Allison Hawthorne is dead - murdered in cold blood. Six lives remain at stake. The best part? I'm only getting started.
The Beacon Heights High School has been a gateway to the world of the elite for over two decades, but when newcomer April Park s...
"And detective Gonzalez? Where was he standing amidst all this mess?" detective Richardson asked.
"Nowhere as near as us, obviously." I shrugged.
"Do you think that's related to what happened later?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly asking a definite answer from my end, but I knew better, that opening my mouth was not a luxury I could afford. In fact, it would only make matters worse. So, I relied on doing what I was best at. Playing along.
"I have no idea, detective. Just for this once," I said, leaning in, "I'm on as much of a blank slate as you are."
******
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ＦＥＢＲＵＡＲＹ ２７， ２０２０
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What do you do when the person you've spent loving for so long loves you back? When they finally admit to their feelings and you hear the words you've been dying to hear from them?
I love you.
And what do you do when they take that word, rip it into shreds and throw them in your face? When they stab you in the back with the same hands they loved you with the night before? When all you're left with are the happiest memories of your life, and the saddest consequences that follow?
The room was quieter than I preferred, my mind hollow, the voice in my head gone. It was as if the world had abandoned me. Or maybe it was just me realizing how it felt when everything you've believed in, comes crashing down, taking you down with it.
But I was Maeve Rosenstein, and I went for everything I set my eyes upon. And today was the day I had to prove myself and what I was best at.
Grabbing my phone, I swiped up and watched as ten missed call notifications lit up the screen. All from Shanish, and I slept through each of them. It was on silent, and I couldn't afford to remember if I did that. I ordered a cab and rushed to the washroom. Twenty-five minutes on the clock.
******
It didn't take much long to get to Bellagio, but the miserable thoughts I had on the way were more difficult to battle through. I felt like my head was going to explode, and that I was going to faint. My hands shook and my breaths were heavy and regretful. I slammed the driver for trying to talk to me, but tipped him on my way out. I was sorry for him, more sorry for myself.
