Page 51 of Psycho

I’d seen the note before, in passing, right after my parents got it back. They didn’t let me see it when it was still considered evidence, and by that time, my parents had already summarized it for me. I’d already made up my mind when it came to Declan’s guilt.

But, as I read the note for myself, with as clear of a mind as I could possibly have, I realized what I should’ve realized all along.

I was wrong.

I was so fucking wrong, it stung.

Nausea rose within me, and even though I hadn’t eaten anything today, I felt like throwing up. I quickly put the note back in the bag, zipped it up, and hurried away from the box, away from the attic. My mind spun, and my lungs felt heavy. Over and over I replayed the words in my head: I was wrong. How could I have been so wrong?

My legs took me to my bedroom, and I immediately closed the door, fighting to get my emotions under control. My breathing was wild, my mind racing. I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, calm down. Sure, the note could still blame Declan, but there was another possibility, a possibility no one had thought of.

And why would we? Why would my parents have suspected anyone other than Declan? Why would I? Sabrina and Declan were together, at least until a week before her death. They’d been dating on and off for years.

I sat on the side of my bed, my fingers curling in the fluffy comforter. Not even the familiarity of my bedroom could calm me down. My eyes glanced at the closed door before slowly moving to the mahogany nightstand standing beside my bed.

Fuck. I…I needed it. Just this once. Just to calm me down. Just to…stop me from going off the rails with what that note could mean.

I was on my knees in front of my nightstand the next moment, my hand squeezing beneath it. This wasn’t my house. When I lived here, I got creative. Travis thought he searched the room once we got here, but the fool should know that an addict always had backups, and backups for backups.

They were old, but they’d work. They’d do the job.

My fingers felt the small plastic baggie I’d taped to the bottom of the nightstand, hidden from everyone’s view. You had to really get in there to reach it, too. I pulled it out.

One. I should only take one.

No.

More.

I needed all of them. There were only three in there, after all. That wasn’t a huge dose for me. I’d taken more and been able to walk home before.

My willpower to keep myself in check was gone, vanished the moment I read the note. That fucking note…how the hell was I supposed to feel—normal and happy? How was I supposed to go on as if nothing was wrong when I knew Ash was in that house?

The note didn’t say Declan Briggs.

It said D. Briggs.

D. As in the Dean of Students at Hillcrest. As in Dean Briggs.

And so, even though I knew I shouldn’t, I did the only thing I could do: I took the pills.

Chapter Twenty-Four – Ash

Mom coming was a huge deal, apparently. Everyone had to wear their best—which included Will and Declan wearing nice button-up shirts that made their shoulders seem squarer, and Dean Briggs a sweater vest. Yes, a sweater vest. I would’ve laughed, but Mom would kill me. Mom herself showed up in nice pants and a blouse I knew she got from Goodwill. Still, she looked good. She even wore a bit of makeup. Helen Bonds was actually trying to impress. I didn’t know whether to be weirded out or proud of her.

She needn’t have impressed anyone though, because I was already in Hillcrest. No more ass-kissing necessary.

With the long dining table full of food that us five certainly wouldn’t be able to eat, we were having a nice enough Thanksgiving. It felt too lavish though, like, deep down, I felt like I didn’t belong here. Mom and I used to have TV dinners, the kind you threw in the microwave and all that, unless it was a holiday. The only time I got real cooked meals was when I went over Kelsey’s house, and even that was no comparison to this. Kelsey might’ve had two parents, but they were not that much better off than us.

They did live in a house, though. That was something.

Mom had hugged me the moment she saw me, pulling me close and whispering how much she missed me, how we didn’t talk as often as we should, blah, blah, blah. It was nice, great to see her, but a part of me hated that I felt like I was putting her in danger by being with her. With Ray…well, you never really knew with that one. Surely he was plotting.

Helen sat between me and the Dean, while Will and Declan sat across from me. I tried not to linger on their gazes too much, fearing my mom’s nosey glances would lead her to think that we were together. Even if we were, she didn’t need to know it.

“The food looks good,” Helen commented. “Smells even better. Who did all the cooking?” She sent a teasing smile to Will and Declan, but it was Dean Briggs who answered.

“I did. I like to cook, believe it or not,” he spoke with a smile, and I was struck by how good-looking of an older man he was. If that’s what I had to look forward to, assuming Will and Declan were still in my life, I’d be more than okay with it.

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