Page 103 of Not Her Day to Die

Darius’s serenity. It is a welcome sanctuary after this brutal storm.

Axel’s chaos. It makes me realize it’s okay to not be okay.

Grayson’s power. It helps me to stand on my own feet when I can’t do it alone.

They are the pillars that have allowed me to exist without completely dissolving into a puddle of disgusting mush.

They are all silent, allowing this moment between Veronica and me.

And that is where she and I stay for hours.

After a while, she unlatches herself from me, and then she tells me about William.

How he was always looking out for her; he was so guilt-ridden by everything in this town, but he didn’t have a choice. He eventually confessed to her that he knew what they were going to do to Tripp and Auggie. She tells me how he never forgave himself…how it ate him alive...that maybe,somehow, this was his way of making up for it. He sacrificed himself for her. For us.

William was still so young, but forced to make impossible decisions. And even through it all, I could recognize he tried to keep me safe too, at least to the best of his abilities.

And I tell her that. How he warned me away from the Thornes, how he never hurt me, how when he came to me in that disgusting underground prison, he was the reason I was able to escape.

William wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve to die.

She ignores the men, gushing to me of her past, of memories of her brother, and I offer the same.

And then we move on to Carrie, on how she died, onto Julia and how long she must have been forced to endure alone to only then be cruelly shot. My heart breaks for my friends all over again.

They were taken too soon.

Then we move onto our parents and how it must be to live in a town so encapsulated with evil that they never truly had any choices either.

For hours we go back and forth, exchanging stories, igniting our anger, and eventually the brothers join in. Telling their own tales of Tripp and Auggie’s shenanigans, of fond memories together.

Eventually the conversation turns darker, of how this all came to be. Of how it was under everyone’s noses but nobody came forward.

They couldn’t.

The room is heavy, filled with a barrage of pain and happiness. Of the weight of those who we have lost, of the memories of their lives. It’s late, well past midnight, and I am exhausted—I imagine we all are—but that does not stop us. We are grieving together, we are allowing ourselves tofeel,toacknowledge,to tip-toe forward. And the longer we talk, the closer we shift together, our voices lowering to near whispers. As if we are a group of huddled children expelling our deepest secrets to our safest friends.

By the time we are finished talking, we are all yawning, but I am much lighter. Part of myself is healing, moving on, accepting that this world is horrible and also beautiful.

That I might not ever truly understand it all.

At the very end of it, I whisper, “I killed Mark.”

The confession is different in this open space, as if it has more room to spread and evolve.

“Good,” Veronica says, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “He was the worst of them all.”

“She’s right. If you hadn’t, I would have,” Axel confirms, wrapping an arm over my shoulders.

Grayson grunts his agreement.

Darius brushes the tears from my eyes.

After a few more beats of silence Veronica asks, “Is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?”

I don’t confirm with the brothers. I know they want time with just me, but I need to be with Veronica. Be here for her. I don’t want her to feel alone right now. I know that in the middle of the night is when her grief will hit the hardest. “Please.”

It isn’t much longer before I guide her to my room and offer her a change of clothes. When we get into the bed together, I squeeze her to my side and she continues on from before. But this time our conversation is hushed, whispers of dreams and hopes, and questions of why this happened to us.