Whitethorn Academy

Chapter Two

"I need you to tell me what happened. Everything. As much as you can remember."

The woman, Detective Brennan, sat in front of me, her caramel brown hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her dark blazer was unbuttoned, giving me an unobstructed view of her badge—and her gun.

The latter made me swallow hard, and my palms were sweaty with panic. I wiped them on my borrowed sweatpants hastily, hoping the detective didn't notice.

A clock on one of the slate-gray walls had been stuck at thirteen past eight since the moment they'd brought me in here.

"Selene," Brennan said, her voice soft, yet insistent. "This is important."

I rubbed my eyes, which ached with the migraine pulsing behind them.

"Selene, I need to know what happened last night."

"And I keep telling you, I don't know." My answer was genuine. I could remember before the bonfire. But beyond the first few drinks, the actual event itself was a blank slate in my mind.

From those drinks until I'd woken up in the woods was a span of darkness.

Detective Brennan sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. A watch glittered at her wrist, but from my seat, I couldn't read the time. "Selene, we have to know what happened," she prodded. "Start from the beginning."

I pressed my fingers against my temples, digging into the sensitive pressure points. Last night was murky and trying to remember felt like sifting through dirty water. The more I dug beyond the surface, the more mud and gunk clouded everything.

"My stepfather made me volunteer at a church charity event," I said. "He said that afterward, I could go to the bonfire with my friends, but I'd have to take Oliver with me."

"And Oliver is your step-brother, correct?"

I nodded.

"And when did the event end?" Brennan had pulled out a notepad and was marking on it quickly with her pen. Her handwriting was hurried, rushed, as if she couldn't write them fast enough.

"Around five, I think. I went back home to change. Hanna came to pick Oliver and I up."

"Your friend, Hanna Ridge, correct?" Detective Brennan was observing me, as if trying to determine if I was lying. I supposed it was her job, but her constant eyes on me made me feel uneasy. I cast my eyes toward the table, where my hands sat.

They were now free of blood, but I could remember the feeling too vividly. The skin around my fingers was raw and bleeding from where I'd nervously picked at the skin.

I nodded in response to her question.

"We arrived at the bonfire a little before dark," I continued quickly.

The stench of flame and smoke still hung heavy on my skin, even hours after the fact. My temples pounded with an echo of my heart, sending aching waves of pain crashing through me.

But I pushed through the pain because Detective Brennan was staring at me, her eyes hyper focused. Whatever the reason she was questioning me, she made me feel uneasy. Her eyes demanded answers.

"You, Hanna, and Oliver?" Brennan asked, her voice neutral. But I could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. She was determined to pull every single detail out of me. But there was so much I didn't know.

"Yes. Oliver stayed in the car because he didn't want to be there. But Vincent had insisted I take him. Hanna and I followed the crowd to the clearing. Jordan, Hanna's boyfriend, met us along the way."