Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
W alking up the stairs toward where I hope the bathroom is, feels like it drags on for too long. I drag my feet down the hallway, finding a bedroom that has to be Sophie’s, and another with the door partially closed. That one I push open, revealing a larger bedroom bereft of many personal touches. A mirror on the far wall over the dresser shows me my wary expression, and I frown at myself before looking at the other door in the room.
“Reagan?” I call, no louder than I need to. “You in there?” I’m not sure where else she can be. Especially with the door closed and the light on.
But she doesn’t answer me. Instead, I have to walk further into the room, rubbing my arm through Cass’s hoodie and setting my teeth against the bad feelings bubbling to life in my chest. “Reagan?” I call again, and I barely get her name out of my mouth before the door opens, revealing her surprised expression.
“I didn’t think you cared enough to come check on me,” she says, a smiling curling over her face. “Your concern for my well being is noted and very appreciated.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, her customary grin back on her face.
Now it’s my turn to stay quiet. I stare at her, wondering whether I should pretend I don’t have questions and just go downstairs and watch the rest of the movie with her, or if I should let her know.
It definitely feels like one of my options might not end up in my favor, but I’m not sure what else to do.
“Can I talk to you?” My words are slow, measured, and even. I don’t want to sound like I’m accusing her of anything. Not yet. “Up here, where Sophie doesn’t give us those big sad eyes?” I smile at her, as if sharing an inside joke, and her own grin only gets wider.
“Always.” Stiffly, Reagan plops down on the edge of the bed, trying to hide her nervousness. But she’s not that good of an actor when she’s being confronted directly, and it only makes my heart race faster to see that she’s clearly expecting the worst.
“Sophie says her parents aren’t coming back until late tomorrow morning.” Reagan blinks at my words, and when she looks away from me to study the comforter beside her, I know I’m right. “Even though I swore you told me that they’d be back by eleven tonight. Remember?” I want to give her a way out, an excuse. Anything to make this less than what I’m thinking.
“They changed their minds,” Reagan tells me, looking guilty. “They called right before you got here. I figured I wouldn’t say anything and you could still leave after the movie was over. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to stay all night, too.” Her words are convincing, and she barely fidgets as I watch her, making this seem almost believable.
But not quite.
“Oh, yeah?” I move to lean against the dresser, hip cocked against it. “That’s fair, I guess.” I know she’s lying, but her shoulders slump slightly and she pushes to her feet.
“Sorry,” Reagan chuckles. “Let’s go finish Scooby Doo and the… ” she trails off, squinting. “Yeah, okay, I have no idea which one we’re watching. The only one that really matters is Zombie Island . That’s what you’ve always said, right?” She flashes me a quick smile that I don’t return.
I roll my shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. Can I ask you one more question, though?” She’s already walking, and by the time she stops, she’s level with me and glances up at me, her eyes curious.
“You can ask me anything, Winnie,” Reagan murmurs earnestly. “You should know that.”
But I don’t know that. And whatever’s going on here isn’t making me believe it, either. I scuff my foot along the floor, gazing over at the bed as I think.
There’s no easy out for this one.
Not one that I’ll believe, anyway.
“How’d you know?” The question comes out slow and patient. But Reagan just looks at me.
“How did I know what?”
If I ask her this, if I finish my question, there’s no going back from it. My stomach twists and flips, like my own internal Olympic gymnast is kicking at my insides when I gaze at Reagan with everything in me screaming to make up a lie or brush off my question.
Because this won’t end well.
It can’t .
“How’d you know I found a hammer in the slaughterhouse?”
She doesn’t answer. Reagan stares at me owlishly, and I can almost see the excuses forming behind her eyes. But I shake my head, frowning. “Don’t lie to me, Reagan. I didn’t tell you that, so don’t try to tell me that I did. The only person who knew about it was Cass.”
Reagan looks down at the floor, studying the carpet like we’ll be tested on it later.
“Can’t you just let it go?” she murmurs. “Everything would be so much easier if you let it go.”
I swallow, taking a deep breath as I try not to step away from her. That’s enough of an answer for me, and I want to scream at her.
“Fine.” I won’t let it go—obviously—but I’m not prepared for an all out confrontation with Reagan, right now. “We’ll talk about it some other time.” I move toward her, only for her to step backward, blocking the door with her slim frame.
She glances up at me, guilt across her features, and worries at her bottom lip. “I can’t…let you leave,” Reagan tells me finally. “I’m sorry, Winnie. But this is the only plan I can think of. I just need your help. Just for tonight, okay?”
Somehow I knew this was going to go poorly. But looking at her in the doorway, her eyes bright with anxiety and something else, I worry that this is going to go even worse than I’d expected.
“No. Move , Reagan. I’m leaving and I’m taking Sophie with me. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but?—”
“Of course you don’t.” Her eyes widen, and her voice is a low, suddenly disdainful sneer that makes me take a step back. “Because you’re too distracted to pay attention to me anymore.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, and I open my mouth to say so, only for her to start speaking again.
“I don’t know what else I have to do, Winnie.” She laughs ruefully, reaching up to anxiously comb her fingers through her hair. “I tried inviting you to everything. I’ve tried showing up so you’ll hang out with me. I even applied for a job at the diner. But you just never seem to notice. Frankly?” She closes her eyes hard. “It’s pretty shitty of you.”
“ Excuse me ?” Indignation wars with my sudden fear and I step closer to her, shoulders stiff. “Pretty shitty of me ? What are you talking about, Reagan? We’re friends, but we’re not attached at the damn hip. I have a life?—”
“No you don’t.” She cuts me off sharply and opens her eyes, hands falling to her sides before she moves to clasp them behind her back. “Get real, Winnie. Your mom hates your guts, and you’re just a free babysitter for your sister.”
The words hurt, turning my stomach into an aching, twisting knot.
“You work at a diner and live in your mom’s house. You barely have friends, and you have no life plans. You don’t have a life.” Reagan barks out a laugh and edges toward me. “God, I’ve been trying for years to help you. But you’re so difficult, you know that? You don’t realize everything I do for you.”
“Everything you do for me?” I think back on her constant texts and invitations, about her need to know what I’m doing way too often and penchant for nosing into my business. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re friends, Reagan, but let’s not act like you’ve gone out of your way for me.”
“You really don’t think so?” She seems…surprised. Maybe even offended. Again she bites her lip, chewing on it until I’m sure it’s going to bleed. “I have, though. You hated Lacey. You told me once that she was the meanest, shittiest girl you’d ever babysat. She hit you that once, remember? And lied to her parents about you?”
My fingers suddenly feel numb and cold, as if the blood is receding from them even as I flex my hands at her words.
“Yeah, but I mean…So what? She was just a kid, Reagan.” My words come out softer than I intend, and suddenly I wish I’d thought to message Cass when I realized something was off.
So much for me being smart in bad situations.
“She upset you.” Again she takes a step closer to me, prompting me to take a step back. “She deserved it, so don’t pretend she didn’t. She came into the diner a few weeks ago while you were working. Did you know that?” She sounds excited suddenly, like she’s about to tell me some juicy gossip. “She and her shitty little friends. They sat in their booth and made fun of you. They talked about you, about what their parents had said about you. Even when you were nice to them and brought them free extras, they were being cruel, Winnie. ” Her words become high and desperate by the end, and my heart is pounding too hard for me to reply.
“What about Edith? She was literally seventy, Reagan. She was nice to me, and left me big tips?—”
“She wouldn’t stop hugging you. You don’t like hugs from strangers. You barely even let me touch you. And she just wouldn’t stop! You’re not her grandkid, and yet she was always hugging you as if you wanted her to!”
“She was just kind!” I can’t help yelling, and Reagan steps back, obviously surprised. “She was kind to me, for fuck’s sake! So what if she hugged me? I work in the service industry, it happens!” I can feel my hands shaking at my sides as I look at her, incredulous and disbelieving. “What’s wrong with you?”
It’s the wrong question. Reagan jerks back, her expression shutting down. “You just don’t get it. But it’s fine, I sort of figured you wouldn’t.” She offers me a smile, like she’s forgiving me for something I’m certainly not apologizing for. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know you need a bit.”
“A bit?” God, I just can’t help myself. “I’d need a bit if I knew you were collecting my toenails or some shit. But you’re killing people to do me some…some sort of favor? Fuck, Reagan, absolutely not.” I force myself to walk forward, and she takes a few stumbling steps toward the door. “ Move ,” I snarl. “Or I’ll shove you right down the stairs with me.”
I probably won’t. Maybe. But it sounds good.
“I can’t.” She cringes and bites at her lip again. “I’m sorry, Winnie, I’m sorry. I know it’s not ideal, but I just don’t know what else to do. This was sort of spontaneous but it worked, so I have to go with it.” She’s rambling, explaining something to me that I have no context for.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just trying to fix it, okay? I’m trying to fix everything, so you won’t have to worry about other people fucking up your life. You can trust me, Winnie, I swear. Let me help you. Let me in, please.” She steps forward, until there are only inches between us.
“I just have to get rid of him first.”
It takes me two seconds to realize what she means. Two seconds too long to stumble away from her when I see her hand isn’t empty when it comes around her hip. I open my mouth to shriek, kicking out at her and causing her to nearly fall to the floor.
It’s enough. It’s just enough that I can slip past Reagan, and I lunge down the hallway towards the railing, reaching out as if it can be an anchor to pull me down the stairs and away from her.
But I didn’t get as much of a lead as I thought, and a hand grabs my hair and pulls a scream of pain from my mouth. Not when something small and cold is shoved into my lower back, and the zapping sound of electricity is followed by the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
And it’s certainly not enough when I pitch forward, my limbs no longer working, and my head hits the railing so hard that my world goes completely black and blessedly painless.