The Truth Hurts

20 │pointing fingers

As she walks down the sidewalk, Taylor sends a text to Kris asking how the date is going. While on her phone, she browses through her recent texts that she had sent to Casey and sighs, seeing that there is still no response.

A car passes by and she looks up to see the sun as it sets in the distance. Although this street is just a few blocks from her house, she's never drove through here or jogged this way before. She always just passed right by it, hence why everything in this neighborhood is unfamiliar territory to her. The houses are all small and rather dank. Many of the yards are unkempt—some of the grass seems tall enough to get lost in and the fences surrounding the backyards are rotting and falling apart.

She stops at a house she passes, noticing the rusted steel numbers of the address that is nailed next to the front door. Her eyebrows narrow as she glances back at her phone to confirm the numbers with the text Morgan had sent her earlier. They match.

"She lives here?" Taylor mumbles to herself, glancing back up at the house in disbelief, before slowly walking down the uneven sidewalk toward the porch.

A ferocious pit bull barks from the neighbor's house, its head pressed up against the window as it watches her approach the front door. Slobber splatters onto the window as it continues to yap uncontrollably.

Ignoring it, she pushes the doorbell and waits patiently as she hears shuffling around inside as somebody walks to the door.

Paige opens the door and her jaw nearly drops. She tries to mask the shame as she narrows her eyes, speaking in her usual commanding tone as she peeks through the narrow crack in the door. "Oh. It's you. What are you doing here?"

"I heard about what happened." Taylor shakes her head. "You know, with Julia."

"Yeah, you and the whole town. Your point?"

"I wanted to check up and see if you were okay."

Paige scoffs as she leans against the doorframe, placing her hand on her hip."Oh, really? Now you care?"

"Excuse me?" Startled, Taylor takes a step forward. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Because that night—" Paige's voice raises but she quickly catches herself, lowering it to a short whisper as she glances around the porch. "That night your brother killed that kid. You wanted to leave!"

"Paige—"

"No, Taylor, don't you see? All of this is your fault." Paige gives her a condescending glare. "You were the one that drove away."

Taylor crosses her arms defensively. "Yeah, well that didn't stop you from getting in the car."

"No, it didn't. But I shouldn't have." She pulls back through the crack in the door. "So thank you for dragging me into this mess. As for Julia—well, that blood is on your hands."

Before Taylor can say another word the door is slammed shut in her face. She turns around to see the pit bull panting, his breath filling the glass with fog, as he stares back at her. She can't help but think of Nash... and Marc.

The door unlocks, gradually easing open as Millie quietly slips inside of her house. She peeks around the dark hallway, on guard for her father, as she glances around the wooden staircase in front of the door. Slowly, she shuts the door when a sudden creak in the floor behind her makes her jump. She spins around to see—

Sheriff Raul Martinez worriedly stepping out of the shadows from the den, his arms crossed.

"Oh my god, Dad." She takes a deep breath, putting her hand to her chest. "You scared me."

"I could say the same for you." His tone is serious. "Where have you been?"

"I stayed late. I was working on the paper with Marc."

"After what happened today..." He shakes his head, the image of Julia coming to his mind. The thought of anything happening to his daughter, even just a scratch, terrifies him. "I just don't want you out that late."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

He takes a sigh of relief as he runs his hands through his short hair. "For right now, make sure you get home before dark. No later than eight. Okay?"

"Okay." She smirks as she hurriedly walks toward the stairs and grabs onto the railing.

"And Millie..."

She stops at the third step, turning to see him as he twists the lock above the door handle and then glances up at her. "Make sure you lock the door."

Nodding, she turns back to run up the stairs.

Sheriff Martinez lingers there for a moment, listening as Millie gets to her bedroom and shuts the door, then turns around. He peeks through the thin curtains of one of the long, thin window strips that are on each side of the door, looking around the lit up front yard. A small windmill, placed in the garden by his wife before she passed, spins hastily as a breeze comes rolling through. With each twirl, the rusted metal sends a short screech echoing in the wind.

Moments later, he is back in the den sitting at a wooden table next to the fireplace as he sips from a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He reaches over to grab a thick folder from a tall stack of documents and opens it. It's a police report, along with images, of the crime scene. Pictures of Julia's mutilated body and the locker room begin to scatter across the desk as he goes through each one, eyeing every detail.

At the bottom of the stack lies the report of the bus accident.

♫ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ (ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ɢᴏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ) / sᴛᴇʀᴇᴏᴘʜᴏɴɪᴄs ♫