Page 153 of Hunting Pretty

The heat of his body was an implicit promise: give up and he would take my body to new levels of pleasure. He would spend the rest of his life chasing away the darkness, bathing me with pleasure and happiness instead.

I could feel his love; he was ready to take me anywhere I wanted. All I had to do was say the word.

If I left with him, I could be safe. Safe andloved. The thought swirled around my head, so sweet, so tempting.

I pictured us walking in the sunlight, hand in hand. Maybe on a quiet beach, just like he said.

We’d have our own little world, away from all of this. We’d make love in the sand, in the water, in our warm, safe bed, far from danger, far from the darkness that had been consuming me.

We’d have dogs, babies—so many babies. We could fill our lives and hearts with all the love we never got as kids.

I could almost feel it, that perfect, peaceful life, free from the weight of everything that haunted me.

But then…

But then I’d have to lie. Lie to the people who mattered most.

I’d have to carve out pieces of my soul shaped like Lisa and Ebony.

They’d be devastated, crushed by not knowing where I’d gone, by thinking I was lost. Missing. Or worse.

The thought of them searching for me, hurting over me, twisted my insides.

It would be torture for them.

And I’d have to live with it. Live with the guilt that I had abandoned them, left them with no explanation, no closure.

I’d have to live with the fact that Liath’s disappearance—her murder—would go unsolved. Her killer, her abuser, would go unpunished.

And more girls would suffer because I wasn’t brave enough to stay and fight.

But if I stayed… if I kept digging, I wouldn’t be safe.

He was still out there, still after me.

I’d lose him—Scáth. My shadow. My protector. I’d lose the one person who had stood by me, the only one who knew the truth, all of it. I’d lose the chance at love, at happiness.

And I’d face the very real danger of remembering every vile, dark thing that had ever been done to me.

If I stayed, I might be broken. Alone. I might even end up dead.

But if I left, I’d be torn apart from the inside, my happiness poisoned by guilt.

Stay or go.

How could I choose?

What would I choose?

AVA

In my bedroom, I sat on my bed, staring between my open backpack and a photo book.

The grandfather clock in the main foyer sounded out, the clanging echoing through the cavernous house.

Once again, I was the only one to hear it because Ebony was working late.

I glanced over at the clock on my dresser.

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