ROUGH DRAFT of Loser || WlW

Fourteen

Brittany runs to the bathroom as my eyes finish scanning the three lines on the single piece of paper. I can hear her heaving, the muffled screams into a towel. I don't try to comfort her. She's not the type. Or maybe I just don't know her like that. I shake my head and sit on the edge of Claire's bed. We all knew she was gone. Something in me knew she was dead but without proof, without her body turning up, it was too difficult to accept.

"Sweetie?" Brittany's mom knocks on the bathroom door, but Brittany's wailing doesn't stop.

I take a slow step out of Claire's room, the note gripped in my sweaty palm.

Mrs. Davis glances at me, her thin, blonde eyebrows pulled together in worry. "What's wrong with Brittany, Dear?"

I extend the letter to her, my hands shaking. I'm delivering the confirmation of her daughter's death.

Her bright blue eyes flick from the paper to my face and back before she takes it. Her eyes dart across the note. She holds her fingers over her mouth, letting out a small whimper. Mr. Davis is behind her, his bloodshot eyes reading over her shoulder.

"God," he whispers. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "You," he hisses through his teeth. He rips the paper from Mrs. Davis' hand and charges me, waving it in my face. "Everyone knows you have something to do with this!" He grabs the collar of my shirt. "The whole town knows what you've done. Just admit it."

I swallow hard, focusing my eyes on the floor as he grabs my arm and pulls me close.

"Let go of her before I call the police." Brittany is at the end of the hallway, looking as normal as when she picked me up at my house with her too-tall heels, too-short skirt, and tank top. Her sunglasses are fixed over her eyes.

Mr. Davis releases me, his eyes wide as he stumbles back. "I... I didn't mean..." His words are slurred as his eyes dart from face to face.

I take a step back, my heart still racing. Tears border my eyelids as I mutter an apology.

Brittany takes long strides past her father, pulling the letter from his hand. "Jesus, pull your shit together." She glances between her mother and father. "Both of you. This is pathetic."

I follow her into Claire's room and she closes the door behind me. "Sorry about them." A forced half-smile flicks to her face and leaves just as fast as she sits at Claire's computer and brings the machine to life.

I shrug. "It's okay." I get it. Their daughter is dead. I would be desperate to find the killer too. As much as Brittany trusts me, there's still something nagging me. "Brittany, how do you know I didn't kill your sister?"

Brittany pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and scans my face. "You're not a good actress."

"I'm just saying..." I pause, thinking back to Claire's debit card and how it was neatly tucked into my wallet. "I don't remember anything from that night. It..." What am I saying? "It could have been me."

Brittany rolls her eyes and types something into the computer.

I take a step toward her. "I'm serious. We don't know. I was Ubered to the hospital covered in Claire's blood. I had a head injury. The police think it came from someone pushing me." I swallow. I hadn't let my mind visit this place until now. My voice shakes and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

Brittany's eyes focus on mine.

"I'm just saying we don't know and..." I look at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. "And if we find evidence I did this, we're going to the police and I'm admitting to the whole thing."