Page 52 of Someone Knows

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to look nice for you.”

The admission sat between them, crackling with tension.

Eventually, he sighed. “Go hide that bicycle in the woods at the back of the parking lot. Stay there for a while. Come back in half an hour, after it gets dark. We can’t be seen going in together. Room 212. I’ll leave the door open.”

Jocelyn stared at him, slack-jawed. Hide in the woods? Surely he was joking. But the way his eyes narrowed, he was serious as could be. She pressed her lips together, nodded, and started the long walk across the cracked pavement. The brush at the edge of the woods was damp, and within minutes, her shoes were soaked through. It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered nonetheless, finding a stump to sit on as the world grew dark around her.

Jocelyn didn’t like the dark. Bad things could happen to you in the dark, especially out here. A twig snapped somewhere beyond her, and she turned quickly, staring out into the darkness.

It must nearly be time. Stupidly, she’d forgotten to check her watch when the sun went down—not that she could see it now, anyway. She waited another five, ten minutes, then got to her feet and hurriedback toward the motel. Hopefully, it wasn’t too soon. She didn’t want to give him yet another reason to be angry.

But when she cracked open the door to 212 and stepped in, he didn’t tell her to leave. No, he sat at the desk against the wall in the corner of the room. She shut the door behind her quietly and took a few steps in, but froze when she saw what he was wearing.

His underwear. White boxer briefs. Heat crept up her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but stare. The underwear left little to the imagination. And he was fit. A man, definitely not a boy.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she took in the room—dimly lit, a bed, Mr. Sawyer nearly naked. She was nervous, but she wasn’tscaredexactly, more anxious and maybe excited. She licked her lips, curious to see what came next.

“Remove your clothing. Everything but your bra and panties. Then kneel here.” He pointed to a spot near his feet.

She hesitated only a moment, then hastily peeled off the blouse, shimmied out of the skirt, pulled down the tights. The cheap motel carpet felt rough beneath her knees, but she knelt, breathless, awaiting his next command.

“Put your hands together like you’re saying your prayers. Bow your head.”

Trembling now, she did as she was told. Her skin tingled with anticipation. Was he going to touch her? Kiss her? Mr. Sawyer shifted in his chair, and she couldn’t help it—she snuck a peek up. A bulge appeared beneath his boxer briefs.A big bulge, she thought, taking a shaky breath. It fascinated her, maybe frightened her some, too.

She huddled there, hot despite the fact that the room was cold and she had no clothes on. She shivered with eagerness as she waited. What would come next? Would he want to have sex? She was a virgin, but most of the girls her age weren’t anymore. Ivy had alreadyhad sex withtwodifferent boys. Whatever Mr. Sawyer wanted to do, she would do it. Jocelyn wanted to make him happy, after all. Because she liked him, thought he was handsome and fascinating, but also because he could change things for her—make her life better, take her away from this shitty town.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, he moved. He stood and strode out of her line of vision. This was it. Something was going to happen now. She quaked internally, waiting for his touch, his fingers on her back, her shoulder, anywhere—but it didn’t come. Instead, she heard noises behind her—clothes shifting. Perhaps he was preparing the bed? But a moment later, he was back. Crouching in front of her. Fully dressed.

What had she done wrong? Tears sprang to her eyes. If he was dressed, that meant . . . that meant he didn’t want her. He’d sat there, judging her nearly naked, and his response was toget dressed. She wasn’t attractive enough, of course.

He reached toward her, cupped her cheek. His warm, big hand on her skin felt like a relief, and she leaned into him.

“You’re a good girl.” He moved closer, pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he pulled away and tossed her clothes at her. “Get dressed.”

She hurried to do so, swiping angrily at the stray tears descending her cheeks. She wanted to turn, to ask what she’d done wrong, but she was also afraid to.

“Jocelyn?”

“Yes?” she squeaked. She stood hunched, looking down at the ground, her clothes on but askew.

“Look at me.”

She raised her gaze just in time to see the back of his hand come up and slap across her face. Her head turned from the force of it. “Don’t dress like a whore next time,” he bit out. “Same time next week. Wait in the woods.”

CHAPTER

25

Ibarely make it to the bathroom before my dinner is coming up.

Slumped over the porcelain toilet, knees pressed to the cold tile, I’m heaving. I reach for toilet paper to wipe my face, but more races up my throat. I’ve never been so violently ill before. It came on with no warning, no queasy belly or overwhelming nausea.

I remember that hotel room Hannah described. Insipid beige walls, heavy, moss-colored curtains that hide what goes on inside, the musty odor from years of neglect. The way the dim lighting couldn’t seem to catch on anything to reflect, and the worn, cheap carpet that was damp from more than just blood.

I’d only been inside that room once.That night.The night Jocelyn called crying and told me she needed help. Yet the images in my head are so vivid from the descriptions in the chapter I just read, and the picture Jocelyn had painted in my mind when she’d finally come clean and told me what had been going on for months.

I flush the toilet, drag my body up to the sink, splash some cool water on my face, and rinse my mouth. A face I barely recognize reflects back at me from the mirror. I look terrible, gaunt, with hollowed cheeks, dark circles ringingmy glassy eyes.

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