LUCIAN
“I need you,” she whispered.
Absolutely not.
But I found myself asking instead. “What are you talking about.”
She shook her head again and again, like she was trying to shake the thought loose as mascara dragged in uneven black trails down her cheeks. “I didn’t do it,” she said thickly. “I swear… I swear I didn’t.”
This is the second time she’s saying the same thing this night and I’m more confused than ever.
“You’re not making any sense here. Didn’t do what?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, then hiccupped softly. “It’s… it was…” Her hand lifted and fell uselessly in the air. “I didn’t… it wasn’t me.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said.
“It was Nathan,” she slurred, the name stretching awkwardly on her tongue. “Him. He said he’d… he’d make it bad.” She frowned at the floor. “H
