Page 48 of Creeping Lily
Michael Skemp, son of Senator Michael Skemp Sr., has died following a horrific car accident. The twenty-six-year-old sustained fatal injuries and was pronounced dead at the scene after veering off the freeway and into a ravine. He is survived by his father, the Senator, his mother Judge Susan Lawson, and twin sisters, Aria and Adelaide.
The picture is small, blurred with age. But I know that uniform. I know the school. Bentley and Lincoln went there, too.
It has to be him. Why else would she think I’d be interested in such a random article?
A slow, cold tide rises inside me. My throat tightens, and the room feels smaller.
I thought I’d buried my past in a locked box, far enough away that it couldn’t touch me. I told myself I’d risen above it. Moved on.
But Michael Skemp? He’s out of time. No redemption arc. No apologies. No making it right.
And somehow… I’ve already forgiven him. I made my peace.
But peace is useless to the dead.
I driftthrough my days like I’m stuck inside someone else’s nightmare, half-awake but never fully conscious, every movement heavy and slow. The weight of unseen eyes follows me everywhere—down hallways, across crowded sidewalks, even in the privacy of my own room. It’s more than just a feeling now. It’s a presence. A pressure. A low, constant hum in my bones that saysyou are not alone.
It’s worse than before. Sharper. Like whatever is watching has moved in closer, close enough to breathe the same air.
My every step feels monitored, my pauses measured. I’ll catch myself halfway through reaching for my coffee and think,Someone just saw that.A laugh will die in my throat because I’m suddenly aware of how loud it is, how much attention it might draw. I’ve stopped looking people in the eye—not because I’m shy, but because I’m terrified I might accidentally meettheeyes. The ones I’ve been feeling for weeks.
Some mornings, I don’t get out of bed. I lie there, staring at the hairline cracks in my ceiling until they start to look like veins, pulsing with the same dread that’s in me. The sun creeps across the wall, changing the shadows, but not enough to make me move. My body feels like it’s made of lead, but my brain… my brain doesn’t stop.
It replays moments in a constant, dizzying loop—the flicker of movement in the corner of my vision on the way to class, the echo of footsteps that matched mine just a beat too long, the way the alley behind the club swallowed a shape I couldn’t quite see. I try to find connections, patterns, anything to make it make sense, but every thread slips through my fingers. The harder I think, the more it unravels, leaving me with nothing but a tighter knot in my chest.
If I’d stayed in Quarter, this never would have happened. The thought is poison, but it keeps dripping into my mind.
Quarter was quiet. Predictable. The kind of quiet that was so deep you could hear your own heartbeat in it. Nothing ever happened there—and I liked it that way.
Here, the city is loud even when it’s silent. It has a pulse, a fever that seeps into your blood if you stay too long. It winds itself around you, slips under your skin, digs its claws in until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.
And maybe that’s what scares me most—the possibility that the city isn’t just making me paranoid. It’s changing me.
25
JUSTIN
The bonfire spits and snarls, each crackle tearing through the dark like a warning. Sparks flare up and vanish into the night, swallowed by the black stretch of sky. The beach is empty except for us—a tight ring of college friends hunched around the metal barrel, our faces flickering in the firelight. Waves drag themselves lazily onto the shore, their rhythm almost calming… almost.
I talked Lily into coming tonight.
Now I’m regretting it.
Across the circle, Trick is a shadow apart from the rest, parked on the edge like a storm cloud no one wants to stand under. His eyes are locked on Lily, unblinking, and there’s something in the way he watches her that makes my skin crawl. He’s been nursing this thing for her so long it’s curdled into something sour.
She’s laughing at something I just said, hair catching the light like copper wire, and it hits me hard enough to stall my breath. She’s not laughing for him. She’s never laughed for him. And yet, Trick just sits there, soaking in her like he has the right.
I’ve stopped worrying about his feelings. If he wants todrown himself in his own obsession, fine—but I’m not tying the anchor around my neck with him.
There are girls here—dozens—gorgeous, half-drunk, hanging on every word he could say if he bothered. But no, he’s glued to Lily Snow. The one girl who’s made it clear she’s not interested. The one girl he refuses to hear a “no” from.
Lily doesn’t even glance at him. She’s leaning into Amara and Bethany, laughing at some joke I missed, and for a moment, it’s almost normal. Almost.
But I catch the way Trick’s fists tighten, his knuckles whitening like he’s holding himself together by the skin of his teeth.
I’ve had enough.
The sand hisses under my shoes as I cross the short distance between us. Things between us haven’t been right since the club incident, but some lines don’t get ignored. I lean down, my voice low enough for him alone.
