desertion

114

LYDIA

Karen isn't thrilled about us being here. That much is obvious.

She hasn't said anything directly-Karen's too polite for that-but her forced smile and the way her eyes dart toward the kitchen every few minutes give her away. It's not me she has a problem with. I'm quiet, I don't take up much space, and I do my best to stay out of the way. Nathaniel, though... he's another story. He has this knack for getting under people's skin without even trying. He's loud, blunt, and unapologetically himself. Karen's not used to that.

Right now, though, Karen and I are doing our best to ignore the tension. She's sitting across from me on the couch, her legs crossed, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. We're talking about college-of all things.

"You'd love campus life," Karen says, her voice soft but steady. "The independence, the chance to really find yourself. It's... freeing."

I nod, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I guess."

I'm not really in the mood to talk about college, but it feels good to see Karen light up, even if it's just a little. Her usual warmth is dimmed tonight, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. It's strange. I've seen her before, at family dinners or whenever Miles dragged me over here to hang out. She was always the picture of calm and kindness. But tonight, she seems on edge.

Maybe we're all on edge.

From the kitchen, I can hear the low hum of voices-Miles and Nathaniel. They're trying to keep their conversation quiet, but it's not working. Their words are muffled, but their tone is unmistakable: worried, tense.

Karen glances toward the kitchen, her brow furrowing slightly. I follow her gaze, my curiosity tugging at me. I don't want to pry, but something feels off.

"Everything okay?" I ask, keeping my voice light.

Karen startles slightly, her attention snapping back to me. "Oh, yes. Of course. Just... a lot on everyone's mind, I suppose."

Her words are meant to be reassuring, but they're not. If anything, they make me more suspicious.

I force myself to stay seated for another minute, trying to focus on the conversation, but I can't. The nagging feeling in my gut won't let me.

"I'll be right back," I say, standing up and heading toward the kitchen before Karen can stop me.

Miles and Nathaniel freeze the moment I walk in. Nathaniel's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, while Miles is fiddling with a dish towel. They both look at me like I've just caught them sneaking out past curfew.

"What's going on?" I ask, crossing my arms as I stare them down.

"Nothing," Miles says quickly, his voice too casual. "We were just talking."

Nathaniel nods, but his eyes don't quite meet mine.

"Oh, please," I snap, rolling my eyes. "Don't insult me. I couldn't hear for two weeks, remember? I know how to read people."

Miles sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Lydia, it's nothing-"

"Don't," I interrupt, my voice sharp. "Just tell me."

The room falls silent. For a moment, I think they're going to keep dodging me, but then Miles sets the dish towel down and looks at me with an expression that makes my stomach twist.

"They found something," he says quietly.

I take a step closer. "What?"

Nathaniel clears his throat, his usual bravado replaced with unease. "Bodies. They found... bodies."

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. "What do you mean, bodies?"

"Two women," Miles says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They were found earlier today. Both of them had USB drives on them. Addressed to you."

The words hit me like a freight train. For a second, I can't breathe, can't think.

"They killed someone," I whisper, my voice trembling. "To get to me."

Neither of them says anything. They don't have to. The truth is written all over their faces.

This isn't just someone messing with me. This is bigger than I thought. Bigger than any of us thought.

I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, my legs too weak to hold me up. My mind is spinning, racing through a thousand thoughts at once. Who could've seen this coming? How did it get to this point?

And then the guilt hits me.

Those women died because of me. Because of me.

I press my hands to my face, my fingers digging into my temples. My chest feels like it's caving in, the weight of everything too much to bear.

"I'm the reason they're dead," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"Lydia, stop," Miles says, crouching down in front of me. "This isn't your fault."

I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if it's my fault or not. They're dead because of me. And it's not going to stop until..."

I trail off, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Until they get what they want.

Me.

"It's time to end this," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "It's time to give them what they want."

Miles looks at me like I've lost my mind, but I don't care. I can't let anyone else get hurt. Not because of me.