8:57 a.m.
Crumpled on the floor like a used tissue, Ada is nothing like she used to be.
After the attempted baptism incident, I didn’t see her for over a month. Laura’s best friend was turning seven—I think—and all the neighborhood kids had been invited to bring her presents. It had the bonus of giving the parents another reason to openly drink during the day. Adelynn had just turned four not long before. It was the only reason Hailey talked to me again; she wanted to gush about the party. Laura had been there with her dad, and Adelynn’s mom had spilled a drink on him. Then, they’d gone to the bathroom for “a really long time just to clean up some juice.”
At the birthday party, Adelynn was confetti. Her white poof of a skirt had multicolored sparkles on it. When I asked where she’d gotten it, she beamed with pride and told me she’d glittered it herself. Knowing the little I do about her mother, I don’t know how she managed that. Her outfit and smile lit up the backyard, stealing attention from the tiara, tutu, and wings the birthday girl wore. Laura spent more time with her four-year-old friend than she did the ham she called a best friend.
Now I see Ada, and she’s drab. Gray sweater with gray leggings, black boots, and a dark burgundy coat. I wonder where the glitter went. When did she stop being Hailey’s sweetheart?
The tote bag on the counter has a few items left in it. One of them is a rainbow ribbon. I hadn’t thought about collecting before Laura. If I had, Adelynn would have made the list. In a way, she still will.
I wrap the ribbon around my right hand. My breathing calms. Just in case, I grab the wine bottle I incapacitated her with. To what extent the ribbon’s strength goes, I don’t know.
A click to my left is a wave crashing into me. Suddenly, I’m swept into the undertow as Ada runs out the back door, and it’s Heather Carter all over again. Seems I can’t gauge my strength. Heather’s head had caved in like a chocolate bunny giving way under excitable teeth. If only that was the problem I was having now. But no. This is all my fault, of course. I didn’t think to tie her up. It’s not as if I carry rope around with me everywhere.
Stuffing Ada’s ribbon in my pocket, I give chase. She’s only got a few seconds on me, and I know these woods. Taylor may have chosen the cabin, but I’m the one who spent hours outside learning the landscape. I was planning for the day I’d have to escape and run from the townsfolk like Frankenstein’s monster or from a small-town police force that had finally caught up.
Yards into the trees, I stand still and listen. The scurry of a small animal is to my left, a larger mammal straight ahead. Boots crunching days-old snow under the fluff from this morning are up ahead to the right. I move with a purpose, trying to find boot prints I can hide in.
I hear a hiss of pain. With any luck, she’s twisted an ankle. My hat’s doing little to keep snow from my eyes; I can still see the indentation she’s left. At least one thing’s going right today. Inwardly, I hunch down and pull out a rifle. Following the gouges Ada’s leaving in her wake brings back memories of my father’s wide eyes and his hand reaching out. “We don’t kill young things.”
The rush I only get from sweethearts pounds in me. Ada’s no sweetheart, though. She’s not young or innocent; she’s something new.
I wonder if she remembers me yet.