Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
November 11th, 2022
Hawthorne University, Mills Creek, Massachusetts
T he echoes of Lilia’s footsteps bounced off the walls of the university’s ancient corridor, her mind drifting as she walked. The days had blurred together since that night at the hotel, each one a fog of sleepless nights and endless questions. The final exam that she had just completed barely registered; her thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the lingering shadows of the secrets she and her friends were still unraveling.
She was almost at the exit when a voice called out, pulling her back to the present. “Ms. Chen, a moment?”
She turned, seeing Professor Jameson standing just outside his office, the door ajar. He offered her a small, warm smile, his usual calm demeanor in place.
Lilia adjusted her books in her arms and approached him. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he reassured her, gesturing toward his office. “I just wanted to have a quick word about your final paper.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She knew the paper hadn’t been her best work—her mind had been too preoccupied with everything else. Still, she had hoped that it wouldn’t be noticeable.
“Sure,” she replied, following him inside.
The office was small and cluttered, filled with stacks of books, old papers, and the lingering scent of aged leather. Jameson closed the door gently and leaned against his desk, folding his arms.
“Your paper was . . . well, wonderful, as usual,” he began, his eyes scanning her face. “But I noticed a decline in its depth and engagement compared to your previous ones.”
Lilia shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I know. It’s just . . . with everything going on, I had a really hard time choosing a topic. I don’t think it was something that I was passionate about.”
Jameson nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Lilia.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I never asked how you were, not really. You have a bright future, but it’s okay to take a break, you know?”
She felt a pang of guilt at his concern, the kind that came from knowing how much she was keeping from him. “Yeah. I don’t see that happening anytime soon, but thank you for the talk, Professor Jay.”
He gave her a knowing look, but didn’t press further. “Just . . . keep it in mind.”
Lilia nodded, making a mental note to let her guard down just enough to appease him. She shifted her books, ready to leave, when Jameson spoke again, his tone more casual.
“Oh, and tell your mother that I received her invitation. I’m looking forward to attending the fundraiser.”
Lilia blinked, surprised he had mentioned it. “I’ll be sure to let her know.”
Jameson’s smile was almost self-deprecating. “It’s a formal event, correct? I’m not sure my pea coat will fit in quite well.”
“Black tie, actually,” she replied with a half-laugh. “My mother is hosting it for the first time, so . . . it’s a bit much, I know. But a suit should be fine.”
She turned to leave, but something nagged at the back of her mind. “Actually,” she began, turning back around. “You had Willow in your Women and the Law class, right?”
Jameson nodded. “I did, yes.”
“Those last few days before spring break, did she seem different during the lecture?”
Jameson frowned, his brow knitting together as he considered the question. “No, not that I can recall. She was very engaged and passionate about the subject. She loved it. Willow was a very bright student. It’s a shame what happened to her.”
“Yeah,” Lilia murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, it is. I should head out,” she said. “I’ve got one more exam before the break that I need to study for.”
Jameson nodded, his expression warm. “Good luck with your exams, Lilia. And take care of yourself.”
She offered a small, grateful smile before turning to leave. The door of the Hilton building creaked as Lilia pushed it open, the cool autumn air rushing to greet her. She paused for a moment, letting the brisk breeze wash over her before she descended the steps. As she reached the bottom of the steps, she spotted Augustus leaning against the railing, a paper cup in each hand. His presence was steady, a contrast to the storm of thoughts in her head. He looked up as she approached, a small, almost hesitant smile playing on his lips.
“Hey,” Lilia greeted him, her voice soft. The air between them still held tension from their last conversation a few nights ago, the unspoken words hanging between them like a veil.
“Hey,” Augustus replied, handing her one of the cups. “Got your usual.”
Lilia took the cup with a nod of thanks, her fingers brushing his for a moment. The warmth of the coffee seeped into her hands, a welcome comfort against the chill. “Thanks,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the ground as they fell in step together, heading toward the library.
The silence stretched between them as they walked, punctuated by the rustle of the leaves underfoot and the distant hum of campus life. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was heavy with the weight of everything they weren’t saying to one another.
“Gus,” she started as they walked down College Avenue, the words ever heavy on her tongue. The question had been nagging her for days, an insistent whisper in the back of her mind. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” The question was so random, so nonsensical, it hung in the air between them like a fog.
Augustus was silent for a few moments, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if searching for the right words. Finally, he looked at her. “I think you’re the best of us.”
She shook her head, scoffing. “We did something terrible,” she murmured, the weight of their actions pressing down on her. It wasn’t just the act itself, but the way that it lingered in the shadows of their lives, tainting everything that they touched. Like some disease.
“We did what we had to do,” Augustus replied. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more, himself or her at this point. “We didn’t have a choice.”
“That doesn’t make it okay. It makes it worse,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The rationalizations they’d used to get through each day felt hollow now, empty shells of justification that did nothing to ease her guilt.
Augustus stopped walking and turned to her, catching her hand in his. His grip was gentle but grounding, an anchor in the storm of her emotions. “Hey,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity. “You’re the best person I know.”
Lilia searched his face, looking for something—reassurance, absolution, anything that would help her believe him. But all she could see was the same guilt, the same fear reflected at her. It was a reminder that they were both trapped in this together, bound by secrets far too dark and obscene to share.
“Did you find anything about who the man is?” she asked, needing to shift the conversation, to focus on something— anything —other than the darkness that loomed over them.
“I don’t know. There’s no name, there’s nothing.”
Lilia sighed. “It’s like every time we think we’re getting closer, we just find more questions.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“What happens if we don’t? Then what?”
Augustus opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the soft sound of Lilia’s phone.
“What is it?” Augustus peered over her shoulder.
Breaking News: Local College Students Remains Found
Lilia’s heart raced as she read the notification, the letters blurring together for a moment as the weight of the words settled over her. Local college student’s remains found. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the ground beneath her feet suddenly unstable. Augustus was watching her closely, his expression unreadable, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands tightened around his cup. He didn’t have to ask what she was thinking—they both knew. The dark, terrible secret they shared was threatening to unravel, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
“Lilia,” Augustus said quietly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “We need to go somewhere private.”
She merely nodded, allowing him to guide her away from the bustling campus, down a quieter path that led to a secluded corner of the quad. The air was cold, biting against her skin, but she hardly even noticed. All she could think about was that night—how the headlights caught Jacob’s figure in the darkness, the sickening thud as Willow’s car hit him, the way his body crumpled to the ground.
They had panicked. All of them. They had buried Jacob’s body near the turnoff by Henderson Road, praying that no one would find him. But they were wrong.
“His parents identified his remains,” she whispered. “They’re having the funeral this Sunday.”
His face was pale, his eyes darkened with guilt. “We didn’t have a choice. He was dead, Lilia. There was nothing we could do.”
“But we left him there,” she said, shaking her head in disgust at herself—at her actions. “We just left him there, and we didn’t tell anyone. We let his parents think that he was missing all this time. How could we . . . ?”
He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Listen to me. We had no other option. If we had called the police, we would all be in jail right now. Willow would’ve gone to prison. Her life would’ve been ruined.”
“Maybe that’s what we all deserve, Gus. We deserve to be in jail, not finishing exams. Or going to parties, breathing. We took someone’s life, we did that. And yet, we get to walk around every day in this town like nothing happened. We are horrible people. Nothing that you say is ever going to change that. We deserve hell for what we did.”
Augustus said nothing because she was right.
They were horrible people—murderers.
It didn’t matter how much they told themselves they were searching for . In the end, they were only running from guilt.
No matter how much they tried to bury it, the weight of what they had done was suffocating, the guilt eating away at them like a slow poison. And now, with Jacob’s body found, it was only a matter of time before someone figured out the truth of what they’d done.
The camera lens focused on them, capturing a moment that felt too intimate for the bustling quad. The way Augustus leaned in, his hand grazing Lilia’s shoulder, and how she tilted her head just slightly toward him, spoke volumes to the stranger behind the lens. They seemed wrapped in a conversation that excluded the world, their expressions serious. The photographer hesitated for a second before snapping the photo—preserving the fleeting connection.