Page 42

“Vero,” I say, pocketing my phone. “I have to go.”

“I’m coming.”

“Kayla,” I warn.

“Clay, either take me with you or I will fucking swim there.”

“It’s not pretty.” I need her to hear what I am saying. “When he spirals, it’s not something you can prepare for. It’s not fun to watch—he won’t want you to see it.”

“Friendships don’t end when shit gets hard, Clay. Take me with you.”

I sigh. I believe her when she says that she will make her own way there, so I open her door and watch her climb inside before I close it, then hurry around to my side, slide in, and start the engine.

Chapter Fifteen

Kayla

The drive to the island is silent. Finally, the bridge lights appear through the windshield, but all I can think about is Vero, and I push everything else out of my mind. Clay slams to a halt, and we are barely out of the truck before Brawley appears, Ares a few steps behind him. Brawley glances at me and then at Clay. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing her here? We have no idea what we are walking into.”

“He was thinking that Vero is my friend,” I say before Clay can even open his mouth. “And I won’t sit at home while my friend needs help. Even if that means helping you look for him. Now tell me where you have already searched, so we can cover more ground.”

Brawley stares at me and nods. “The asylum, his room, the bar, the cemetery, and the cornfield perimeter. If he was fucking with Cave, we would have heard it.”

“Does he have any places he goes that aren’t on the island?” I ask. “Somewhere he would think no one would look?”

“No,” Brawley says, and I can hear the sadness in his voice.

“Then he is here somewhere,” I say. “Let’s split up.”

No one argues, and we head off in different directions. Though I am at a disadvantage of not knowing the island, there is no way I will let it stop me.

I head toward the big tent, and it is so quiet I can hear my own footsteps—it feels freaky being here alone. Using the torch on my phone to light my way, I check the corners and all the areas where a person could be hiding. I’m about to leave when a whimper catches my attention, and it’s so faint that I almost convince myself it was my imagination. Instead, I move toward the main stage, where my light catches on a door at the base. It is most likely a prop storage area, but as I crouch down and try the handle, I find that it’s locked from the inside.

“Vero?” I whisper.

There is nothing but silence, yet my gut says he’s inside.

“It’s Kayla, I’m by myself,” I tell him quietly, as I have no idea what his episodes look like, and I don’t want to scare him. “If you don’t want to let me in, I can just sit here.”

“How did you find me?” he asks, not sounding like himself.

“I heard a noise.”

I sit and wait, not pushing him to talk. Eventually, the lock slides open and the door cracks, and one of his eyes peers out at me.

Whatever I was preparing myself for, it was not this.

I glimpse enough of him through the crack to realize that he has cut off most of his hair. It is now patchy and chunks are missing close to the scalp. He is holding scissors in his hand.

“Can I come in?” I ask him quietly.

The door opens wider, and I slip inside. The space is small, and I was right—it’s where the props are kept. Vero is sitting against the far wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, scissors in hand, and his face is wet from tears.

I sit down beside him, close enough that our shoulders are almost touching, and I look straight ahead at the opposite wall.

“I pull my hair,” he says, “when I get like this, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. I couldn’t stop pulling it, so I had to cut it off . . . I had to.”

“That makes sense,” I reply.