Page 72 of Girl Violence

Even though she wanted this, it hurts her so deeply, she’s not sure she will ever be right again.

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The dayof the funeral arrives, and her dad leaves dressed in a black suit. Josette watches out of the window as he drives away to the church for the service.

After showering, Josette groans at the painful task of attempting to run a brush through the bird’s nest on top of her head. It takes her half an hour to get all the knots out, and just as she’s about to blow-dry it, her new phone that her dad picked up for her after admitting the last one was stolen vibrates against the table.

She looks down, freezing when she sees several notifications appear on the screen. She only just connected it to Instagram before she went to shower and hasn’t checked it since. She stares at it. Seconds turn to minutes, and she still hasn’t picked it up.

Dread blooms in the pit of her stomach, and she knows, even before swiping her thumb across the screen, that it’s going to be terrible. Funny how the reality of something can be so much worse.

A picture was posted to her profile half an hour ago, meaning the person who has her old phone has access to her Instagram account.

It’s a picture of her pushed up against the wall with Ian kissing her in the background. Tyler taking a selfie with that horrible grin on his face. The caption,party time.

But it’s the person that’s tagged that makes Josette’s stomach turn with sickness. That makes ice fill every vein inside her body. Out of everyone on her profile they could have labelled, it was Vince they decided to choose.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

Out of all the days for the weather to be miserable, the day Josette decides to crash a funeral, a storm is coming. Either that or the devil is trying to tell her she’s going straight to hell. After all, it’s not as if she’s here to pay any respects to the dead.

The wind that has only picked up in the last hour tugs at her black dress and rain jacket. Spits of rain tap behind her hood and dot the pavement she’s currently standing on. As still as the statue of Mary towering before her, her stony eyes giving Josette the most considerable death glare ever.

It could all be in her head, but the impending storm, the creepy, haunted-looking church, and Mary’s judgmental haze seem like all bad omens.

She’s not here to pray, though maybe she should. Who knows what’s going to happen today. And to think all of it could have been avoided if she had done more security on her phone when prompted. Touch ID, face recognition, changing her fucking passwords.

She made it too easy to be messed with. She didn’t know what to do other than delete the post. It’s gone—which means it didn’t happen. She can forget, right?

She won’t forget. The picture may be gone from social media but what Ian did is still in her head. And now she’s worried about Vince. That this was aimed at him. She’s here for him, even though she wishes it wasn’t his father’s funeral she had to sneak into for a chance to talk to him. To tell him that it wasn’t her who posted the picture. That it wasn’t on purpose to hurt him.

She knows she was invited, and her dad is in the church, but it’s still awful timing. Especially knowing what Josette last said to Vince about them being done.

When will she learn that it will never be done? There’s always going to be something pulling her back. He might not talk to her, and that’s okay. But if he lets her, she can at least explain. Even if it means telling him the real version of what happened the night of the party. Why there’s a picture of Ian kissing her, and why he’s tagged in it.

Which brings her back to square one. What will he do when he knows the truth?

Lifting her phone, Josette glances at the image again, searching for that semblance of fear she had the night Ian tried to force himself on her. But she’s searching for a miracle, and the same disappointment she had when she first saw it chills her.

With how her head is angled in the picture, you can’t see that she was scared. That she didn’t want it to happen. In fact, it looks like she wanted it. Everyone in the comments thought so.

Her stomach churns. The comments she can take—they’re only keyboard warriors. All bark with no bite. What she’s most scared about is Vince believing the lie the picture paints. What if he thinks shewantedto kiss Ian?

Maybe she’s fucked this up so badly that he won’t even care.

Running her other hand through her hair beneath her hood in frustration, she should be here to support him after his dad’s death instead of being here because she doesn’t want him to think badly of her. Most of all, she doesn’t want him to think she would do that to him.

“Stop judging me, Mary. I know I’m a self-absorbed, terrible person!” Josette snaps at the statue and makes her way indoors, knowing she’s delaying going in on purpose.

Thankfully, she doesn’t burst into flames when she steps across the foyer of the church, but she does shiver from the coldness. Her teeth chatter as she glances at the sign covered with white roses—David O’Neil printed on it in fancy writing.

Pushing down her hood, Josette pulls open the adjoining door and peeks around. The owners of this church might not believe in central heating, but she’s relieved they don’t have creaky doors. She can’t imagine anything worse than having hundreds of heads inside turn her way.

All the pews are full of people dressed in black, aside from the few stragglers who rebelled by wearing colour. It’s quiet, aside from the priest talking in the front and the occasional sniffle. Josette steps inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind her. She spots her dad sitting on the second to last pew next to strangers.

Josette tries her hardest not to let her heels click on the marble floor by walking on her tippy toes. Once she’s near enough, she nudges his shoulder. When he looks up, his eyebrows rise when he sees her.

She mouths for him to move over when she senses a few people looking. Thankfully, he quickly shuffles over to make room for her.

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