“What are you talking about?” Louisa asks, her eyes changing from a look of shock to a look of detest. “The door wasn’t locked. We just walked in here perfectly fine.”
“No. It was locked. I even called out for help, but—”
Louisa turns her head to look at her friends who have yet to stop staring at me as if I’m some sort of two-headed circus freak. “I’m sorry you ladies have to witness this. Ember has… been through a lot.”
Their looks of shock morph to looks of pity. I hate these looks even more.
“You poor thing,” one woman says.
“You’re safe now,” another adds.
“You don’t understand,” I say as I reach for Louisa’s hand. She pulls away as if touching me would cause a chemical reaction to her creamy white skin. I pause when I realize these women—including Louisa—think I’ve gone mad.
“You need help, Ember,” Louisa says, glancing at her friends for their agreement. The other three women nod as if they know who I am and are in a place to know what’s best for me. “I’ve been telling Christopher this over and over again.” She pulls out her phone from a small clutch she has around her wrist and begins dialing.
“Louisa, I’m not making this up. This isn’t in my head. If you will just sit down and listen to me, you’ll see we are all in danger. Papa Rich is a vengeful man, and he’s going to punish us all for our misdeeds.” I hand her the piece of straw. “This is proof that Scarecrow is here with him. He left it behind to mess with me, to mess with us all.”
The other women all step away at this time. The movement allows me to leave the closet and enter the room, which only makes them cower farther away. They’re all acting like I’m going to hurt them. Realizing these women are terrified of me, I retreat back into the closet to give them all some space.
To give me some space.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t process.
All I know is no one is listening, and we’re all in danger.
“Come home now,” Louisa says into the phone as she shoots daggers from her eyes at me. “It’s Ember. She’s lost her mind completely. You need to come home and deal with this immediately.”
I open my mouth to tell her she’s wrong. I’m saner and more levelheaded than I’ve been since arriving. I’m finally seeing what’s going to happen. I’m no longer hiding from truth. He’s coming. He’s coming.
“Christopher! I’m telling you to come home.”
16
Christopher
It was time to face the demon head-on.
Maybe not the smartest choice, considering that my mind wasn’t in the game for this photo shoot, but still, something had to be done. I took the opportunity of being alone—without Ember—on the plane to finally read all the information that had been gathered on Richard by my attorneys and Jason. I spent the last few weeks trying to get the thought of Richard out of Ember’s mind, which meant not discussing him, not bringing up the investigation, and trying to forget this awful experience ever occurred. Ember needs to move on, and the only way I feel she can do so is by trying to erase Papa Rich from her memories and future thoughts.
But now that I’m alone for a longer stretch of time, it’s time I see what the current status is.
Snapping picture after picture of the latest starlet, I try to focus on her, but all I can see are the beady and evil eyes of Richard. Reading the file fucked me up. What little healing I had done had just been ripped wide open and is now an oozing, festering wound again.
Richard is now referred as The Ghost Town Killer and officially considered a serial killer. Twenty-two victims turned up missing in Hallelujah Junction and are now presumed dead per the accounts Ember was able to give the authorities. They believe The Ghost Town Killer is now responsible for all of their deaths. The information in my files reveals that not a single body was able to be exhumed from the acid pits due to the conditions. It truly was a genius move for a serial killer to use the acid pits as his mode for murder. No evidence left behind. Only two witnesses.
Me and Ember.
I saw a picture of the couple who tried to help Ember and me, which cost them their lives. It was like a punch to the gut repeatedly, and I can’t help but feel like blood is on my hands. They died because of me. I put them in the situation, and I was helpless in saving them. But they were only two of the twenty-two victims. Which means poor Ember has twenty more deaths to feel guilty over than I do.