolls his eyes and tosses his head back with a grunt. “Give me a break, Haley. Of course I know them, and so do you. Well, Lara at least. You’re just not as unfortunate as I am, having to be related to that money-hungry shrew.”
“Great, so you’re an estranged family member?” I ask, forcing my words to boom louder since I haven’t heard any movement from Willa. I need her.
“Cute,” he says with a huff of exasperation. “You know very well that I’m Lara’s brother. You wouldn’t just forget good old Billy Hoyt.” He pins his hands to his hips and stares up at the ceiling, reminiscing. “I remember the last time we saw each other. Do you?”
“Billy?” I utter as disbelief washes through me. I shake my head and step back toward the corner of the room. “No. That’s not possible.”
He sighs. “Oh, drop the act. Billy, Liam—both nicknames for William. It isn’t that confusing.” I never thought twice about Billy’s name being shortened from something. I don’t really recall anyone calling him William other than his mom.
“The only act going is the one where you’ve been tricking me into thinking you were someone else. Why would you do that? I trusted you. I let you in, and I never do that so easily—” A shuddered breath catches in my throat as I hold back a fear filled sob. My shoulder brushes against the wall between my room and Willa’s. I can’t move back any farther. My heart pounds as I struggle to think of a way out of this room safely, but he’s in the path to the door. I slap my hand against the wall several times as hard as I can, silently pleading for Willa to wake up and storm in here.
“I can think of a few reasons why I would do this…” he says.
“Is this some kind of sick game? Why are you here? It’s been thirteen years since I saw Billy Hoyt—you. We barely knew each other. I can’t even remember what you looked like then.”
Although that part isn’t exactly true.
FORTY-SEVEN
THURSDAY, JUNE 15TH 9:30 AM
My bedroom is shrinking around me, making me feel like the walls are going to collapse in on us if I don’t get past him and out of here. My heart is in my throat as I try to think straight with all these pieces scattered around in disarray. “Why would you hurt me like this? I really thought you were this great guy.” I sniffle and gasp for more air than my lungs will take in. “You let this go on until you got what you wanted from me last night. Is that what this is about? Because that’s—God that’s really—sick.”
Liam stumbles backward as if he’s intoxicated and leans against the wall next to the door, letting his head fall back with a thud. “The sick part…is that I actually fell for you. I had a thing for you thirteen years ago too, but?—”
“You couldn’t let anyone know that then because I was just a freak to everyone else, right?” I cry out.
He wraps his hand around his forehead, pressing his fingers into the side of his temple. “I wanted to forget who the hell you are—who you were. I wish I hadn’t known you before. Worse, I wish this wasn’t going to end so badly for us both.” I don’t understand what he means and by the wild look in his eyes, I’m not sure he understands either.
I wrap my hands around my throat, feeling like someone is strangling me from the inside. “What was the point to all of this?”
“You wouldn’t understa—” he says, his statement shortened by the sound of buzzing coming from the nightstand on the side of the bed he was asleep on.
