. . . without further ado, I present to you the first installment of Madison Brooks’s journal.
Make of it what you will, but please note that I did not make this up, this is not a work of fiction, and it came to me via a reliable source.
As always, feel free to exit through the comments section on your way out.
October 5, 2012
I’m so over it!!!!
So over absolutely EVERYTHING!
Including my so-called friends, my family, my stupid fake boyfriend, but mostly, this stuffy, boring, stick-up-its-ass town.
Layla could hardly breathe as her gaze skimmed the words.
The Ghost saved me—spared me from a future too horrible to contemplate. . . .
I guess you could say I owe him my life.
Then again, he owes me his too. . . .
If I ever go down, he’s going down with me. Though I’m pretty sure that only works one way. Because if P goes down first, he’ll go down alone. And he’ll take all my secrets with him as well. He already proved it six years ago when he made a choice to save me. Which is why I guess, in a lot of ways, I consider him my real father.
Anyway, tomorrow is the day I board the bus to LA and never look back. . . .
It’s crazy to think how next time I write in here, I’ll be living an entirely different life!
???
Layla’s hand flew to her mouth. “Omigod,” she whispered through trembling fingers.
“Everything okay?”
Her dad watched with concern from inside the garage.
“Mmm . . . Yeah. Of course.” She sank her phone into her pocket and followed him inside.
She’d been hacked, that much was clear. And though her first instinct was to delete the post, the chilling text convinced her to leave it untouched.
According to whoever had sent it, her failure to play along before had landed them all in jail, possibly even getting someone killed.
Her dad ushered her down the hall and urged her to get some rest. “Later I’ll make dinner. Or we can order in, up to you. Also, I spoke with Ira. He said not to worry about coming to work. He wants you to take some time—whatever you need.”
Layla gave a distracted nod, headed into her room, and sank onto her bed. Gazing at the portrait her father had painted of her as a child, she wondered if she’d ever be able to smile as genuinely, spontaneously, and unselfconsciously as that again.
At the moment, it seemed inconceivable.
As wound up as she currently felt, sleep seemed inconceivable too. And yet, there were long days ahead, and she knew better than to face them in a state of exhaustion.
After a hot shower, she pulled on an old Stevie Nicks concert T-shirt and slipped beneath the covers.
Briefly, she thought of Tommy and the night they’d spent together. The sex had been amazing, but they’d sworn to each other there would be no strings attached. They were busy pursuing their dreams and couldn’t afford the distraction. That would only amount to a mistake neither of them was willing to make.
At the time, Layla had been willing to agree to just about anything to ensure that Tommy’s lips continued to press against hers.
But now she was glad for the pact. No matter how much she missed him, no matter how much she longed to check in and see how he was doing, the note had sent a clear warning. And in light of everything that had happened, she was done playing stubborn.
When she woke, the mess would still be there, calling her name. But for the moment, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.