ROUGH DRAFT of Loser || WlW

Forty-Two

My lungs are going to explode. Bubbles collect around my face as I stare up at the woman who hungers for my death.

I don't fight back this time. Her curly brown hair hangs in front of her face as she pushes me against the bottom of the tub. Maybe if I act like I don't care, she'll leave me alone. Or maybe I really don't care.

Kill me I want to say. See if I give a shit.

She drags me to the surface, but as I emerge from the water, my mother's features distort, her eyes are green, her hair buzzed until Trevor is staring back at me, shoving me under the water again.

"Fight back, Freak!" he shouts through clenched teeth.

Everything goes black as something crashes into the water next to me. Trevor's lifeless eyes are fixed on my face. His purple lips mutter, "Why'd you do this?"

I shoot into a sitting position in Brittany's bed, gasping in air.

Brittany is sitting at her desk, typing something on her laptop. "Third one tonight," she says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flick to her sweat-soaked pillow as she hands me a glass of water.

"I'm sorry." I gulp back the cold water. "They're not usually this bad."

She stares at me.

"What?" I ask.

"I know it's bad to say this or whatever but I'm so glad it wasn't you." She moves so she's sitting next to me and pulls the blanket over her legs. "You're all I have left after all this."

I lean my head on her shoulder.

"My mom is cheating on my dad with the gardener. My dad drinks his weight in hard liquor. Claire is gone. All of the 'friends' I had in high school left when things got rough." She shakes her head and changes the subject. "Are you going back to sleep?"

"I need to find Grace." I haven't been able to keep food down or sleep since she went missing. I won't be able to relax until I know she's safe.

"I get it," she says.

"You want to come with me?"

Her lips pull into a smile. "Are we going to Papa's Pizza?" She pauses and raises an eyebrow at me.

I push her. "Even if we did go to Papa's Pizza, I'd make you wait in the car."

She swings her legs off the edge of the bed and glances at me over her shoulder. "Someone jealous?" She smirks as she grabs her purse from the nightstand.

"Incredibly jealous," I joke.

It doesn't take long for us to get ready since Brittany never went to sleep and I've given up on my appearance. She pulls my hair into a French braid and gives me a new pair of jeans. Luckily, the T-shirts she sleeps in can pass as something I'd wear out.

"Shoes," I grumble into her closet. I wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of high heels. "Do you have any normal shoes?" I've been shuffling through boxes for five minutes and all I can see are heels.

She pulls a pair of gray vans from under her bed and extends them to me. "I swear to God, Jordan. If you tell anyone I own these..."

"They're just shoes," I protest.

"I'm Brittany," she says as if I've forgotten and walks toward the door, clutching her purse over her shoulder.

We stop by my house on the way to the clearing in the forest where we found Claire's body. My dad will appreciate seeing me after all he got was a text from Brittany's phone saying I'm okay.