Page 57 of The Claiming

“She’s home.” I raise my eyes at the shock on the guy’s faces.

“Are you kidding me?” Santi shakes his head.

“I can’t wait to learn how she did it.”

Another text comes through.

You should get over here

“Kennedy says we should get over there.”

The guys fall silent and I share their concern. Something is off about this and it’s not like Kennedy to be so abrupt.

I nod to the door. “We’ll grab food at the cafeteria after we’ve dropped by Willow Tree house.”

Nobody says a word as we make for the door and as we head to find Abigail, I hope she has a good explanation for what happened.

* * *

Willow Tree houseis one of the allocated girls only houses set by the aforementioned willow tree. It’s home to a dozen girls who are all in their second year at Rockwell. I know it well. I’ve fucked so many members of this house I could navigate my way around in the dark and as we step through the familiar door, Kennedy is waiting with a worried expression on her face.

“What’s up?”

She shakes her head and points to the room at the front where the girls chill in front of the television.

We pile in and head for the couch as she closes the door carefully behind her.

She perches on the edge of her seat and whispers, “Abigail wasn’t here when we got home. I wasn’t sure what to do, whether to alert the teacher or not, so I gave it until the morning. As soon as I woke up, I went straight to her room and saw her sleeping in bed.”

“You never heard her come back?” Ali asks, and Kennedy shakes her head.

“No. That’s not uncommon, though. My room is at the top of the house, like yours, Frankie.” She sighs. “Abigail is still sleeping, but something isn’t right.”

“What?” I lean forward and she whispers, “She is still wearing her outfit from last night and it appears she was dragged through the forest judging from the dirt and stains on her skirt and legs. Her face is covered with dirt and she appears to have been crying because the dirt is streaked where her tears would have fallen.”

We are silent as Kennedy’s voice shakes. “Then there’s the blood on her thighs. She’s lying on top of the bed and it trails in a dried river down her legs.”

“But she’s asleep.” I ask, and Kennedy nods.

“Out cold. I tried to shake her awake, but she didn’t even stir. Her breathing is heavy, but she won’t wake up.”

She angles her head to the doorway. “You should come and see for yourself.”

I stand and say to the guys, “Wait here. It won’t look good if we all crowd into her room. I’ll let you know what I find.”

As I follow Kennedy up a similar staircase to the one at our house, she says with concern. “I don’t like it, Frankie. It’s as if she was drugged and then brought here. Somebody must have carried her upstairs and then left. Somebody who was definitely not supposed to be here.”

I share her concern and wonder who could have access because every house has a key that only the inhabitants possess a copy of.

“She must have had the key on her at the time.” I surmise, and Kennedy shrugs.

“Possibly, but it’s still not a nice thought knowing somebody was in here last night who shouldn’t have been.”

“You don’t know that, Kennedy.” I dismiss her fears and as we reach Abigail’s room, she sighs and pushes the door open.

My eyes fall to the bed and I note Abigail sleeping soundly, the rise and fall of her breast demonstrating she is merely asleep.

“Wake up, Abi.” Kennedy shakes her, but aside from a soft moan, Abigail doesn’t open her eyes.

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