Page 89 of Thorns of Malice

I force myself to leave, and I pass several of the greenhouses my father managed, tearing up again. I don't go inside any of them. Part of me wants to, but I can't.

I get to the trail leading to the lake and head down it, remembering all the times Dax and I took this path. The first time he took me to the lake was magical, and the same nervous butterflies erupt that I felt back then.

Memories of nighttime swims, making out on the beach, and sailing on sunny days make me smile. I stop moving, close my eyes, and enjoy a minute of the sun on my face and the good memories.

"Homophobe! Homophobe! Homophobe!"Marcey's voice pops up in my mind.

I groan.

Why am I thinking about her?

"Or is she a prude and homophobic?"Marcey asks, not leaving my thoughts.

The same defensive twist in my chest occurs.

Dax's voice interjects,"Every man wants a slut, Ivy. They don't want a tease. They want a woman who knows she's a woman, not a prude. So you want to be my slut, right?"

I cringe, knowing those moments formed who I am today. They were the catalyst of manipulation, lies, and, ultimately, my addiction.

I shake my head, continuing through the woods, barely noticing anything, with a reel going through my mind of nightmares I've tried to forget but can't. I step out of the woods and freeze.

The docks have been pulled out. There are no signs of sailboats or other watercraft. The season's over, and everything's gone except for several bright-red buoys in the water, sand lining the edge of the grass, and the boathouse.

My stomach flips. I remember the night Dax and I spent in the boathouse. The footage leaked onto Professor Dyer's big screen, causing my life to fall apart. Yet I can't help myself. I go into the run-down building and turn on the light.

It's the same musty smell and wooden tongue-and-groove walls. The boats hang stacked just as perfectly as ever.

I step into the bedroom, sit on the bed, look around, then turn and stare at the corner of the ceiling.

The red light's on. I shake my head, wondering if I'm being recorded or not. A violent wave of anger slaps me. I rise and throw my hands in the air, yelling, "Are you watching me?"

Silence fills the air, and more rage hits me. I scream, "Are you recording me? Are you getting more footage for whatever sinister thing you have planned next to destroy me?"

I stare at it, as if there's going to somehow be a response, and then get pissed at myself. I shouldn't show these emotions to Dax or anyone else who could be watching.

I force myself to leave the boathouse and sit on the sandy shore with my knees pulled tight to my chest, hugging myself. The never-ending battle with too many emotions plagues me while the horror of my past torments me. It all mixes with the same lingering questions about how to beat these people once and for all.

One by one, images of my enemies pop up in my mind, along with one nagging question I can't answer:What part did Lilly play in all this?

Was she ever my friend, or was she in on their game too?

Dax and the others seemed shocked to see her last night. It sounded like she hadn't returned to Greenwich in a long time. But why?

It could be another trap.

They didn't know I was coming.

Professor Dyer could have called them and told them I was in town. He had over an hour.

Dax was surprised to see me. So were the others.

I stare at the glassy water for several more minutes and then take a deep breath. I reach for my phone, hoping she has the same number, and pull up my text messages.

Me: Can we meet up?

Lilly: I thought you'd never ask.

Me: When?

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