Faetality |✓|

Chapter Eighteen, Part Two - Step Into the Light

Ambrosia took care of the cuts on my fists and the bruises and swelling of my hands, but it did nothing to heal the damage that had permeated its way into my heart. I had come unraveled, snapping at the sight of the stolen keycard, and the ending result had been using a combination of my hands and the wind to utterly destroy Erica's apartment. I went home still picking glass from my hair and jacket. But by the time I made it through the door, I was calm and presentable enough to smile in Erica's face only because I derived immense pleasure from imagining the look of surprise on her face when she later returned to her broken little home.

Or what was left of it.

But Erica's true reaction I would have yet to decipher. Days passed after the discovery of her treachery, and Thanksgiving Break came and went. Margot now knew the news of our parent's divorce and our father's impending relationship with Erica. And though she was no longer angry with our father, she spiraled into a funk that was as deep as my own. We all spent less time together, consequently remaining holed up in our rooms and venturing out only for school or meals. It seemed as if the less we three spoke, the safer we all felt. Words tended to do so much damage these days that it was no wonder we had all become so afraid to use them.

To make matters worse, not two weeks had passed after our return from the break before Harbor Village High was once more rocked by tragedy. Three more students - two seniors and a junior (none of which I knew) - literally drank themselves to death at a party. No one thought to connect the deaths to forced suicide, but I did.

And so had The Society.

The most recent deaths had occurred all at once and with no full moon, causing us to speculate whether or not the killer had purposefully murdered all the previous victims in such a manner in order to throw us from the trail of their true intentions. Perhaps the murderer (in true serial killer style) was losing their motivation to take it slow and steady. It was as if suddenly they had grown restless, impatient.

And now, so had I.

* * *

One cold morning in very early December, I thoughtfully strolled through a patch of snow-covered woodland. It was a Friday morning and our Botany teacher had thought up the wonderful idea of taking a field trip to the only section of Gentle Woods that was actually open to the public. Today we were supposed to be searching for a certain, horrid, yellow, mushroom that only grew in winter. And unlike my fellow students, I was thoroughly irritated because at such time, I was no having no luck.

Knowing that my grade for the assignment depended on at least pretend participation, I shoved my hands a little deeper into my coat pockets and resolved to find one so I could finally have an excuse to get back on the warm bus.

It was this desperation that caused me to come up with the strategy of staying close enough to my classmates that I wouldn't get lost, but wandering far enough away on my own to find a stretch of snow that hadn't yet been picked over by the others.