Seventeen

There's knocking on my door, and I look over my shoulder with a frown as I wash the dishes. When they don't just come in, I shake off my hands, grabbing a rag off the counter to dry them. There's another knock before I get there. "Hang on."

Swinging the door open, I blink at Kyler. "What are you doing here? How did you even know my address?"

He shifts in front of the door, looking over my shoulder into the house. "Can I just come in? I just want to talk."

"Why, is Vickie out of town?" I step to the side, opening the door further for him. "If you came here to fuck, I'm not interested." He shakes his head, walking past me and I shut the door behind us. He stops in the living room, awkwardly looking around. "Well? You wanted to talk, so talk."

His hand raises to his hair, shaking the dark brown strands anxiously through his fingers. "I just... I'm just worried about you, Hadley."

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest, watching his fingers nervously fidget. "Over what? We aren't even friends, Kyler."

"Don't act like that. I've known you since my freshman year at University, Hadley. We might not hang out all the time or talk as often as we used to, but I obviously care about you."

"Yea, whatever. Get to the point, Kyler."

He looks away from me again, his eyes falling on my nana's wind chime. "Were you at the nursing home when the fire alarm went off?"

I run my hand down my arm, frowning at his question. "Yes? Why?"

"Did you do it?" He turns to face me after he asks, his face blank of any emotion that I can read.

I scoff, shaking my head at his ridiculous question. "What? No! Why would I do that?"

His tongue comes out to swipe over his lips, his hand brushing down his face again. "Are you taking your meds?" My lips pinch at his question, the words sinking in my gut. "Don't look at me like that, Hadley. Just answer the question."

"It's none of your business. It wasn't your business when you filled in for one of your dad's pharmacists and it's not now. But yes, I am."

He laughs, like he doesn't believe me. "I don't know that I believe you. Dad said you haven't been by the pharmacy in a while."

I shake my head, my heart thumping beneath my ribs as I walk back into the kitchenette. Dunking my hands in the soapy dishes, I start washing again. "It doesn't matter what you believe. And it's gross and creepy of your dad to be keeping such tabs on me. If all you did was come here to yell at me about something I'm already doing, then you can leave."

"Who's Rhys, Hadley?"

My hand slips on a plate and I almost drop it. "We already had this conversation, remember?"

"I remember. I want you to remind me though. Where is he now?"

I shrug, dropping some silverware into the clean side of the sink. "How would I know? I don't have a tracker on him."

He walks past me, grabbing a black hoodie Rhys left last time he was here that's on the hook, holding it up. "Is this his?" I don't answer and he grabs a pair of sneakers. "Are these?"

Setting more dishes into the sink to rinse, I shrug again. "Yea, they look like his."

He blinks at me, carrying them over to me in the kitchenette. "This is an extra small hoodie and size seven shoe. You think these belong to Rhys?"

I stare at them, my eyes shifting from the things hanging from his fingers to his face. "Guess not. We wear similar things."

He tosses them on the couch, shaking his head like he doesn't understand how I'm not getting what he's trying to say. "Remember when you started running? And I made fun of you for it, saying only losers ran? Why'd you stop running, Hadley? Weren't you driving all the way on the other side of town to see some girl? Why'd you stop seeing her?"

He grabs my arms across the counter, and I freeze, my heart pounding harder with each question. He looks worried as his dark brown eyes search my face. "Did you kill them, Hadley?" I jerk back from him, water splashing onto the floor. He walks around the counter, moving to stand in front of me. "Who's Rhys, Hadley?"

Just as her eyes flutter open under my gaze, I slam her face back into the ground, watching her nose crunch and lips split even more.

I step back from him, but he follows, matching my step. "Who is Rhys, Hadley?"

Her movements are slowing, her limbs looking heavy and weak, but her eyes never close. Those beautiful minty greens stay locked on mine as her arms drop into the water and the last air bubble leaves her parted lips.

My back bumps up against the counter, my lungs burning, my anger making my hands shake. I know who the Butterfly Killer is. "Who is h—"

He looks down at the kitchen knife lodged into his gut, his hands shaking as he steps backward from me. "You're just like everyone else. Pathetic." Gripping the handle, I yank it out, watching Kyler fall back onto his ass. My ears are ringing as I bend down to look into his face. "I didn't kill those girls." He looks like he doesn't believe me, his body shifting backward in a weird crab walk as he tries to get away from me. "I didn't kill those girls!" I kick his legs, dropping down to stab my knife into his thigh. "You know what? You're just like them. All of them. You think I need those pills to be normal, that I can't function like a regular person without them. Well, you're wrong." Ripping my knife out, I slam my knife back into his stomach. I do it again, and again, and again, using his body like the therapy I never had, until his torso is nothing but torn, bloody flesh and my arms are shaking with exhaustion.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Put that down and come here, Hadley." My mother's voice calls from the doorway, the silver butterfly clips holding back the hair at her temples, glinting in the light of a candle on the shelf. I ignore her, shaking my head in silent defiance. "Be a good girl and come here."

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A good girl. I snort, lips twisting at my mother. That's not possible. Nothing I ever do is good enough for my parents. I am never good enough for them. My eyes land on my father's unblinking gaze from where I stand near his chair. It's a nice change to not hear him slinging around his insults and disappointment at my behavior. That's all he ever fucking does; all he ever has to say to me. I hear the floorboards creak as my mother takes a step into the room and my attention turns back to her. Her hands are shaking despite the confident bite of her tone just moments ago. Is she scared? What the fuck could she possibly be scared for? I'm the one going to be punished, not her. "Why are you trembling?"

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She ignores my question, her eyes flickering between my hand and my face. "Knock this off right now, young lady!" One of her hands is clutching a pleat in her long skirt, the other gripping the doorframe like she needs the support to keep from toppling over.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The crease in her brow lightens just a bit when I step forward in her direction, then quickly deepens when she realizes I'm not coming to her. My foot steps into something warm and wet when I pass my father's chair, my toes sticking to the floor as I walk to the candle on the shelf. Letting the hammer I was holding slip through my fingers to my feet, I reach for the candle. The hot glass burns against my palms as I cradle it to my chest, but I don't mind, taking a deep breath to inhale its scent. It smells like sugared donuts, far too pleasant to be in a hellhole like this. I look back at my father, his silent face staring back at me. "No."

I look at my mother. "Do you think I'm crazy?" She stutters, a drop of sweat dripping down her brow. "Do you think I'm crazy?" I scream it at her, making her jump.

"N-n-n… No. You're not crazy, Hadley."

My eyes narrow on her, the tremble in her hands growing. "Then why do you make me take pills? If you don't think I'm crazy, then why did you have Doctor Steven remove my uterus?"

"You had a medical condition. We didn't have a choice." Her eyes keep going to my father, and I scoff.

"I heard you, Mother. I heard you both. You couldn't bear the thought of me, your broken daughter, having children." I'm still holding the candle in my hands, my skin burning the longer it sits. But I don't care, it grounds me.

"You are a vile, evil child, Hadley. You are sick. Your father and I knew you could never be allowed to reproduce. You are not normal. Something is wrong with you!" She screams it at me, getting brave enough to step farther into the roomtoward my father.

Her outburst almost stuns me silent, my hands trembling so hard the candle almost falls to the ground. I pinch it harder to keep from losing it. "You created me, Mother. What does that make you?"

Eyeing me a moment, she bolts for my father, and I let her, moving to take her place at the door. She trips on the hammer I dropped—the one I used to bust my way into his study—almost falling before she catches on to the arm of his chair. She frantically starts trying to untie him, her feet splashing in the gas that's dripping down from his body and the chair. She rips the binding from his mouth, and I meet my father's gaze over her shoulder. "No!"

I let the candle drop from my hands, the glass bouncing and rolling in the gasoline. It sparks up, a hot rapid path that zips straight to my parents. My mother screams, falling back on her ass as the flames eat her up, my father trying to break from his binds as he wails in agony. I reach into the room, grabbing onto the handle to shut the door. "I am normal."

"I am normal!" I scream at his lifeless body, my chest heaving as I stare down at him.

"Hadley."

I startle at the voice, eyes wide as they jump to Rhys standing before me. "It's not what it looks like, butterfly."

My fingers tremble against the knife, blood pooling around my knees as his cornflower eyes sear through my flesh with his anger. "I think we know who the real butterfly is, don't we?"

I shake my head, dropping the knife as I stand in the pool of blood slowly eating up my kitchen floor. "It's not like that. This was an accident."

He laughs, a cruel loud sound that vibrates in my ears. "An accident? How the fuck do you stab someone that many fucking times and call it an accident? Fucking damn it, Hadley!" He steps into the blood, one of his sneakers kicking Kyler's body between us. His hand snaps out, grabbing my cheeks painfully in his palm. "What did I fucking tell you? Huh?" He throws my face away and I stumble backward, catching myself on the edge of the counter. "What did I tell you at the diner?"

He pulls out his phone, angrily dialing while I watch. "If you lose it, we both do." He brings the phone to his ear. "77843 E Redburrow St. You'll find the Butterfly Killer and the newest victim." He ends the call, tossing the phone onto the floor. Any minute now, my house will be swamped with every police officer in Rivercrest Landing. Part of me feels oddly relieved, while the other is screaming. Rhys's hands grab at his hair, his eyes landing on me.

His disappointment burns over my skin like acid, bile rising in my throat. "I didn't kill those women."

His hands drop from his head, eyes narrowing on my face with my admission. "Then who did?"

I swallow, my eyes falling to Kyler's body. "You."

He laughs again, and the sound bounces off the walls. "Bold, coming from the woman who just stabbed her casual fuck to death in her kitchen."

I wait until his eyes find mine, wordlessly begging him to believe me. "Now what?"

He doesn't answer me, red-and-blue lights reflecting in the bright blue of his eyes as he looks over my head and out the bay window.

Looks like I've run out of time.

I watch Rhys as he shakes his head, scrubbing his hands along his face. For a moment, we stand there in the chaos, the indecision thrumming between us like a spider's web. I don't watch as he turns away from me, jogging down the hallway, intent on finding a way out. Instead of following him, I swallow past the nails in my windpipe.

I put myself in this mess and I'll get myself out of it.

I blink with each bang that shakes my door, officers pounding on it while yelling for anyone inside. When I don't answer, it's kicked in, busted at the doorknob. I jump at the loud smack of it hitting the wall, swallowing through a tight throat as I'm met face-to-face with several men as they rush into my house. Sweat drips down my spine as they stare at me, their faces barely hiding their confusion as they take in the scene before them.

Rhys said the Butterfly Killer was here—they're expecting a male, probably him.

The ringing in my ears is clouding their words, making me frown as I attempt to read their lips. "Help me." The words are loud in my head, whispered past my constricted throat as they continue to stare and shout. "Help me." It's even louder, banging around in my brain as I grasp at my only hope for salvation. "Help me!" It's desperate this time, wailing past my lips.

An officer creeps forward and my eyes drop to his booted foot, watching it slap into the blood pooled on the tile. Blurred from the fat teardrops that drip from my chin, one of the officer's hands comes into view, reaching for my wrist as he speaks in a tight voice. "Ma'am what's your name?" I continue to cry, huffing and puffing long enough, he moves to grab me. "I'm going to need you to come with me. Are you hurt? Is this your blood?"

Belatedly, I remember that I'm covered in blood. I can feel it drying along my hands and feel my clothing sticking to my skin where it seeped through. I shake my head and sniffle as I raise my gaze to his, allowing him to walk me toward the door. "No, it's… it's not mine. It's—oh my God, I can't even say it! I can't believe this is real!"

My eyes squint once we step outside, police cars filling my driveway, lights flashing. An EMT runs toward me and the officer gripping my elbow, but I raise my hand, stopping him before he asks any questions.

My voice shakes. "It's not mine, it's my friends. H-he…" I wail into my forearm, my bloody palm on full display as the officer speaks over me to the EMT. After a moment, I'm led to a patrol car where a detective is waiting.

Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her jacket as she observes me, her face hard as she questions the officer now at my back. "Is he in there?" At the shake of his head, she turns her attention on me. "What's your name, ma'am? How'd you end up with all this blood on you?"

Her voice is too sweet for this job. Each syllable that leaves her mouth is as smooth as melted butter. She's pretty too. The lights are bright enough that I can see my own reflection in the brilliant green of her eyes. I almost forget my tears for a moment, looking at her, but then I pull myself together and let my lip quiver once more. "My friend in there, he's… he died." I hiccup back another sob, eyeing her through my tear-stained lashes.

"Alright, we're going to bring you to the precinct. You'll be safe there." She reaches out and pats my arm comfortingly, looking past me to the officer at my side. "Get her cleaned up and warm. We're going to do a search here and see if we can find anything on the guy we're looking for."

I'm promptly shuffled into the patrol car, blinking as the door slams shut. Staring straight ahead, I watch some officers walk around the side of my house and my pulse races, wondering if Rhys was able to get away. I'm joined in the car by two officers, and I sit back, wiping my face with the edge of my t-shirt.

My attention is drawn to the officer in the passenger seat as he looks back at me. "What's your name? Do you live here?"

When I don't answer, he shakes his head, turning back around. My eyes stay latched on my house as we back out, my head swiveling to keep it in my sight as we drive away. I don't blink until we've left my street.