Page 95 of Lucky 14

I just want to go home. I have to fight for myself. For once, I need to not fight for anyone other than me. I need to let the therapist side in me die. Need to bury her on the island.

I stand, resolved. But as I do, self-hatred overwhelms me.

They’ve made you like them. The new skull mask. The one who cheats death.

Shaking my head, I put the rest of the toast in Wyatt’s pocket.

No one will know how he died.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the guilt.

He’ll never get a blue ICEE again. You could have changed that, but you didn’t. Because you’re a coward.

My feet cement to the ground.

I am not a coward.

You’ll be Fourteen for the rest of your life. Holli will die.

“Holli isn’t dead,” I hiss into the darkness. Of course, it doesn’t answer back. My chest feels tight, like I need to scream or fight. I don’t want to save Oakley. I want to save myself.

Yanking the mask over my face, I rip the closet door open. I march down the hall, moving to the front of the hotel where the dining hall is. Where the elevator is. The elevator to Oakley’s room.

I’ll just check his room, and then I’ll go. It’s the only place I know he could be. If he’s anywhere else, I can’t help him.

Moving upstairs is a blur, and then I’m standing in front of his room.

That new voice in me is screaming to run. And yet, I fish Wyatt’s key out of his pocket and hold it up, but not close enough to engage the lock.

What if Oakley is in here, but so is Wyatt? I’d be so dead. Both of us would be.

On the flip side, what if I’m wrong about Oakley and he’s just as bad as the others, and he keeps me for himself? I’d also be dead.

Ears humming, I realize I’m halfway between the room and outside. Forced to make a choice, I slip inside, shutting the door behind me. For a second, everything looks the same. The pillow is still on the floor, and the bed is messed up.

But Oakley isn’t in it.

My stomach bottoms out. Whirling, I notice the bathroom door is slightly closed. And the humming in my ears blends with the sounds of the shower.

Someone’s showering.

A mix of emotions turns in my chest.

Showering. Like everything is normal. Almost like…Oakley isn’t a prisoner of Wyatt’s. Like he’s going about life as normal.

Like I wasn’t missing.

Like he didn’t care.

Whirling, I turn to leave, then a cold thought crosses my mind. What if someone turned the shower on to cover the sounds of a struggle? What if he’s dead on the floor, eyes vacant like Connor’s?

Suddenly, I can’t not know. I came all this way, I have to know. Shoving the door open, I scan the floor.

No blood. Relief rocks my system, and I glance up.

Oakley’s in the shower, naked, hand braced against the wall, other hand on his dick.

It shocks me so much that I freeze.