Page 48 of Snowman

"Need?" I shouted, my voice trembling. "Is that what you think happened?"

Mel hesitated, her brows furrowing. "Well... yeah. You slept with them, didn't you?" Her voice wavered, as though unsure of her own words.

"No, Mel," I said, my voice cracking. "I didn't."

"It's okay," she started, but I cut her off.

"No," I said, standing abruptly. My movements sent the tea shaking, and I placed it on the small table by the bed, turning to face her. My breath quickened as anger bubbled to the surface.

"It's not okay," I said, my voice rising. "They followed me." I closed my eyes, the images flashing behind my lids—muddyred water, hands around my neck. "They almost drowned me," I said, my voice breaking. I clutched my throat, mimicking the grip they had on me. "They choked me," I cried, "and then they threw me on the ground like I was nothing."

My breaths came in short, sharp gasps now. I could feel the heat of anger and shame rise in my chest, burning like fire.

"Do you think that's okay?" I shouted, my voice shaking.

Mel shook her head, tears streaming freely down her face.

"They forced themselves on me," I said, each word sharp and raw. "They took the only thing that was truly mine. Then they left me there to die." My voice cracked under the words. "Do you think that's okay?"

Mel shook her head again, harder this time. Her trembling hand rose to wipe at her tears. She tried to speak, but no words came.

I sank back onto the bed, my body trembling. Mel sat beside me, her hand hovering near mine as though she wanted to comfort me but didn't know how. I stared at the notebook, the words"Mood: Fine"still visible beneath the scratches.

"I'm not fine," I whispered, more to myself than to her. And for the first time, I allowed the words to sit with me, to bereal.

"And no one believed me," I cried, my voice cracking under my tears. "Because they think it's okay." The tears came harder now, streaming down my cheeks.

"I believe you," Mel said, her voice trembling, her body almost shaking. "But... sometimes it's easier to cover it up, to wrap it up. It hurts less that way."

"No, it doesn't!" I shot back, my fingers clawing at my skin, as though I could scrape away the memories etched into it. "No matter how many times I've rubbed my skin with soap, their touch doesn't wash away. Itneverwashesaway."

"I know," Mel broke down, her sobs spilling out in waves. "It's easier to tell myselfhelovesme.If I let him do what he wants, I'm safer. It's safer if I don't fight back."

Her head fell onto my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt. She was breaking in my arms, breaking apart in a way that uncovered the truth we both had buried for too long.

"It was so much easier," she choked out, "when I couldn't speak. When I couldn't move. It was easier when I was numb."

"Oh, Mel," I whispered, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her as tightly as they could. "There's still hope. Maybe—"

"No," she cut me off, her voice shaking. "That night, when I saw you laying in blood... I died, Bree. I died with you."

Her hand found my cheek, her palm warm, trembling. "You'll go out there," she said, her voice quieter now, but firm. "You'll tell them our story. And you'll save us both."

Her words were a dagger in my chest. "No," I said. "You deserve to go with me."

"You have to go to the police station," she whispered, leaning closer. "Tell them everything. Tell them how we were both held here against our will."

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard, my voice faltering. "They won't believe me, Mel. They didn't when..." I trailed off, my eyes shutting tight. The memories clawed at me—the pulsating sound of their laughter, their breath against my skin. It was all still there, haunting me.

My hand instinctively went to my hair, pulling out the rubber band. The phone hidden within fell into my palm, its weight suddenly feeling like the heaviest thing I'd ever held.

"I can call a friend," I whispered, clutching the phone tightly. "He can help."

My finger hovered over the number one. Pressing it felt like jumping off a cliff, but I held it down until the line rang.

After three beeps, he answered. "Bree?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I have to tell you something." My throat tightened, and I paused, hearing only silence on the other end. "Joe," I said finally. "My dad... he took Mel and me when we were kids. I think he's planning something."

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