Chapter 1
Chapter One
October 30th, 2022
Calamity Hills Church, Mills Creek, Massachusetts
T hey were liars, bound by tales that dripped from their lips like soft fallen honey, melting and molding every inch of their life into a cesspool of betrayal. They had become accustomed to it—the lies, the deceit that seemed to follow them wherever they went. One lie became another, and then another, until eventually they weren’t sure where the truth began, and where the lies ended anymore. It was all tethered to that night; that fateful night when their innocence, what bit was left no thanks to the world, had vanished right before their eyes. But they had long since stopped blaming Willow for their inability to tell the truth. She was dead. This was on them.
Their sins were their own now.
Death is a paradox, Lilia mused as she stood amid the sea of mourners in the dimly lit church. It strips away the facade of permanence, revealing the fragility of human existence. Life, so vibrant and full of promise, can be extinguished in an instant, leaving behind only memories and sorrow. The air was heavy with grief, the weight of loss pressing down on her chest like a leaden cloak. She glanced around at the sad faces, the tears glistening in the flickering candlelight. Willow’s funeral was a stark reminder of life’s fragility, a cruel twist of fate that had snatched away their friend far too soon.
Lilia’s gaze drifted to the front of the church where Willow’s casket lay draped in flowers, a silent testament to the tragedy that had befallen them. It felt surreal, standing there amid the hushed whispers and stifled sobs as if she was trapped in a nightmare from which she would never wake. The weight of it pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. As she glanced around the room, she winced.
You would think she’d be used to it by now.
The stares.
The soft murmurs followed by widened eyes and looks of sympathy, some even intoned with speculation and slit irises declaring that she was a suspect. You would think that they wouldn’t hold weight anymore after the six months following the disappearance, but they did. They were like thorns in her side, never leaving, never wavering. Like a bad cold, or a stench.
She shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, her eyes flicking to her friends for reassurance. They stood together, a tight-knit group that seemed impenetrable to outsiders, yet within their ranks, the weight of their secrets was a heavy burden.
Sebastian, with his tall frame, just a bit shorter than Augustus, subtly reached into his jacket pocket, producing a small flask. His nearly black hair fell across his forehead, barely hiding the mischievous gleam in his blue eyes. He took a quick, furtive sip before passing it to Delilah, who merely shook her head but couldn’t suppress a small smile.
“Really, Seb? At a funeral?” Augustus whispered harshly, his brow furrowed in disapproval.
Sebastian shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “What? I thought Willow would appreciate a little rebellion.”
Delilah softly chuckled, but the sound was tinged with sorrow. “She probably would’ve.”
Eleanor, standing slightly apart from the group, fidgeted with her necklace, her heart-shaped face paling even more under the dim lighting. Her wide blue eyes darted around nervously before she caught Lilia’s gaze and offered a small, tight-lipped smile. Lilia returned it, squeezing Eleanor’s hand briefly in a gesture of comfort.
The priest’s voice echoed through the church, offering words of solace and comfort, but Lilia found it hard to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the last time she had seen Willow Montgomery. It had been a night filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. They had danced, their laughter echoing across the lake as they revealed in the freedom of youth. But now, the joy seemed to be like a distant memory, overshadowed by the specter of death that loomed over them all. Willow’s absence cast a pall over everything, a gaping hole in the fabric of their lives that would never be mended.
Everyone knew the story of the night Willow went missing. It had practically become an urban legend in this prim, squeaky-clean town. On the surface, Mills Creek was the epitome of idyllic small-town life; pristine lawns, stately homes, and a sense of community that bordered on the claustrophobic. The elite of society lived here, their secrets buried as deep as their old money roots. The town was home to Hawthorne University, an Ivy League institution where appearances were everything, and reputation was worth its weight in gold.
The final strains of the hymn faded into silence, and the mourners began to file out of the church, their solemn faces a representation of the lifeless October air outside. Lilia paused on the steps, her eyes searching the crowd until they landed on the figures of Willow’s family.
“Shit,” Sebastian murmured from her side, under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hushed whispers.
The moment they laid eyes on Willow’s family, a sense of dread settled over them like a suffocating blanket.
Her mother, a picture of inconsolable grief, locked eyes with Lilia and her expression darkened with fury. Without a word, she stormed toward them, her steps heavy with purpose.
“Mrs. Montgomery?—”
With a sudden motion, she lashed out, her hand connecting with Lilia’s cheek in a sharp slap.
“How dare you show your face here,” she seethed, her voice laced with venom. “After what you did to my baby, you have the nerve to come here and pretend to mourn her?”
The town seemed to form lies quickly after Willow’s murder was announced. Pointing fingers at anyone they could. The townsfolk just needed someone to blame, and who made an easier target for mindless conspiracies and futile attacks than the blonde’s closest friends? The rumors spread like a wildfire.
Lilia had always been in Willow’s shadow, at her side, pandering like some trained lap dog. Always ready to do her bidding. They had been the closest. So, of course, she must have killed her, right?
Lilia recoiled from the blow, her cheek burning with the sting of the slap. “I didn’t—” she began, but Willow’s mother cut her off with a vicious tirade.
“You were always jealous of her,” she accused, her voice rising with each word. “You and your friends think you can waltz in here and take everything she has. I hope you all rot in hell for what you’ve done.”
Willow’s father stepped forward, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “You didn’t protect her,” he accused, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “You failed her when she needed you the most.”
Sebastian moved instinctively to shield Lilia from the onslaught, his stance protective as he faced off against Willow’s father. “Back up,” he warned, his voice low with resolve. “Touch her, and you’ll regret it.”
“Enough,” Augustus declared, his tone commanding attention. “This is all a misunderstanding. There’s been a ton of misinformation going on about that night, but I promise you, we had nothing to do with what happened to Willow. I loved her—still love her. We were her friends.”
Amelia stepped forward, her voice soft with compassion as she addressed her parents. “Please,” she implored, her eyes pleading. “Please stop this. Let’s just go, please. We’re causing a scene.”
“This isn’t over,” Thomas threatened.
“Dad, please,” Amelia tugged at his arm. “Stop this. Willow wouldn’t have wanted this.” Her father brushed the brunette away roughly. “Let’s go home, okay?”
Reluctantly, Willow’s family turned and left, leaving the five friends standing in the aftermath of their confrontation. As the tension dissipated, Sebastian couldn’t help but break the silence with a joke. “Well, that was fun,” he quipped, pulling out his flask once again. “Same time next week, guys?”
Augustus rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. “I still can’t believe you brought that,” he muttered, his tone filled with disbelief.
Sebastian grinned. “A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Besides, it’s not like Willow’s here to scold me.”
“Show some respect,” Augustus snapped, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
“She would’ve thrived on this, you know,” Delilah said, glancing back at the church. “The attention, the people crying over her.”
Sebastian snorted. “She did love being the center of attention.”
Augustus’ expression softened. “But she didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”
As they made their way to the parking lot, a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking their path.
“Augustus, Lilia, Delilah, Sebastian, and Eleanor.” A man in a clad black suit approached them. His expensive watch flashed in the setting sun. “I need you all to come down to the station,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
Augustus paused in his movements, raising his brow. “We’ve already talked to the police?—”
“Who are you?” Lilia interjected.
“Detective McCall.” He flashed his badge. “It’s important for you five to come down to the station now that this is no longer a missing person’s investigation.”
Augustus frowned, suspicion darkening his eyes. “Do you think we had something to do with this? With what happened to Willow?”
Eleanor made a small sound. “What—no, you have to be joking, right? Willow was our best friend. We didn’t have anything to do with this.”
The detective’s face remained impassive. “It’s routine.”
Augustus shook his head. “No. I’m the DA’s son. I know how this works, remember?”
Detective McCall sighed, clearly frustrated but not backing down. “Please, just come with me. It will make this a lot easier for everyone if you just cooperate.”
“And if we don’t?” Sebastian challenged, his tone defiant.
The detective’s response was measured, his eyes betraying none of the thoughts swirling behind them. “You five were the last ones to see Willow alive,” he explained, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Augustus, always quick to question authority, chimed in. “What, so we’re suspects now?” he demanded, his voice tinged with disbelief.
McCall shrugged. “Depends on what you know,” he replied cryptically.
Lilia exchanged a glance with her friends as they reluctantly followed the detective across the lot—the weight of the town’s gaze followed them, the whispers growing louder as they stepped deeper into the harsh overcast of the day. The detective’s car waited, a symbol of the new reality they were about to face. The small, well-off town of Mills Creek, with its Ivy League university and its high-powered residents, was no place for a scandal. Yet, here they were, bound by secrets and lies, each step they took echoing the fragility of human existence.
“Just a moment,” he instructed, gesturing for them to stay put. “I need to speak to one of my colleagues. Stay here.”
As the detective walked away, leaving them standing by his car, Augustus spoke up, his voice low and urgent. “Say nothing. Remember what we rehearsed,” he reminded them, his eyes darting between each other and his friends.
“Don’t say anything about that night. Nothing that we haven’t said before,” Delilah added quickly, her voice tinged with anxiety.
“You don’t think that they know about the—” Eleanor started, but Lilia cut her off.
“No,” Lilia interjected firmly. “The only other person who knows about that night is dead. And it’s going to stay that way.”
Sebastian knocked back another drink from his flask, his face solemn. “To the grave—remember?” he murmured, the weight of their shared secret hanging heavy in the air.
“ To the grave ,” they replied in unison, a solemn oath sealing their pact.