Page 51 of Into Ruin

“Don’t lose it on me. We’ll get it off.”

He steps closer, avoiding the stream of water, and plucks the soap from my hands. He lathers it in his hands and scrubs at mine, dunking them under the water until I can see my pale skin again.

“You’ve got it from here.” He clears his throat and steps back. “Scrub everything. I’ll be back.”

It’s all I can do to follow instructions. I face the water again, rinsing my face. Cleaning the blood from my neck, my chest. When I finally feel like I’m clean enough, and the water swirling around my feet is no longer tinted pink, I shut off the tap and step out.

There’s a towel waiting for me, along with familiar clothes.

Myclothes.

Myhairbrush and deodorant.

What the fuck?

It dawns on me that it all came from the bag Max brought in.

He really was planning on whisking me away.

I never would’ve returned to Framingham.

The thought makes me cold inside. I hurry to dry and dress, combing out my hair in hurried strokes.

When I exit back into the main locker room, Max is covered in a tarp and Camden sits in front of his cubby, his skate in his hand. There’s blood on the blade.

This time, licking my lips doesn’t give me the taste of blood. His expression is blank. Careful. He seems to be considering something, and that consideration doesn’t involve looking at me.

“You’ve always been a liability,” he eventually says. “To me. To my career. To your brother.”

I freeze. “W-what?”

“When did you know he was in Framingham, Harper?”

My mouth dries, and I shake my head. I don’t have an answer, and it’s then I notice he has the rose in his other hand. He sets down the skate, ignoring the blood, and runs the tip of his index finger along the edge of one of the petals.

“You saw him at a game, and it was then you mentioned the pink flowers he used to leave. I had forgotten that detail.” He scoffs. “I was confused why there were over a dozen roses in the bin. Confused by your non-reaction to it. But now, I think I understand.”

He sets it aside and focuses on me.

“Did you think it was me?”

Guilt heats my cheeks, and I nod. I can’t deny it. I didn’t know who to suspect—him or Max. But it remains true that I couldn’t tell Royal.

“I’m going to handle this for you.” He points to the tarp. To thebodyunder it. “I’ll make it go away. If I don’t, you’re either going to drag all of us through a trial where they smearyouto bits trying to make Max Keegan look innocent, or you’re just going to plead out and go straight to fucking jail.”

“It’s self-defense,” I whisper.

“They won’t care. That’s the way this world works, Harper. No one wants to see a woman protect herself. You’d be punished for it.”

My eyes burn, and my vision blurs. He’s right about that much. How many rapists get probation, or nothing at all? How many victims are retraumatized on the stand while trying to get justice?

Too many.

And what kind of questions would they ask about Max’s death?

Did you report his stalking to the authorities?Yes… in high school.

But not recently?No, I kept that a secret.

---