Chapter 7
Sloane
It feels too soon to be back here, too soon for anything except the empty space Maddy left behind.
It's been only three weeks since she died, yet the library still seems to whisper her name with every soft murmur and rustling page.
I lean my forehead against the table, trying to breathe through the tight ache in my chest while her laugh rings in my ears.
I almost scream, but instead I scroll to Lucas's last text: "Are you getting this?
" I'm not sure I can face Maddy's brother yet, but I know I've got to start somewhere.
All around campus, the usual buzz of student life continues, the chatter and clatter that Maddy once brightened up with her energy.
Now, she's like a gentle ghost lingering in every corner, and I feel swamped by memories: late nights studying together with coffee cups scattered on our table, her random little comments that always managed to draw a smile out of me.
Shifting in my hard chair, I try to focus on the notebook in front of me, letting the steady rhythm of writing offer a little comfort.
But just when I settle in, her face slips between the lines like an unexpected visitor.
It's as if the silence around me fills up all the space she used to occupy, leaving my lungs tight with longing.
Even though the pain is still too fresh, I remind myself I need to live with it.
I wrap my arms around this loss, letting it crash through me until it dulls and reshapes.
I have to know who killed her, and that means coming back to this place, this life, even when her memory seems to pop up around every corner.
My phone's screen glares brightly in the dim light, a reminder of all the people I've been ignoring, condolences from folks who barely knew her, sent as if they understood how deep she ran.
But then there's Lucas, his texts short and hurried, filled with growing desperation.
"Are you getting this?" he asks again. The guilt of making him wait stings, so I type a simple, "Yes," let it hover for a moment, and hit send.
Later, I head over to the cozy coffee shop just off campus, a familiar refuge during exam weeks, even if now life feels split between me and Maddy's brother.
I see him before he sees me: a jumble of dark hair and eyes locked onto the table.
He's in his usual hoodie, though today it seems to swallow him up completely.
My heart jitters between relief and a nagging worry that maybe it's too late. Still, I force myself to walk over.
I almost don't recognize him. In just three weeks, Lucas has transformed, his face gaunt and hollow-cheeked, like grief has been physically carving away at him.
The dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn't slept in days.
He's lost so much weight that his hoodie, usually snug, hangs from his shoulders like it belongs to someone else.
"Hey," I say in a warm, friendly tone. I was always the cheerful one in our little trio, but it feels like a burden now.
He jumps a bit, his raw brown eyes meeting mine. His face is sharper now, etched with fresh grief, which twists something inside me.
"Hey," he replies, his voice rough as sandpaper. "I thought... Shit, Sloane, I wasn't even sure if you'd—"
"I'm sorry," I interrupt softly, easing into the chair beside him.
It feels odd sitting here without Maddy's infectious laugh and the way she filled the space with warmth.
I try again: "I should have… I'm really sorry."
He lets out a long, shaky exhale and runs a hand through his hair. It's greasy, unwashed. Another sign that he's barely holding it together.
"I didn't know where else to go."
I study him, Maddy's brother, a friend I've known almost as long as Maddy. He's breaking, and it's like looking into a mirror of my own pain.
"They're saying it was drugs," Lucas says, his voice fast, overlapping with doubt. "I don't—I don't believe it. Do you?"
"Of course not," I reply with more steadiness than I feel. "She'd never do that. She—" I pause, lost in the memory of Maddy curled up at her desk, totally absorbed in work she loved. "No. It wasn't drugs. I know it wasn't."
"Do you?" Lucas's tone turns sharp, and I flinch. "Do you really?"
He looks down, regret softening his anger for a moment as silence settles between us, a silence as messy as everything has felt since Maddy died.
His phone buzzes against the table, the screen lighting up with a text. Lucas snaps it up so quickly he almost knocks over his coffee. His eyes scan the message, and I watch as all the color drains from his face. His hand trembles as he shoves the phone into his pocket.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says too quickly. "Just... landlord. Rent's late again."
He laughs, but it's hollow and forced. "Can't seem to keep up with anything these days. They're threatening to evict me if I don't pay by Friday."
I lean forward, my heart beating faster.
"Lucas, they're wrong. We're going to prove it."
He shakes his head slowly, running his hand through his hair again. It's a nervous tic I've never noticed before.
"You didn't hear what they said, Sloane. They sounded so sure, like they really knew." He hesitates, glancing toward the door like he's expecting someone. "I... I thought maybe you'd heard something, that you really knew her. I thought..."
"I didn't know she was in trouble," I confess quietly. "But she wouldn't have been into drugs. Please, you have to believe that."
He sinks back in his chair, exhausted, angry, and frightened.
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
I look at him, taking in every raw edge and hurt, so similar to my own, though my grief feels a bit more controlled while his pours out all at once.
"We're going to find out what really happened," I insist, breaking through the looming quiet. "I promise. I won't let them say what they did about her."
He meets my gaze, and even a small, bitter smile flickers across his face.
"I should be the one promising that, shouldn't I?"
"Then promise me too," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We can't let them get away with this."
"Okay," he nods, and a slow determination returns to his eyes. "Yeah. Okay."
"We start now," I declare. "Who would want her dead?"
A shadow crosses his face, and he pulls back as if the table has suddenly closed in. He opens his mouth, then closes it, finally fixing his gaze on me, eyes so much like Maddy's that it feels like she's watching me too.
"You might not want to hear this," he admits in a low, heavy tone.
I hold my breath, waiting.
"She was seeing someone… someone bad news," he continues softly. "I told her not to get involved, but she didn't listen. She never listened." He pauses, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I shouldn't have let it happen."
"Who?" I ask, feeling a rush of dread.
"You didn't know, did you?" he whispers, shaking his head in a tired, sorrowful way. "Of course not. She knew you'd tell her to drop him, just like I did."
Maddy's voice echoes in my mind—bright, a bit defiant—and I realize I never really listened.
"So, who was he?"
"I don't know." His fists tighten for a moment before loosening. "She never told me his name."
I stare at him, a swirl of questions rising inside me. How had I not known? How could she keep this from both of us?
Lucas leans forward, his face pale and eyes full of urgency.
"We have to find him, Sloane. It's got to be him. There's no one else."
His voice is desperate, just like his texts or the calls I never answered.
I cling to his words as if they're an anchor.
"We will find him," I promise firmly. "We'll figure this out."
He seems about to say something important, but he stops himself. His eyes dart toward the window, and for just a moment, I see naked fear there.
"Lucas," I say carefully, "is there something else? Something you're not telling me?"
He swallows hard. "I'm just worried about you getting involved in all this. It could be dangerous."
"I can handle myself," I assure him.
"That's what Maddy thought too," he says, so quietly I almost miss it.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the gap between us disappears. We aren't the same people we used to be. Maddy changed that, and the secret she left behind stretches the distance between us. But for now, we're here together, clinging to what truly matters.
"It wasn't drugs," I say, my voice growing firmer. "And we both know she didn't just end up in an alley with a bullet by sheer chance."
Lucas winces, as if the truth is too heavy for him.
I continue, knowing that stopping now might mean never starting again.
"We're going to track down this guy she was seeing and figure out why Maddy never told anyone what was really going on. Even if…"
"Even if we might not want to know the answer," he adds quietly.
His phone buzzes again. This time, he doesn't even check it. He just stares at the pocket where it vibrates, like it's a ticking bomb.
We share a look, the weight of our questions hanging in the air. And for the first time in weeks, despite the fear, I feel a spark of purpose beneath it all.
"Okay," I say, with a new sense of resolve. "I'm going to start looking into it. You do the same, and we'll meet back here in…"
"Two days?" he suggests, shifting a bit as a fire kindles behind his eyes. "Or three? What do you think?"
I almost smile, even laugh a little, because he sounds so much like Maddy right now, full of that familiar confidence and determination.
"Two days," I decide. "By then, we'll have something. Even if it's just a little clue, it's better than nothing, right?"
A small knot in my chest eases a bit as we both stand up, neither willing to be the first to let down our guard. Lucas gives me one long, unreadable look before turning away.
"Sloane," he says, turning back suddenly. His face is a mask of desperation. "Whatever happens, please remember... I loved her. More than anything. Remember that, okay?"
The intensity of his plea catches me off guard. "Of course, Lucas. I know you did."
He nods once, like he's made a decision, then he's gone, shouldering his way through the coffee shop door.
Outside, the wind bites lightly at my skin as I leave the coffee shop. I take a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill every corner of me. Maddy's memory is everywhere, and this time, instead of feeling drowned by it, I let her memory pull me forward.