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It's painful.
I glance around the old shipwreck, moss growing on the edge where it connects with land. A large branch extends out of the side, reaching for the sky. The entire wood has lost its color, more of a lifeless gray which extends over the exterior of the boat. The lower part is where I stay away from. People have decked it out with furniture, but it’s creepy, dim, and filled with so many cobwebs it’s impossible to even walk through it without feeling as if you have hundreds of spiders crawling on you.
Instead, I stay on the deck, walking toward the edge, my arms going to the weakened wood, settling down as I glance out at the ocean. It’s calm tonight, the softglub, glubof the water sounding gently as it reaches the ship.
I ignore the crowd behind me, closing my eyes as I hear my name whispered among strangers and acquaintances.
So many whispers.
“I hear she went to prison.”
“I think she was in treatment for heroin.”
“She definitely killed him.”
A shiver works up my spine, and I try my hardest not to pay attention to any of them as I focus on the water. Though it’s hard, because they aren’t just inquiring. They truly believe I’m guilty, that I’ve spent the last year serving hard time, or been on drugs.
They are cruel, and the way the air fills with tension, they feel uneasy around me, as well.
I bite my lip as I fight the chaos around me and inside of me. In the distance, I focus on the edge of the lighthouse, peeking around the tall trees.
“Don’t listen to them, Lakyn,” Posie whispers as she steps up beside me. She adjusts her black-framed glasses, scowling at a group of people walking behind me.
“Fuck off,” she snaps.
They quiet down, tittering under their breaths as they scramble away.
I sigh, turning toward her. “You don’t have to do that, Posie. I don’t want anyone pissed off. I was gone for a while; it’s just expected people will talk.”Though it doesn’t feel good in the slightest.
She shakes her head, disgust in her eyes. “No, it’s not okay. Talk has been quiet for months. No fucking use of digging up the dead just because you’re back in town.”
I chew on my lip, my eyes slipping to the side, seeing a group of girls with drinks in their hands, giving me the side-eye.
I let out a groan, dropping my head into my hands. “This is so fucking stupid. Why did Archer think this was a good idea to have this party again?”
She smiles. “Because he wants to show you off to the world, even when you aren’t his to show off.”
I shake my head, and as if he knew we were talking about him, he steps up to me, a red Solo cup in hand. He runs his fingers through his messy, tousled hair, a smile on his face.
“Next time you want to throw a party for me without asking, just know I’ll probably set fire to the boat before it starts,” I say sweetly.
He cocks his head to the side, danger in his eyes while a smile graces his lips. “You could try, Lake. I’ll have you tied up before you grab a match.”
I shove him away from me just as another group of people walk by, and I recognize a few of them from school last year. I give them a small wave, and they give me one back, though theirs is much more hesitant. Archer follows my eyes, and I clench my jaw as they smile broadly at me when Archer looks over, and the moment he turns back to me, they lift their eyebrows, their smiles dropping as they stare at me in annoyance, and an ounce of fear.
Shit.
My stomach bottoms out, and I turn back to the ocean, hating the feeling of being the topic of gossip. I’ve never enjoyed it, never liked being in the limelight. It’s been difficult, being a politician’s daughter, so staying away from it in my free time was always a goal. Right now, though, it feels impossible.
“You can’t be mad at me, Lakyn. We’ve got the big Halloween party coming up in a few weeks, and I can’t have you mad at me.”
Great, I totally forgot.
Halloween in Hellcrest Heights is big. The celebrations are excessive, and there isn’t one house that isn’t decorated, or doesn’t participate in the festivities. Archer has always found a way to throw a party one way or another. Last year it was at a cabin in the woods. The year before, it was on this ship. And the year before that, it was at one of the abandoned houses.
Though, last year comes back to me, a boomerang that refuses to leave. The party that we look forward to three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year turned into my very own horror movie.
I chill, wishing I could forgo the party altogether, yet knowing none of my friends would ever allow that, or consider it.
