Page 22 of Forged in Rain

The officer says something low to Pam, and I back away, following Iris out the door, wondering if Pam found the pictures. But supposedly, they depicted her as an accomplice, which makes her accusations strange.

Are there pictures of me in there? Did she give them to the cops? Shit. I’ve never gotten over the thought that the bastard had cameras somewhere in the house. How else would he incriminate Pam without her knowing?

Walking away blankly, I circle the neighborhood for hours before eventually finding myself on the street where Jig lives. Shuffling my aching feet, I stare at the facade in the distance before pulling out my phone and texting him.

Are you home?

Nope, why?

Never mind

Why, LB?

Knowing he’ll keep asking if I don’t respond, I text,I’m by your house

Go on inside. I’ll unlock the doors for you

K

I glance around uneasily as I approach and let myself inside. The doors are indeed unlocked, and I breathe a sigh of relief when no one greets me. Although curious about Jig and his absentee parents, I’m too tired to do more than trudge up the stairs and pad down the hall.

Collapsing on the bed I slept in before, I curl into a ball and stare at the wall.

Iris’ sheer devastation when her own mother accused her of being with John rolls through my brain along with Pam’s hateful expression until I can’t take the ache, and I hold back a sob.

John deserves to die for taking Iris’ innocence, hell, her soul. But what did we do but make everything worse? I should have reported it. I should have told someone and let John be taken away because now we’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it could happen when we least expect it.

We don’t know where he is. We don’t even know if he’s dead. I could go to jail.

And what should have been peace in the wake of the horror is more insane than it was before. We’re trapped on the road, and there are no pit stops on the way to hell.

I’m dozing when the bed dips and hard arms wrap around me. My heart lifts at the gesture until Jig speaks, and it falls, pulsing dully once more.

“What’s wrong, LB?” Jig says softly.

“Everything is all wrong,” I sniffle pathetically.

“It’ll be all right,” he soothes.

“Promise?” I whisper, and he says gruffly, “Promise.”

And I ignore the fact that he can’t make those kinds of vows any more than I can. We’re all fucked in the end.

∞∞∞

“What the fuck! Get up, now!” Cyn shouts, and I startle from a dead sleep, sitting up and glancing around warily.

Jig pulls away from my side and stands as Cyn steps into his face with thunderclouds behind his eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What you won’t,” Jig says, clenching his jaw.

Wide eyed, I stare between the two, wincing when Cyn says in a deadly soft tone, “Leave before I hurt you.”

Jig huffs and sneers, “What’s the big deal? You don’t want her, remember?”

Cyn shoves Jig, and with a gasp, I fly out of bed but shrink back under Cyn’s feral stare.

Jig pushes Cyn back and snarls, “Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her like that.”

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