Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
My lips curved despite myself, my heart stuttering in my chest. I leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. I pulled back, smiling, and stood, slipping off his lap as another few droplets splattered across my hair.
We gathered our things quickly.
Ryder shook out the blanket, tucking it under his arm with the basket cradled in his other hand. Halfway up the trail, Ryder slowed and pulled his varsity jacket off, shifting the things in his arms, then he dropped it over my head.
“Rye, no.” I tried to shove it back at him. “You don’t have to do that. What am I? The Wicked Witch? I won’t melt.”
He laughed. “I’d rather you stay dry than watch you shiver like a wet dog the whole drive home.”
“That’s mildly insulting,” I huffed as we continued moving.
We finally reached the truck. He unlocked it quickly, then walked me around to my side and opened my door first.
I climbed in and held his coat in my arms. He tossed the basket and blanket into the back seat and took the jacket from me after he was in his seat, running his fingers over the pockets.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“My phone must’ve fallen out somewhere.”
I started to reach for the door handle. “Let’s go retrace—”
“No,” he cut in firmly, hand shooting out to still me. “It’s about to pour. I’ll go.”
“I can help.”
“You’ll help me from right here and stay dry. Wait like four minutes, then call it for me, okay?”
“Fine. Go.”
He pressed a quick, rough kiss to my lips. “I’ll be right back.”
Then he was gone, hopping out and jogging back down the trail, disappearing around the bend. I looked around, noticing the other cars were gone. It was just us out there now. I slumped back into my seat, adjusting the climate controls, the steady purr of the heater filling the cab. Two minutes in, I called him. The phone rang to voicemail. I hung up and dialed again, checking my notifications. Everyone was talking about the same thing.
Crowsnest Confessions.
I ended the call, re-dialed his number, and placed the call on speakerphone so that I could open the website. God only knew what fresh hell was waiting. I logged in with my student ID. The system assigned me a random tag—Anon462. The most recent post at the top had a full username. HauntedMind92. You only got a full name when you made a confession.
HauntedMind92
What do you do when the guilt eats you alive?
When you hear her voice every time you close your eyes?
I swear I didn’t mean to hurt her.
I tried to forget, but the blood won’t wash off. I’m sorry, Britt.
Brittany?
I swallowed, reading it again. My pulse thundered in my ears, my fingers going numb around my phone. This had to be another sick joke, like that video. I scrolled through the comments:
Anon198: Bruh, did you just admit to a crime on a message board?
Anon413: Guilt doesn’t haunt you. People do.
Anon1031: New drinking game: take a shot every time someone confesses to murder.
Anon190: Stop confessing here and go to the cops.
Anon1021: It’s not her voice you should be worried about.
Anon752: Sounds like you need a priest, not a forum.
Who the hell was HauntedMind92?
A faint tapping sound had me jumping in my seat. I looked around but saw nothing. I exited the website and dialed Ryder again. Another tap, louder this time. My hair stood on end.
Had that come from behind me?
I turned slowly, looking through the rear window. There wasn’t anything there. I turned and slammed my hand against the lock button, heart hammering so hard I felt it in my teeth.
“Where are you, Rye?”
I turned on the defroster. His wipers were censored and already sweeping across the glass, clearing the rain in jerky motions. When his phone went to voicemail again, I went to call once more. A text came in.
1031
You shouldn’t have let him go.
Poor little cheerleader. All alone.
Panic clawed up my throat. Another tap — harder this time, sharp and certain.
I turned—freezing.