26. Olivia
Olivia
After that chat with Jordy, I sigh and sit on the edge of my bed, scrolling through SlamApp.
I have a few hours before the blood drive starts, and even then, I don’t have to show up on time.
So I keep scrolling through party pictures from multiple parties last night. Thankfully, I’m not in any of those.
As I set my phone down and rub my temples, JJ’s words from our study session come to mind. The way he swears, they had nothing to do with my death.
They weren’t in town. They didn’t know.
What is the truth?
My stomach drops as I realize what I need to do. Something I’ve avoided for over five years, conveniently burying my head in the sand and blindly doing my job.
So many people have told me what happened the night I was reborn into this version of Olivia. Jonathan, mostly.
Now it’s time to investigate for myself. A deep dive into the narrative I’ve been fed for years.
Getting up from my bed, I shakily plop into my computer chair and stare at the blank screen of my Veritas-issued laptop.
It’s now or never.
Time to go back to the beginning of everything. The catalyst to my demise. Everything I’ve ever known started right here in Greenwood.
The fire. My childhood. My boyfriends. My true family.
The fire shaped me into who I am today, and I still don’t understand everything that happened that night. Memories of the assault are always fresh in my mind. But after that? Getting out? Waking up in the hospital?
It’s blank.
Jonathan filled in those missing spots. He pulled me out. He got there in time, having been following Franco for years for his crimes.
But is it true?
My head swims when I click on my internet browser and stare at the blinking cursor, trying to gather every ounce of courage I have inside me to do what I need to do.
I need to go back to the beginning. I need to examine everything with new eyes and momentarily forget the past that’s been holding me down for so long.
So, with that in mind, I do the one thing I promised myself that I would never do and search for the Greenwood house fire.
Ignorance is bliss, right? Well, until now.
My entire body shakes when my fingers hover over the Enter key.
Come on, Liv. You can do this. You’ve never done this before.
You’ve always believed what others have told you.
Hit. Enter.
I swore I’d never look on the internet and solely live by what I remembered about them.
My mother. My sister. Even myself.
All the pictures we had together were erased in the flames of that day. I lived by memories alone. Reveling in the amazing times we shared. Even the bad times, which seemed to be more common the older I got and the worse my father became.
My breath pulls from my lungs as multiple news articles pop up on the screen with pictures of my house—or what was my house.
In the pictures, it’s nothing but a shell of a former home.
A few two-by-fours extend from the framing.
But the rest? The rest is a blackened mess of ash and embers, still trying to consume the place I once lived and was pulled from at my lowest point.
I blow out a breath, ignoring my churning stomach, and click the first link.
Greenwood Mourns the loss of a family of three.
Three unnamed victims were found after vicious flames had been extinguished.
Early Thursday morning, a neighbor called the authorities to investigate what looked like a forest fire.
Chief Investigator Collins reported that the home was completely engulfed in flames when they arrived, and they worked hard and efficiently to put it out.
Unfortunately, the occupants weren’t as lucky.
They’re still investigating whether the fire was malicious or accidental and will have more information later.
Bile rises in my throat as I read the words repeatedly. The article was published a few hours after the discovery, with no answers in sight. Clicking back, I find another story that makes my muscles lock.
Midnight Blaze: The Greenwood fire ruled an accident
“It’s a very unfortunate event that happened,” Neighbor Nathaniel Franco tearfully states, looking over the home that once sat on his property. “These were my neighbors, and to think they were trapped inside…”
Rage builds inside me at the picture of him standing outside the remnants of my home with a sad expression pulling down his features. He peers back at our house with an expression I can’t place.
Early Thursday morning, a devastating house fire claimed the lives of three members of the Viotto family. The victims have been identified as Espie Viotto, her young daughter Sophia Viotto, a student at Greenwood Elementary, and seventeen-year-old Olivia Viotto, a student at Greenwood High.
The fire was first reported at approximately 1:00 a.m. by local businessman and neighbor Nathaniel Franco, who has close ties to the Viotto family as their landlord and very close friend.
Mr. Franco reportedly noticed the flames, thought a forest fire had spread through the trees surrounding his home, and alerted authorities.
Fire crews arrived within minutes, but the small ranch home was deemed too far gone to save. Firefighters worked through the night to contain the blaze, saving the dense forest and battling the winds to keep the inferno in check.
“There was nothing we could do for the occupants inside. This fire burned hot and fast,” one firefighter notes with tears in his eyes. “I’d give anything to march through those flames and bring those women back.”
A preliminary investigation by the Fire Marshal has ruled the fire accidental, attributing it to faulty electrical wiring. Officials have noted that the home was an older structure and showed no signs of foul play.
A memorial service has been planned at Greenwood High for Espie, Sophia, and Olivia Viotto. Everyone is encouraged to come out and show their support for the three women lost to the unforgiving flames.
A funeral service will be announced at a later date and will take place at Greenwood Cemetery.
I barely contain the tears streaming down my cheeks. I choke back the sob begging to spill from my throat and shake my head.
Accidental. No foul play. Three bodies.
How is that even possible when I’m sitting right here?
I know they’d never report what truly happened, but to sit here and stare at Franco’s ugly, lying face as he reminisced about our family has my stomach turning more.
What an ugly thing to do to a mother and her two daughters. To watch the life drain from their eyes as you stab them and let them bleed out.
Nathaniel Franco better count his days. I swear to all things holy, I’m going to bring his empire to its knees and rid the world of the trash.
I close my laptop with the answers I dreaded sitting heavily on my shoulders. Maybe I shouldn’t have searched. Maybe I should have kept my head buried in the sand and…
No.
I wanted answers. Well, I’m getting what I wanted. Kind of. There’s still more mystery out there. More to discover. So I’ll continue investigating Franco and his heirs. I’ll continue getting close to them and hopefully make it through their intimations. Then, the real games start.
Whenever that is.
Checking the time, I’ve only wasted thirty minutes, so I decide to work on the group project I have with Mack and Wilder.
They may not be able to look through the only copy of the evidence, but I am.
I want to dive into this case anyway. It may be an unsolved case I can solve for the community.
Too soon, I’ll have to study with them, and I want to be prepared for our investigation.
Plus, it’ll take my mind off the pictures Simon took, and the conversation I had with Malic that I can’t remember, and the past creeping up behind me with a knife.
You know, the usual for me. Ugh. My life is way too complicated. I need a damn vacation after this. Jonathan had better send me to a deserted island so I can binge-watch TV shows, eat popcorn until I want to puke, and sleep for a year.
Too much stress is not good for the body.
Rubbing my temples, I blow out a slow breath and grab my phone. I find myself staring at the pictures Simon sent to Jordy again. Disgust rolls through me at the sight of my flushed face, glazed-over eyes, and my recording glasses resting on top of my disheveled head.
“I wish I could remember,” I groan to myself, rubbing my temples again. I’ve only been this drunk and blacked out a few times in my life. This is ridiculous. I don’t understand how I keep doing this to myself. Why do I let alcohol keep getting the better of me?
At least this time, I have an option to watch whatever I got up to last night.
I run my finger over the picture, circling the glasses on top of my head.
At least, I hope so. Hopefully they weren’t perched on my damn head the entire night.
Reaching over, I feel for my glasses on my desk and stop cold when my fingers find nothing.
My heart completely drops into my ass when my eyes connect to the empty spot where my glasses are usually charging.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Where the hell are my glasses?”
My blood runs cold as I tear apart my room, looking for my glasses.
An important part of my disguise. The very glasses that record every step I take, every breath I breathe, and all the people I talk to.
Sending the footage straight to the Veritas IT department, where they store it for investigations.
Fuck my fucking life.
I throw my head back, staring up at the white ceiling with my heart in my throat. I run my fingers through my short, shaggy hair, attempting to remove the worry.
But nothing can take away the dread building in the pit of my stomach, roaring up my throat, and choking me. My glasses are nowhere in sight. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished into thin air.
Okay, not so thin air.
They’re somewhere. Maybe around the dorm? In the living room? On a chair? Maybe I’m Dr. Seuss, and they’re everywhere.
I blow out a breath, trying really hard to extinguish the anxiety crawling on my skin like tiny ants marching all around.
It grows and grows like a fire brewing beneath my flesh until it’s a full-blown inferno taking over my mind.
I went to a party last night. A party that I shouldn’t have gotten drunk at.
A place where I let loose when I shouldn’t have.
Hello, Drunk Olivia, I’d like to introduce you to the consequences of your drunken actions.
Or however that saying goes.
Now, my glasses are gone.
In the back of my mind, I know exactly where they are.
A place that’ll be difficult to get them back from—Malic and Wilder’s house on Syndicate Row.
Or maybe not so difficult. I promised myself I wouldn’t go to any more parties at their house an hour ago, but now?
Now I have to go back and get them before they realize what they are.
For the second time today, I stare at a blank screen on my laptop. My fingers shake when I access the Veritas portal and search for the automatically uploaded video footage. Thank God I can track my glasses this way, or I’d be super screwed.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter to no one but the walls closing in on me.
My vision dims when the videos of my evening begin.
I go through every bit of my day, leading up to the party.
My first study session with JJ. My walk back to my dorm and to the party.
Meeting Simon and Daniel before the pink drinks arrived.
Everything was going smoothly. Laughing.
Fun. Letting loose. It was a damn party full of people excited to be there, watching the strippers, and consuming loads of alcohol.
“Fuck,” I grumble when I loudly complain about my glasses pressing down on my nose in the video and put them on top of my head—like in the picture Simon took.
We sing along to the song blasting through the packed party.
My cheeks heat when I seem to do a dance move and bump into Simon, who laughs loudly at my antics.
And then…
I wander off. Like Simon had mentioned earlier.
“Well, hello there, Oliver Davenport.”
“Malic,” I slur, stumbling slightly and saying something else in my blacked-out state.
Wonderful, Olivia. Make an even bigger ass of yourself.
“Careful now,” he coos softly. “You’ll break your pretty face if you’re not careful.”
“You think I’m pretty?” I hiccup.
“Hmmm,” he hums to himself as I sit behind this screen, mortified beyond belief. I want the floor to swallow me whole and never spit me back out.
How can this get any worse?
Malic mutters something my glasses don’t pick up, but I get the feeling he’s leaning in close, whispering something into my ear. I don’t seem to react in the video. In fact, I don’t do anything. I don’t pull away. I don’t run away. I stand there and let his breath hit my neck.
We stand there for a few seconds before Simon appears. Thank God for Simon.
“Oli!” Simon’s voice rings out, and I seem to get yanked away from a chuckling Malic. Then, it happens. The video blurs as my glasses fall from my head and land in the midst of the party. Well, until a very familiar face comes into view, examining them with a sharp eye.
My entire body tingles as he tucks the glasses into his pocket, and the video goes dark and stops recording altogether, leaving me with a very bitter taste in my mouth because Malic the Maniac Monroe has my glasses.
And I’ll have to track him down and ask for them back.