Page 127 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“Later, Jackson.”

He stared at me for a long second, then swallowed every question that wanted to come out. Whatever he saw on my face was enough to stop him.

He helped me onto a fallen trunk a few yards back from the body, pulled on the gloves, and looked at me.

“Tell me what to do.”

“We gather the torn clothes first,” I said. “Then burn as much as possible. It won’t erase everything, but it will destroy most of the scent and DNA. After that we bury what’s left deeper in the forest.”

Jackson inhaled slowly, then nodded. “Alright.”

He spread gasoline across the body and the surrounding ground, then struck the match. The fire caught hard and fast. The smell of burning flesh hit almost immediately. Nausea rolled through me so violently I had to turn away, pressing my sleeve over my mouth while old memories clawed hard at the back of my skull. My fingers dug into the bark beside me.

By the time the flames died down, the last light had gone copper at the edges of the sky. Jackson kicked dirt over the embers, spread the tarp, and rolled what remained of John onto it before knotting the corners shut. He hoisted the bundle over his shoulder.

“I’ll come back for the rest,” he said. “Lean.”

Roughly three hundred yards off any trail, I tapped his arm and pointed.

“Here. The roots won’t be too bad.”

He lowered the bundle, helped me settle against a tree, then went back for the gear. When he returned he pulled the shovel free and started digging.

I sat with my knees drawn up, pain settled into a low steady throb beneath my ribs. I watched in silence while Jackson worked without complaint, sweat dampening his shirt despite the cold. He followed my instructions on separating the soil layers.

When the hole was deep enough, he rolled the remains in and began filling it back in layer by careful layer. By the time he smoothed the final layer of moss into place, the forest had gone fully dark.

We returned to the original burn site. Jackson poured the last of the gasoline across the tarp and lit it. Thick black smoke twisted upward as the plastic curled and melted. He shifted afterward, his wolf tearing through the ash and scattering wet leaves and branches until the scorched ground looked closer to storm debris than anything deliberate.

When he shifted back, dirt streaked his chest and forearms.

“Better?” he asked.

I studied the clearing one last time before nodding.

“Yeah.”

By the time we made it back to the house, it was fully dark and the moon had risen above the trees.

After another shower and fresh bandages, we lay together in my bed beneath the blankets. Jackson held me tightly against his chest, positioning himself instinctively between me and the bedroom door. Under my palm, his heartbeat still raced too fast. I counted automatically before I could stop myself. 120 beats per minute. Far too high for resting.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked into the darkness.

I exhaled slowly. Then, piece by piece, I started telling him everything.

Chapter 36: The Night Everything Burned

Trigger warning: This chapter contains scenes of sexual violence, abuse, and graphic trauma involving minors.

10 years ago

The smell of potato soup filled the kitchen by the time Harmony and I came downstairs. The kind of thick, heavy smell that meant Mom had used the last of the cream. She always used the last of something these days.

"There you two are. Perfect timing."

We moved around each other in the small space. Harmony sliced the bread. I set the table. Mom stirred the pot and talked about tomorrow’s chores and whether I had finished my reading assignment. She still gave us schoolwork even though we hadn’t been to a real school since Dad died two years ago.

When the soup was ready, Mom served us first. The rest went into her own bowl. Noticeably less. Harmony and I exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. We had stopped mentioning it months ago.