“Are you saying, Natalie, did she–”

“You’re not fit to say her name.”

Gary and Scott turned at the voice. A woman stood at the coffee machine, her back to them. Her hair was the most noticeable thing about her: long, braided. When she turned, Gary saw she had a confident face, her features cutting. “Natalie.” She blew on her coffee. “You don’t deserve to say her name, neither of you.”

Gary looked at Scott, but Scott was just gazing back at him. He didn’t know her either.

“I’m sorry,” Gary said. “I don’t understand.”

“Do I need to sing you a song? I was Natalie’s girlfriend, and now I’m Lauren’s girlfriend. And I’m going to kill you both if she doesn’t wake up.”

51

CASEY

Casey felt like she was sinking into a deep pit; she tried to open her eyes but they felt like they were glued shut. Her bed was ridiculously uncomfortable. She clawed her hand out, looking for the light, but instead rolled and landed painfully on the floor. She cursed, as her eyes finally opened.

She was in a cell. She could smell piss and vomit. Her lips were crusty with sick. She coughed, trying to clear her throat, but it was dry and raspy.

Snippets of a red night came to her: of screaming, cutting, laughing. She’d had the confrontation outside the school, defended herself, and then she’d gone home and… vignettes attacked her mind, vivid in their brightness, Scott screaming as she wriggled the scissors, the crunch of Lauren’s delicate skull.

Yes, and then the fight with Gary…

But after, fuck, after she’d bragged about it to the police.

She paced the cell, shaking her head. She’d never normally let herself get so messed up on drugs; she could normally control how much she used. But she’d had some vodka before the incident outside the school. That always made them hit harder, plus there was all the smoking, all the snorting.

She hated that version of herself. What an idiot. What an amateur.

Insane ranting came to her, the words she’d flung at the police officers. It’s lucky you fucks got to me before I slit her fucking cunt throat–

Casey winced, knowing she’d let it get out of control. The drugs. It always made her spiral. She’d make a change; she’d do it. Once she was out of here. Would she get out? Oh, God; this was bad. This was so, so bad. She wanted to cry.

“Here she is, Princess Charming.” A slot opened in the door, light shining through a metal grille; a prison guard or police officer peered in, a spotty freak whatever he was, a real mean-looking man. “Any more pearls of wisdom, sweetheart?”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Casey said. “I don’t belong here. Whatever I said last night, you can’t hold that against me.”

“Again with this? I can’t do the same dance over and over. I’ve got weak knees.”

He laughed at his own shit joke. Casey quickly laughed with him, but it didn’t work; he only scowled.