Bury Me(61)

“Something tells me this story is not going to end well,” Nolan comments with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the moment that has clearly descended into darkness.

I ignore him and continue.

“There were four men shackled down in the hole one night when it started to rain. It came down in buckets and before they knew it, the guards noticed the hole was starting to fill up with water. Someone needed to get the ladder and go down to remove the men, but it was late. They had families and needed to make the long ride home to check on them, make sure they were safe in the storm as it pounded down all around the prison. They argued. No one wanted to go down in the hole that was filling up faster and faster with rain bubbling up from the ground. The men were screaming, begging for someone to get them out. The guards turned, made their way upstairs, and eventually the screaming stopped. The next day when the storm had passed, they went downstairs and found the hole completely filled with water, but slowly starting to drain. Still, no one wanted to go down in the hole so they left the bodies down there and closed the door.”

Pulling open the door the rest of the way, I hold my breath in anticipation. There’s something in this room I need to see. Something I have to see. It pulls me forward, moves my feet without my help and calls to me.

“So they just left four dead bodies down here. Like, forever? No wonder people think this place is haunted. This has got to be everyone’s favorite part of the tour.”

I shake my head, moving the beam of the flashlight along the floor at my feet, toward the room.

“This isn’t part of the tour. No one is allowed in this room because my father thinks it’s too dangerous. He’s been wanting to have the hole filled in, but he hasn’t had the time.”

I finally aim the flashlight beam into the room and all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh when I see what’s in front of me as I continue moving inside the room until my feet are right at the edge.

A loud thunk sounds behind me and I jump, turning to see Nolan’s body fall to the side, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I cringe as his head smacks against the hard floor, my eyes slowly moving away from his unmoving form to the doorway.

With the dim light from the single bulb at the other end of the basement, I can only see a shadowed outline of the person standing in the doorway with a long, heavy piece of wood held in the air that I’m guessing is the cause of Nolan’s crumpled, unconscious body lying by my feet.

I don’t need a bright light to tell me who it is.

“My name is Ravenna Duskin. I’m eighteen years old, I live in a prison, and I’m going to make you see the truth.”





Chapter 21





“What did you do? Why would you hurt him like that?” I shout, quickly glancing down at Nolan to make sure he’s still alive.

Even after all the things I’ve learned about myself and how utterly insane I feel right at this moment as words and memories and pain and all the things I’ve blocked come rushing back, I still don’t want Nolan to actually die, no matter how many times I’ve fantasized about it.

I’m realizing right in this moment, as everything starts to finally fit together in my head, that Nolan is the only thing in my life that has ever made me feel calm and normal. I will never actually be normal, but he makes it easier to pretend, and I think I’m starting to like it.

Seeing the slow rise and fall of his chest allows me to expel the breath I was holding and I look back to the person in the doorway, aiming the beam of my flashlight in that direction.

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. It’s too much. I thought I could do it; I thought if I just acted like it never happened, I would forget, but I can’t. You’ve made it impossible for me to forget. Nolan already knows too much: if he finds out everything, it will all be over for both of us.”

My father sobs, his shoulders heaving as his arms drop and the board in his hands clatters to the ground. I watch him warily, having no idea what he’s talking about and not trusting him one bit. His arm reaches out to the side and he flips a switch I forgot was there, the small room suddenly exploding with light.

“There’s no point trying to go on with this charade any longer. It was a stupid idea and I should have known it wouldn’t work,” he tells me, his eyes darting around the room, refusing to look at me.

My frustration with him grows to epic proportions as he speaks to me with cryptic words—just like my mother did before she shot herself—instead of just spitting out what he needs to say.