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Allie doesn't believe the car crash that caused her amnesia was an accident. She knows the truth...
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AFTER A RESTLESS night, I wake up ready for war.
During the sleepless hours I spent in the darkness of my bedroom, my mind was buzzing and alive, Mason's words still fresh in my head, and I went over it all countless times. The betrayal, the deception, the murder plot that went awry when it became too real. Remarkably, the more I processed the situation, the less afraid I began to feel, making way for a blinding rage that's lasted until this morning, and I don't think it'll be going away any time soon.
The fact that they actually had the audacity to go through this whole thing, and that they thought they could actually get away with it—that they still think they can—infuriates me to no end. They need to pay for what they've done to me.
I feel like an idiot for all the effort I've put into trying to make them like me, to protect their feelings, and meet their expectations, when all the while they're the reason my life has been ruined.
The moment it's somewhat socially acceptable to be awake, I fly out of bed, getting dressed and putting effort into my appearance for the first time in what feels like a long time. I'm not sure why, since I don't have anyone to impress, but if I show up at school looking put-together and confident, it might piss Zoe off, and that the thought of that gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction.
It's still quiet in the house when I creep down the stairs. As stealthily as I can manage, I head for the front door, slipping into my shoes, pulling on my coat and grabbing my school bag. After glancing at the address displaying on my phone screen, I slide the device into my pocket, leaving home and walking down the drive. It takes a while, but I eventually reach my destination.
Taking a deep breath, I stare at the house in front of me, looking for signs of life. After several moments of nothing, I pull out my cell phone. Navigating to my messages, I shoot off a new one, typing quickly.
Come outside, it reads, humming as it delivers.
Sliding it back into my pocket, I lift my chin, my gaze returning to the house as I wait once more.
It doesn't take long for the front door to open, and a very disoriented-looking Mason Byrne to appear.
His ice blue eyes are bewildered, dark hair mussed with sleep, and he remains in the doorway wordlessly, shaking his head as if to clear it. Swallowing, I approach him, walking up the creaky wooden steps of the porch until I'm two feet away from him. The shocked look on his face doesn't budge, his eyes running over my face, as if the sight of me standing on his front porch is too strange to comprehend.
"How did you find my house?"
I raise my eyebrows. "Google," I say promptly, and one of his own eyebrows quirks up in response as I slide past him, my shoulder grazing his chest, escaping the chill.
Once I'm safely inside, he closes the door behind me, locking it. The entryway of the Byrne house is small and cramped, and I find myself trapped between Mason and the front door, though he makes no moves to let me further into the house. I try to ignore our close proximity and the racing of my heart. He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks me over, and despite his clear lack of approval of my presence, he appears to be slightly amused.
