Jesse is all I can think about. I was more or less holding it together right up until Amber revealed he was Erin’s boyfriend. And now he’s dead. Because I killed him. Poor, poor Erin.
In the dark, the memory is all there is. My foot kicking out. Water filling his lungs, no strength to struggle. Limp fingers, white skin.
Just like Rose.
My mind fills in the blanks. The lives not lived and the years stolen away. It’s what I do—make up stories. Both Rose and Jesse are nothing but stories that will never happen. Wedding parties, gray hairs, big family Christmases like I’ve always dreamed of.
In the dark, I’m surrounded by their untold stories, and I can barely stand.
“Where are the lights?” Emma says.
I try to move toward her voice, but I bump into something. A cold dead hand strokes my cheek, and I scream. I can’t see her, but I know it’s Rose. Her fingers are so stiff; there’s nothing but bones left after a year in the ground.
I try to fight her off, but she tangles her arms around me, tugging at my hair, pressing her fleshless skull against my face. I struggle and scream and kick.
“Charlotte, stop,” Matthew says. “Calm down.”
A warm hand feels my face, then finds my hand. He pulls me free. Plastic clatters to the ground. The mannequins; it was just a mannequin.
Flashes of light from someone’s phone flashlight are blindingly bright. They sweep past me, but I can’t make out my surroundings.
“There’s no handle on the front door,” Grayson says.
“The windows are boarded up,” Beatrix says. “This is a fricking nightmare.”
“We’ll have to go back upstairs.” Matthew releases me. “Climb out via the scaffolding.”
The bobbing flashlight beams move away from me, and I hear footsteps on the stairs.
“Wait, can’t you kick the door down?” Beatrix says. “You spend most of your life in the gym, Matthew.”
“And you watch nothing but baking shows and can’t cook for shit,” he mutters.
Someone laughs. Erin, I think. She has a cruel, sharp laugh, like Rose’s was. In my head, I’m back at that party, and Rose is calling me a pathetic fan. “You will never, ever get to be with him,” she taunts. “He wouldn’t look twice at you.”
Suddenly, I’m surrounded by people laughing at me. Matthew, Beatrix, Erin, Grayson, Emma. Even Anton.
“You really are pathetic,” Anton says. “As if I’d want you.”
I try to breathe, but my lungs won’t work. I can’t get any air. My chest is so tight that I think I’m turning to plastic. I’m becoming one of the mannequins, with their smooth, lifeless skin and staring eyes.
“Join us,” Rose whispers in my ear. “You’ll never be alone again.”
She sweeps something across my collarbone. It’s cold against my skin, and it jangles slightly. I think it’s one of the gaudy necklaces from the mannequins. I reach up to touch the dangling jewels, only it tightens around my neck. Tighter and tighter, like she’s twisting it. The metal settings cut into my skin. I really can’t breathe.
I hear the others traipsing up the stairs, their voices growing fainter. I want to call out to them, but I can’t make a sound. I claw at my neck and try to get my fingers under the necklace, but it’s too tight. My chest burns; my brain conjures sparks that fly across my vision. My legs sag beneath me.
There are hurried footsteps, then a bright flash of light. The necklace is suddenly gone as if it were never there. I suck in a desperate gasp of air as I drop to the ground.
Another flash, farther away this time. I crawl toward it. The light came from the lounge, where the fire burns low. There’s a person kneeling in front of the grate, scraping at the embers with a poker.
“What are you doing?” I rasp, finding that my voice is small and painful.
Emma gasps and spins around, taking my photo as she does. “Charlotte? I thought everyone was upstairs. I was…um…that envelope.”
“It burned,” I say. “I made sure.”
“Damn it,” she grumbles. “Since when do you care about Erin Love?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I say. Truth is, I don’t give a damn about Erin Love. But looking at those photos would have been wrong, and for all my faults, I’m not that much of a bitch.
Breathing is getting easier. I stand up and find that my legs are shaky but strong. My neck stings where I clawed at it, but my head is clear. The ghosts are gone.
And I have to do the right thing by Jesse.
Now that I’ve calmed down, I manage to find my own phone flashlight. It guides me to the top of the stairs before the battery goes, but I can hear the others. In one of the bedrooms, moonlight streams in through an open window. There are people on the scaffolding, climbing down to the street.
Erin sticks her head inside. “There you are,” she says, offering me her arm. She’s gray-faced and looks exhausted.
By the time we’ve made it down to the street, only Grayson is waiting for us. He gives me a weird look and opens his mouth to speak. But then we’re interrupted by Emma clattering her way down the ladder with her camera bobbing around her neck. I feel my own neck. It really hurts.
“Where are Matthew and Beatrix?” she asks.
“They went to find the rest of the crew,” Erin says, her tone clipped and cold. “They think Jesse was involved in setting this up. I’ve tried to call him, but the bastard’s not answering.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Grayson says gently. “Any of it?”
“No,” Erin replies quickly. “I want to find whoever it is behind all this and kill them.”
Emma raises both eyebrows. “Literally?”
“Shut up, Emma,” Erin snarls; then she sags a little and sighs. “I’ll try Jesse’s phone again.”
“Do I know Jesse?” Emma says.
Erin scrolls through her phone and shows Emma a picture of them together. Erin’s smile on the screen claws at my heart. I have to tell her. I can’t tell her.
“This is Jesse?” Emma says, taking the phone. “I’ve seen him before.”
“He was at the museum,” Erin says.
Emma shakes her head. “Before tonight. Before Rose.” She frowns and hands the phone to Erin. “I’ll have to look at my old photos and see if anything jogs my memory.”
“Why does it matter?” Grayson says, scratching his head. His hair is stiff with dry mud. “Am I missing something?”
“He knows what’s up with this ghost thing, right? But no one’s asking why he’s involved,” Emma explains.
“Money,” Grayson says. “Probably. Isn’t it always money?”
Erin nods tightly. “With Jesse, yes.”
Emma claps once. “So we find him and we find Rose’s supposed ghost too,” she says. “And we find out why we’ve been dragged into this mess.”
I take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something,” I say.
They all turn to me, faces shocked like they’d forgotten I was here.
“Jesse is—”
“What’s with your neck?” Emma interrupts. “Did you scratch yourself?”
My neck is seriously sore, actually. I tentatively touch it again. “I think I had a panic attack and tried to strangle myself,” I mutter.
Erin pulls at my hoodie. Her expression starts off impatient, then turns to concern. “You’re all cut up and bruised. You did this to yourself?”
“Maybe?” I say, wincing. “I don’t really remember. Everything’s kind of hazy. I mean, I thought it was Rose at the time, so…”
“Rose?” Grayson says. “Why would Rose want to strangle you?”
“You’ll all want to strangle me in a minute,” I say, sitting on the sidewalk. Everyone stares at me in silence, waiting. I take a deep breath and wipe the tears from my eyes before they can fall. “Jesse’s dead. I think I killed him.”