Page 160 of Deviant

Never.

Not in hate and certainly not in love.

But I’ll mourn the loss either way.

Just as I’ll mourn Nora for the rest of my life.

I wake up the next morning in Lucy’s room, when Harper knocks on the door. But as I open the door for her, I realize that Lucy isn’t in her bed.

“She’s gone,” I say, panicking as I let Harper inside.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Harper says, scouring the room and finding the same empty bed that I did.

“I don’t know. I must have fallen asleep, and she snuck out on me.”

“This is not good. This is so not good,” Harper joins me in my panic.

“I’m right here,” Lucy says, coming out of the bathroom, looking like she just took a shower.

“Oh, hey,” Harper coos. “You’re up. That’s good. Isn’t that good, Rowen?”

I nod, my gaze never wavering from Lucy as she opens the closet and picks out some clothes for her to wear.

“Are you going somewhere, hun?” Harper asks, keeping that sweet tempo of hers while throwing weird glances my way.

“I thought I’d come with you downstairs and have breakfast with everyone.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” I ask skeptically.

She nods before dropping her chosen attire on the bed.

“You don’t have to babysit me anymore. I can make my way downstairs on my own.”

“Not fucking happening,” Harper mouths to me, while I nod in agreement.

“It’s no trouble. How about we wait for you outside and give you some privacy to change?” I suggest, keeping my tempo just as upbeat and friendly as Harper’s.

“Okay,” she concedes, never once looking us in the eye.

We leave the room, Harper grabbing me by the arm so we’re far enough that Lucy can’t overhear but not too far that she can give us the slip again.

“I saw a horror movie like this once. She’s acting like some pod person. Did you see her eyes? Nothing there. Nothing!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” I urge, throwing glimpses at Lucy’s bedroom door. “But I agree with you. She is acting strange.”

“Strange doesn’t even cover it. Whatever that is… it’s not Lucy.”

“Give her a break. Her boyfriend just died.”

“Yeah, and she was the one who killed him,” Harper reminds me.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“What part of her screaming that she killed Lucas yesterday confuses you?”

“Fair point.” I scrunch up my nose. “Still, did you see the rope marks around her neck?”

“I did.” Harper cringes, running her fingers up and down her throat as if she can physically feel the rope around it.

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