The Deceased

Chapter Eight -Secret

I slept over Jane's that night, without giving dad a chance to object through text. Something about going home to face him and his questions just didn't appeal to me. I decided that i needed to sit with Jane and figure this out.

I had all my questions planned over and over again in my head, ready for answers, and i'm sure Jane did too. We were both so desperate for answers.

Somehow, when we sat on her bed, we both had nothing to say. It was clear what happened, we were there, and the only questions we both had were something no one could answer.

That night i was sure i would dream about what Jane and i saw. I kept thinking we should have looked harder. He could still be in there, hurt, alive, dead, scared. I still don't like him, but he doesn't deserve this.

I assume Jane didn't sleep either, because by the time the sun finally shone through the window above her bed, we both sat up slowly. Even though she didn't sleep, Jane's hair was parted at the back of her head, messy. A small smudge of mascara covered the bags under her eyes. She turns to me and groans.

"How do you still look that good when you wake up?"

"I didn't sleep," i reply, "i thought you didn't either."

She shakes her head tiredly, "i did eventually."
Cross-legged, she sits facing me, reaching out quickly and resting her sweaty palms on the tips of my fingers. "I can't stop thinking about what happened last night. Valerie, i made fun of him so much, what if he died thinking i hated him? We hardy ever hung out with him."

She covers her face with her hands, "god, i just wish things were different."

Consoling people usually freaks me out. I'm almost as bad at consoling as i am at saying thank you for gifts at Christmas, but it was written clear on her face that she was stressing out, more so every minute, and i really can't blame her. If we knew what happened to Jean, we could at least try to understand.

I turn my hands upside down and grab hers, giving a warm smile, waiting until she looks up at me.

"We don't know anything yet," i tell her, "he could have gotten himself lost, hurt, and he could be home right now, safe."

That makes her perk up. She lets go of my hand and almost belly flops on me to reach her phone. "Lets find out."

I could have shot myself for not thinking of it sooner. Jean always has his phone on him. I wait for what feels like forever while Jane dials, and listens to it ring.

The muscles in her face drop and she lets the phone fall to the blankets, "something has definitely happened."

"Don't say that, Jane. We don't know anything. We should have called the Police."

"You were the one who wasn't in shock!" She raises her voice, "you were supposed to-"

"Jane," I say firmly, out of warning, raising my hand the slightest. She straightens up and lets out a long breath. I don't lose my shit often, but Jane knows when i'm about to. Yelling is so scarce for me that my voice breaks when i call someones name across the room, so i'm pretty sure if i started to yell, nothing but dust would come out.

Jane on the other hand, yells all the time. "I'm sorry, i'm just...Argh, i don't know what to do."

I walk over to her and tighten my lips, "before it gets too late, we need to tell the Police what we saw."

She wraps her arms around herself, "what if they think we did it? What excuse do we have for being in the forest where heaps of people get murdered?"

"Trying to find our friend is our excuse."

Worriedly, she shakes her head, unconvinced. "Valerie, i really don't know about this."