Page 58 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
I stand there, unable to decide what to do. Hug her? Tell her everything will be okay? I can’t lie. I don’t want to do that. Hope is a powerful thing—that’s something my parents always told me. It can give a person life or destroy them.
“You can tell me,” I offer.
She nods once, wiping under her eye. “I admired Natalie. She and Whitney always made a point to come visit me during the summer. And I know it’s petty, but being around them made me feel good about myself. Like they were… deigning to hang out with me, I must be cool, right?”
“The coolest,” I murmur.
“I hate that I feel that way.” She kicks at the leaves. “I hate that I’m the one who rushed to Whitney’s side, and she didn’t once ask how I was handling everything.”
“She…” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. I’m not going to make excuses for how she’s been acting.”
“After she went at you for saying Nat was dead… I don’t blame you.” She sneaks a glance at me. “Why are you so sure she’s gone, anyway?”
I chew that over, then spit out what I’ve been worrying about for the past three days. “Isn’t it better than thinking she’s locked in some sadist’s basement?”
She rears back, blinking. “I… wouldn’t have thought of that.”
A normal person probably wouldn’t have. But then again, there’s been something bothering me about all of this. Everyone’s reactions—especially how easily it drew Liam out of the woodwork.
He was content to make my life miserable from afar… and now he’s up close and personal.
I touch my lips. The warning he graced me with before leaving me at the T stop this morning: Don’t do anything stupid.
A repetitive phrase, if not somewhat predictable.
And said with ill faith. It’s not like I set out to do stupid things.
“Should we go?” she asks, pointing to the trail. “This is the path to the water tower. There should be a treatment plant on the hill above it, too.”
“Right.”
I’m not sure what else we’re here to do except take photos we could’ve searched for on the internet, but it’s also nice to just get out for the day. It’s warm with the sunshine filtering through the trees.
“And what about you?” Taryn asks suddenly. “Did you see the press conference?”
“Which one?”
Natalie’s parents seemingly haven’t left the spotlight. We’ve heard pleas from them to return their baby girl, angry protesting that some monster has their child, the broken sobs from Natalie’s mother.
“Just her mom from this morning,” she says. “She cried through the whole thing.”
I wince. “I avoid them when I can.”
Which is next to impossible, since Whitney’s parents never turn off the damn television.
“They were talking about us going on. Like, to talk about how Natalie’s disappearance has affected stuff.”
“Stuff?” I cock my head.
“Classes, tests, our mental health.”
“She’s been missing a week,” I point out. “There’s no long-term side effect yet.”
“Yet.” She grimaces. “What if they never find her?”
I shiver. It’s possible that she could be gone forever. How many ways are there to dispose of a body?
A hundred? A thousand?