26. Willow
I twist another curl into place, pinning it back to frame my face. The sight in the mirror catches me off guard. The girl staring back looks confident, glamorous even. I almost don’t recognize her.
The gold shimmery dress hugs my body perfectly, the fabric catching the light with every subtle movement. It’s strapless, with a sweetheart neckline that accentuates my collarbones, and a flowing skirt that flares out slightly at the waist, cascading to the floor like liquid sunlight. Tiny sequins are embedded in the fabric, giving it a starry effect as they glimmer in the warm glow of the room.
I run my hands down the skirt, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and take a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to prom,” I mutter to myself, adjusting a loose strand of hair.
The thought feels surreal, almost like stepping into someone else’s life. This isn’t just any prom—it’s my prom. A night that seemed impossible a few weeks ago. And I’m not going alone. Cast and Vincent insisted, of course, their arguments charming and relentless. And then there’s Damien. I’m not even sure he’ll show up, but the hope lingers in my chest, making my pulse quicken.
I picture them: Cast’s playful smirk as he teases me about how he’ll be the best-dressed guy there, Vincent’s steady confidence as he insists he’ll make sure tonight is unforgettable, and Damien—his quiet strength, the way he always seems to look out for me, even when he doesn’t say much.
Tonight isn’t just prom—it’s a chance to feel normal, even if just for a few hours. To laugh, to dance, to live in a moment that belongs to me. To us.
Tonight, I am going to ask them to come with me to RISD, or at least let us continue this during the breaks. I am going to admit out loud to them that I want them and pray they don’t reject me.
The knock at the door startles me, breaking through my thoughts. My heart leaps with anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding my veins. Setting the curling iron down, I make my way to the door, the soft rustle of my dress accompanying me.“They’re early,” I whisper, smoothing my dress one last time before walking toward the door, the soft rustle of the fabric trailing behind me. My hand hesitates on the doorknob for a moment, my pulse thrumming with the promise of what’s to come.
As I open it, a confused smile forms on my lips—until I see him.The man stands there, his face hidden behind a black ski mask. My heart drops, fear gripping me in an instant.
“Who—” The question barely escapes my lips before he lunges forward.
I stumble back, his gloved hand clamping over my mouth before I can scream. Panic floods my system as I thrash against him, my fists pounding uselessly against his chest.
“This is for the future queen,” he snarls, his voice low and menacing.
The words send a chill down my spine, their meaning lost in the chaos of the moment. I twist and struggle, my heels scraping against the hardwood as he forces me further into the room.
I manage to bite down hard on his hand, and he jerks back with a curse. The brief release gives me just enough time to grab the nearest thing—a heavy glass vase from the dresser.
With all the strength I can muster, I swing the vase at his head. The impact shatters the ceramic into jagged pieces, sending shards flying and the man stumbling back. His grip on me loosens just enough for me to wrench free.
“Help!” I scream, my voice hoarse and desperate as I dart toward the door, my heart pounding in my ears.
But he recovers quickly, his movements eerily calm and calculated as he blocks my escape. His masked face tilts slightly, as if mocking my efforts. My chest heaves, terror clawing at my throat as I frantically search for anything else I can use.
My eyes land on the curling iron still plugged in on the vanity. I lunge for it, the hot metal scorching my palm as I wrap my fingers around it. Adrenaline pushes me forward, and I swing it with every ounce of strength I have, the heated barrel landing squarely against his arm.
He lets out a sharp hiss of pain, the mask slipping slightly as he stumbles back. My breath catches as the familiar face beneath is revealed. Ricardo.
“Ricardo?” My voice trembles with disbelief, a crushing weight settling in my chest. He was supposed to protect me, to keep me safe. “You’re the mole?!”
He rips the mask off completely, his face twisted with anger and something darker. “You stupid bitch,” he growls, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re ruining everything. This is for the future queen.”
The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical blow. My knees threaten to buckle as I step back, gripping the curling iron like a lifeline. “Why?” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I trusted you!”
Ricardo sneers, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “You were never more than a job. And now, you’re just in the way.”
His words hit like a slap, but I don’t have time to process the pain. He lunges for me again, and I swing the curling iron wildly, forcing him to keep his distance. My mind races, desperate for a way out, for help.
The door. If I can just make it to the door…
Ricardo lunges again, his hands reaching for me, but I don’t give him the chance. With the curling iron still hot and gripped tightly in my hand, I swing it with everything I have, aiming for his face. The impact lands hard, the searing heat making him scream in pain as he stumbles backward.
I don’t stop. I can’t. The adrenaline coursing through my veins takes over as I grab a shard of the broken vase from the floor. My hands tremble, but the primal need to survive outweighs my fear.
“Stay back!” I warn, my voice trembling but fierce.
Ricardo doesn’t listen. His face twisted in pain and rage, he charges at me again, and I act on instinct. As he reaches for me, I drive the jagged shard into his side.
The sound he makes—a mix of a gasp and a groan—cuts through the air as he stumbles, clutching his side. Blood seeps through his shirt, dark and spreading fast.
I back away, my chest heaving, tears blurring my vision. “I didn’t want this,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
He slumps against the wall, his breath labored. His eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, there’s something almost human in them—something that looks like regret. But it’s too late. His body slides to the floor, lifeless.
I drop the shard, my hands trembling as I stare at the blood staining my dress, the golden shimmer now marred by deep red streaks. My chest tightens, and a sob escapes my lips as I press my back against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor.
The room is eerily silent except for the sound of my ragged breathing. My mind races, replaying the events in a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. Ricardo. Someone I trusted. Someone who betrayed me.
The reality of what just happened settles over me like a heavy weight. I killed him. I didn’t have a choice, but the guilt already begins to claw its way into my chest.
The sound of the front door creaking open jolts me out of my daze. My heart leaps into my throat as I hear footsteps approaching. For a fleeting second, I think it might be Vincent or Cast—but when my father steps into the room, the relief is short-lived.
His eyes take in the scene in an instant: the broken vase, Ricardo’s lifeless body slumped against the wall, and me—blood-streaked, trembling, and slumped on the floor.
“What the hell happened?” he demands, his voice sharp but not unkind.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. A sob breaks free instead, and I bury my face in my hands. “I didn’t mean to,” I choke out. “He… he attacked me, and I?—”
“Willow,” he says, his tone firm but steady as he crouches down in front of me. “Listen to me. Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. “No, but I?—”
“Good.” He cuts me off, standing and stepping over to Ricardo’s body. He doesn’t flinch as he examines the scene, his jaw tightening. When he turns back to me, his expression is unreadable.
“You can’t stay here,” he says, his voice low but urgent.
“What?” I blink at him, confusion and panic surging in equal measure.
“You can’t stay,” he repeats, already moving with swift precision. He grabs a dish towel from the counter and tosses it to me. “Wipe off your hands and arms. Quickly.”
“But—”
“No buts, Willow.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “The police won’t care that this was self-defense. They’ll see you, see him, and they’ll make you the villain. I won’t let that happen.”
He disappears into the hall for a moment, returning with a set of car keys. He crouches in front of me again, his gaze intense but not unkind.
“Take my car. Drive to your Aunt Clara’s. She’ll keep you safe until I figure this out.”
My mind reels. “But I can’t just leave you here with… this.” I gesture helplessly at Ricardo’s body.
“Yes, you can.” His voice softens, but the determination in it doesn’t waver. “You don’t have a choice, Willow. I’ll handle this. I’ll take the blame if I have to. But you need to go. Now.”
Tears stream down my face as I stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s sacrificing himself for me, and it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.
“I—” My voice cracks, but I force myself to speak. “What about Vincent and Cast? Damien? I can’t just leave them.”
He places a hand on my shoulder, his grip steady. “You can’t think about them right now. This isn’t just about you, Willow. It’s about staying alive, staying free. They’ll understand. Or they won’t. But you can’t stay here and find out.”
His words slice through me, but I nod, knowing he’s right. With shaky hands, I clean myself up as best as I can, my mind racing. Images of Vincent’s smirk, Cast’s mischievous grin, and Damien’s quiet intensity flash through my mind, each one stabbing at me with guilt and longing.
Before I know it, I’m in the car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My father stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, as I pull out of the driveway.
As the house disappears in the rearview mirror, I let out a choked sob, the weight of everything crashing down on me. The thought of leaving them—Vincent, Cast, Damien—feels like a hot brand down my throat, but I can’t turn back. I can’t look at what I’ve done to protect them. To protect me.