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Jack's POV

I didn't hear the gunshot. But I did hear Brooke's scream.

I had been kneeling over the backyard pool, where I could have sworn there was something floating underneath the pool, maybe a pile of rocks, maybe a dead body, when Brooke's scream sliced the tender silence and I bolted back into the house to find the reason. When I did—I saw her standing there in the kitchen. Knees wobbling.

"Did you hear that?" She looked like she'd seen a ghost. Or heard schizophrenic voices.

Hear what? I shook my head. I'd only heard her scream. I turned around. The stairway jutted up across the dark hallway at a steep 42 degrees. Alyssa gestured that she had heard the noise from upstairs.

I felt a cold sweat pelt down my neck. Was I ready for this? I had to be. It was my way home. "Come on," I said, heading toward the stairs, ascending-- "stay close." 

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