Page 31 of Beautiful Revenge

“I had my noise cancelling ear buds in to block out any sound.” She takes a deep breath, bringing her hand to her head. “I couldn’t stand even the sound of the guys’ breathing near me yesterday, so I took the pill and then shut myself in the room with the noise blockers. I hid under a blanket and fell asleep.”

She’s not wrong. We’ve seen her coming down from those pills before, and she’s dead to the world. It’s a miracle she even gets here through the drugged state most days. Her bastard of a father had gotten them prescribed to her a few years ago when she started fighting against them too much.

The first time she had shown up after being drugged, she couldn’t speak, barely able to keep her eyes open, and we completely freaked out. Mom called a friend of hers that was a nurse, asking what we should do, and after answering a lot of questions, we were told to let her rest.

We monitored her all fucking night in fear that we’d lose her, but we didn’t. When she woke up, she explained how they’d drugged her. Not enough to knock her completely out because they wanted her responsive, but enough that it fucked her up. And it continued to happen.

“And you two?” the guy asks, and I share a look with Dylan.

“We heard some things over the movie, but honestly? Our parents are on vacation, and our only concern was for Briar. We looked out the window and saw the flashing lights, but we didn’t bother to go outside.” I shrug, and Dylan speaks up.

“We’re of the mind that, if it isn’t our house, it isn’t our business. Other than our parents, Briar is the only thing we give a shit about, and she was right here. We knew she was safe.”

The older man nods, taking in our information before he focuses on Briar. “Miss Whitmore, your house burned down last night,” he explains gently, and she blinks at him.

“What? How?”

“We aren’t certain right now, but our guess is an electrical failure.” He and the female officer watch her, waiting for her to break.

“Dad?” her voice breaks, asking about the sick bastard.

This will be the hardest part for her to fake, knowing we’re behind his death.

“I’m sorry, Miss Whitmore, but can you tell us how many friends your father had over yesterday?” he asks her, and she squeaks, moving to curl her face into Dylan’s neck.

“Three,” she whispers, her body shaking as she responds.

To anyone who doesn’t know her, they’d believe she’s silently crying. But Dyl and me? We know she’s vibrating with happiness and had to turn away to hide it.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss Whitmore. There were four bodies discovered in your home this morning when we were allowed to enter the premises.” He swallows, going a little pale. “There seems to have been some foul play with one of the bodies.” He clears his throat, and Briar lets out a wail that takes us all by surprise.

“He’s gone?” she cries, her body shaking. “He’s really gone?” she cries again, squeezing Dylan tight.

“I am so sorry, Miss Whitmore, but I need to ask you one more question,” the woman says, and I want to punch the bitch.

“Wh—what?” Briar’s voice breaks through her sobs, and the woman looks unfazed.

The guy clears his throat, giving a nasty look to the female. “Did your father have anyone in his life that would wish him harm?”

“I—no, I d—don’t think so,” she whispers, still crying.

She’s acting this out a lot better than I thought she would, but Dylan doesn’t look truly worried about her, so I assume she’s whispered something into his ear to keep him calm while the rest of us witness this.

“Thank you.” The man stands, directing the female officer to stand and move toward the door. “We may have some more questions for you once we know more about what happened.” He looks at Dylan and then me. “You need to call your parents home. She’s going to need an adult to claim her, and from what I gather, she has no other family. We’ll be in touch.”

With that, they leave the house, and we sit in silence for a while, taking in everything before the house phone rings. Knowing our parents are the only ones who would be calling this time of day, I answer, putting the phone on speaker.

“Mom?”

“We’re coming home. Keep Briar safe until we get there,” she says, and I blink, sharing a look of fear with Dylan and Briar.

“What?” I ask, nervous.

“The police just called your father’s cell and explained everything. Don’t worry. Briar is safe with us. Just keep her safe,” Mom says, her voice shaking.

“Yeah, Mom, of course,” Dylan promises.

“See you all tomorrow. And Briar?”

“Yes?” she whispers, shaking in real fear this time from thinking we were busted.

“We love you, honey. You’re finally safe. Just breathe.”

They hang up the phone, and Briar starts to cry, smiling from ear to ear. “Safe. I’m safe, and home.”

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