“It’s silver, in the shape of a butterfly,” I explain. “I found it in a box of my things, but it isn’t mine.”
“What makes you think I put it there?” he demands, raising an eyebrow. “It probably is one of yours. You just forgot you had it, and you’re so paranoid about making me the bad guy you’ll jump to any conclusion you can.”
“So, you don’t know Faith?” I ask him. “She was found dead the other day. She waited on us at the restaurant. She was seeing a police officer, and—”
“Who told you all of this?” Branden interjects harshly. “Honestly, Hannah, you sound ridiculous.”
“Just tell me you didn’t do it,” I whisper, and I’m surprised by just how earnest I sound. Desperate. “Tell me, Bran. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Do what?” he hisses, advancing a step, his hands in fists. “Catch you fucking a criminal? Lie to our parents when you disappear for days, Hannah? Think you were on your way to only God knows where? If Liam didn’t spot you when he did—” he exhales with a gruff sound akin to a growl. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend about who’s been planting shit on you? You really have no idea what he’s capable of. Do you? Don’t tell me you’re dumb enough to think he’d be interested in you for no reason. To him, you’re just leverage. Don’t believe me?”
A tendril of doubt sneaks into my brain. After all, Rafe was the one who moved my things from my apartment in the first place. He had more than enough opportunity to hide something in a seemingly random box of trinkets.
But…
“Something else was missing from my things too,” I say, watching Branden for any hint of a reaction. “A gold bracelet. Does that ring a bell?”
“Jesus Christ, Hannah! Why are you trying to provoke me? Do you want me to fuck up again, huh? Like what you made me do the last time.”
I stiffen at the reminder.
Last time.
A fit of violence triggered because of me.
Everything he does is always because of me, even now. I’m the reason for the flush of red creeping across his neck, visible even in the dark. I’m the reason why his hands are twitching as if he’s having to physically stop himself from striking me again. I’m the reason for his lack of control.
“Answer me!”
“Did you hurt that girl?” I ask instead. God, I can barely get the words out.
But they ring hollow. Laughing, he rolls his eyes. “What girl? Or is this just another game, Hannah? How you avoid blame. There’s always another girl, isn’t there? Like Lexi?” He scoffs when I recoil. “Ah, but you wouldn’t want to use that memory against me, Hannah? When it was your fault that she died. You wouldn’t be trying to delude yourself into thinking otherwise, would you? Enough!” He snaps his fingers. “Come home—”
“You killed her.” My voice breaks, robbing the accusation of any grit. Regardless, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever said those words out loud.
Am I referring to Faith? Or Lexi?
I don’t even know anymore.
Rather than react in anger, Branden just keeps laughing. “Hannah, stop it. You know how crazy you sound?”
He advances another step, and I nearly trip in my rush to put distance between us.
“Don’t touch me—”
“Come home,” he snarls. “Now. While Dad remains clueless about how much of a little whore you really are. While he’s still paying for your fucking, stupid school. But will he if he knows the truth, Hannah?”
I blink in confusion. “The truth?”
His smile turns feral—I’ve taken his bait. “That you’re out here selling sex tapes on the internet while he funds your education? Or your school… Do you think that liberal fucking college would like to know one of their students is an online video star?”
I can feel the blood drain from my face as I stop dead in my tracks. “You didn’t…”
“I will,” he says coldly. “Unless you come with me now. I love you, Hannah, but if you want to act like a whore, I will treat you like one. Now come home—”
“Why?” I demand, evading his grasping hand. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you,” he insists. “I do. So, make your choice right now. Come home with me, or learn the hard way—I’m the only one you can ever trust.”
He reaches for me again, but I shirk his grasp. Again. Again. Eventually, several feet of space separate us, but he just watches me, stunned.
“Hannah—”
“I could still tell,” I hear myself say in that stranger’s broken tone. “Daddy. The police. Everyone.”
“Tell them what?”
My heart despairs at the answer. One that’s haunted me for the past ten years. “That you were never worth the benefit of the doubt.”
“You little bitch… If you think I’m the liar, then where is your proof, huh?” He eyes my bag, his nostrils flaring. “Where is it?”
When he comes for me this time, I turn on my heel and run.
“Hannah!” His voice chases me as I dart between two parked cars and cross the street. He’s on my heels. His heavy pants lash at the air, his footsteps slamming against the pavement—but with every step I gain, they grow distant, until only his shouts can reach me.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow night, Hannah. One fucking night! You come to me when you’re ready to learn your lesson, or the world will learn the truth about you—you were always just a lying little whore!”
Tears lash at my cheeks as I keep moving, darting from alley to alley and street to street. Eventually, I no longer recognize my surroundings, and only fear keeps me going, driving me further into an increasingly industrial area where warehouses and office buildings take up most of the real estate.
I’m too busy replaying Branden’s threat to even care that I’m lost. Would he truly do that? Post whatever he recorded on the internet. Make it seem like I did it. Lie. Cheat. All to
