Page 59 of Wicked Nasty

He nods understandingly. "I know, sweetheart."

Delilah suddenly pulls out her phone and starts typing furiously. "She just posted on GlossX!"

I rush over to see what she's talking about and see a photo of Becca standing in front of a vending machine at a nearby truck stop. I curse under my breath and immediately stand up.

"I know where she is. I'll be back."

Without wasting another second, I rush out to my car and drive down there. But as I pull into the truck stop, I don't see her car anywhere.

Strange… Did I miss her?

I park and head inside, hoping and praying that somebody can give me answers.

Sitting at a lone table is the same truck driver who threatened me. Sucking it up, I walk over with my head held high.

“Hey! Where’s Becca?”

He looks up with tears in his eyes. “She uh, just left.”

“To where?!”

The cashier comes over and gently places her hand on my shoulder. “She left to find Katya. It’s what she needs.”

I slowly sink down into the booth, unsure of what to feel.

The truck driver glances over at me, his expression weighted with concern. "She needs to find her," he says in a low voice.

I nod, trying to mask the conflicting emotions churning inside of me.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes shifting between the road and my face. "Look... Liz and I have gotten to know Becca pretty well.”

"Great," I mumble sarcastically.

But deep down, I know it's not great. It's devastating. My mind races as I try to process the anger, fear, and hurt that are all fighting for dominance within me.

And then a realization hits me like a ton of bricks: despite everything, I care for Becca on some twisted level. Our sick, depraved minds understand each other in a way that no one else ever could. It makes no sense, but I can't deny it any longer.

Liz slowly lowers herself onto the chair, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Jim is right," she breathes. "It hurts to let her go, but Becca needs to do this journey on her own."

Frustrated, I slam my fist against the table. "Who said I wanted to go with her?" My voice echoes through the quiet room.

Liz stumbles over her words, trying to find a way to explain herself. "I... I just..."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I stand up from the table and pace back and forth. "You've got it all wrong," I say through gritted teeth.

Jim gives me a knowing smile, as if he understands something that I don't. "Sure it is," he says sarcastically. "You don't care about her, so that's why you're here looking for her."

My anger boils over. "I'm here looking for her, so my mom stops crying," I retort. "Becca didn't think of that, did she? She just up and left, leaving all of us... all of you behind. She's a selfish bitch." The bitterness in my voice is palpable as I struggle to hold back tears of frustration and hurt.

My phone vibrates, and I fumble to answer it while rushing out of the noisy truck stop.

My mom's voice floods my ears through the car's speakers.

“Have you found her?”

"She's gone. On a plane to Florida."

I can hear my mother choke back her cry. “Oh, sweetheart. Come on home.”

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