Page 64 of Deviant

The simpler one, hopefully.

All I have to do is drop the Rohypnol in her drink, and Nora will, in fact, sleep over my house just like she told everyone she would as her alibi.

Tomorrow morning when she wakes up and realizes she missed her chance to be selected for the Harvest Dozen, she’ll be pissed for sure.

She’ll probably accuse me of being a shitty friend.

She’ll shout and cry and say all sorts of mean things to hurt me.

She might even say that we’re no longer best friends and that she’ll never want to see me again.

But at least she’ll be alive.

The rest is just noise.

Chapter 12

Rowen

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” my boss, Rosie, says worriedly from the other end of the line. “But yes, don’t even think of coming to work today if you’re not up for it. We have things covered over here.”

“Thank you,” I manage to croak out.

“No problem at all. Would you like me to send someone to your house with some of my homemade chicken noodle soup? It’s known to work wonders for a stomach bug.”

I shake my head vigorously, even though she can’t see me.

The mere thought of anyone finding me in my current state sends my anxiety soaring to the roof.

“No, that’s okay, Rosie. Thank you for offering, but I can manage on my own,” I refuse politely as a cold sweat beads down my brow.

“Fair enough. Rest up and feel better soon,” she replies in a sympathetic tone.

I thank her once again for being so understanding, and after I’m done saying my farewells, I quickly hang up the phone, feeling like that one call has drained most of my energy.

Despite what I led Rosie to believe, my illness is more complicated than just a simple stomach bug. It cannot be cured with soup or anything I might have stored in my medicine cabinet.

My sickness is a matter of the soul—and how I lost mine the day I killed my best friend.

Sitting on the floor in the kitchen corner, I hug my legs and start rocking back and forth, staring at the spot where Nora took her last breath.

It wasn’t supposed to end that way.

She wasn’t supposed to die.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I recall that last night we had together. It started like any other, with her coming over to spend the night, but it ended in the most traumatic of ways.

“That was spectacular, Rowen!” my dad praises, rubbing his belly after eating his third slice of the meat-lovers lasagna I made.

“I’m glad you liked it.” I smile, grabbing his empty plate and putting it in the sink.

“I always like your cooking, you know that, Junebug,” he says affectionately. “But didn’t you threaten to cut me off from red meat and all the other things I enjoy before having a full check-up with Dr. Mitchell? Not that I’m complaining, but I could have sworn I tasted a bit of bacon in there.”

“I might have added that along with some chorizo and sausage, too.”

“You want to kill your old man?” He laughs.

“Of course not.” I giggle. “It’s just that my meat-lovers lasagna is Nora’s favorite too, and I wanted to do somethingspecial for her tonight.” I smile, turning to my best friend, who is wolfing down her meal.

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