28. Too Good To Be True

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Within hours, Tom is arrested. Taken in for questioning. And charged.

It's a relief to know there's no longer a killer on the loose and I'll admit, knowing Elliot and I are the ones who helped make that happen feels fucking fantastic. People treat us like royalty. They sing our praises everywhere we go. Thank us as they pass by. They even offer to buy us a drink–which, we of course deny–but still.

Things are normal again and I allow myself the luxury of engaging in normal things as a reward.

This morning, Chloe insisted dress shopping was of utmost importance with prom fast approaching and so–here I am–trying on a mountain of dresses in Oak Valley's only boutique–Amore.

"Red would look killer on you, Helena," states Chloe, gesturing towards a rather daring dress.

I stare at the silk number, an unsettling feeling rooting itself deep into my stomach. "Can we not use words like 'killer' when describing how I might look."

Jasmine giggles. "Why? With Tom behind bars, the town know you're innocent."

Hmm.

"Even so..."

"Fine," sighs Chloe, draping the dress along my shoulders. "You'd look sexy in red. Try it on."

I oblige, rather liking the colour. It's not my usual style but who's to say that's a bad thing? Maybe now is the time to try something  different. Especially with Elliot on the receiving end of things.

"Does it look good?" asks Jasmine, shouting over the curtain separating us.

"It's...flattering."

I emerge from the dressing room, dubious of their expressionless faces.

"What?"

"You have to get it," declares Chloe. "You look..."

"Killer?" I mock, running my fingers along the slit.

It almost runs the entire length of my leg, stopping just before the groin. The material gathers at my toes, its glossy finish shimmering in the store's lighting. A deep shade. Flirtatious.

"Sexy," offers Jasmine.

I check the price tag. "It's on sale."

"Even better," replies Chloe, pushing me aside and stepping into the changing area with various options. "Now, help me find my perfect dress."

Having snagged the first gown she tried on, Jasmine is now in the position to focus her attention on Chloe. And what better way to provide than to holler abuse over the curtain. "Don't be so picky and you might actually find one you like."

"I'm not picky," she counters, gifting us a glimpse of her satin underwear by creating a crack in the curtain. "I slept with Elliot, remember?"

I splutter. "And? He's a damn catch."

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Never had you down for someone's sloppy seconds. That's all."

Jasmine smirks.

"I'm not sloppy seconds," I insist. "He was with Jasmine before you. So, technically, you were sloppy seconds."

"And what?" she asks. "You're simply helping yourself to generous thirds?"

"You betcha," I reply, hooking my finger in the elastic of her panties and pinging her skin by letting go.

"Ouch!"

"You deserved that," offers Jasmine, smiling.

Chloe smirks and pulls back the curtain, once again separating us. "Lena knows I'm only joking."

Jas and I share a glance, amused by her need to use my shortened name. I guess it means that although strained at first, Chloe and I are one step closer to establishing a friendship. Of liking each other.

"Elliot's a good guy. And a great kisser." She sticks her head through the small gap again. "Right, Jas?"

I flick her on the forehead.

"Ouch again!"

I shove her face back behind the curtain and pick out a necklace, holding it to my neck. Its onyx stone is an endless abyss, a reminder of Elliot's hair. I'm about to try it on when the entrance bell chimes, followed by my name being screeched.

"I fucking hate you!" yells Francesca. "You've ruined my life, you bitch!"

Whoa!

For a split second, I'm too stunned to say or do anything.

"Calm down!" soothes Jasmin, positioning herself in between us.

Francesca does the exact opposite of calming down.

"How can you live with yourself?"

"My intention was never to hurt you," I protest. "Tom is guilty."

"If he's guilty, how do you explain this?" she demands, shoving her cell phone in my face.

Staring back at me is a selfie of them both, dated on the night of Chad's death.

"He was with me all night," she insists.

"Spoken like a true victim," offers Chloe, coming to my rescue in her purple frock. "How do we know you're not in on it too?"

"Chloe," I warn, sensing Francesca's fragile state of mind.

"You're underage," she presses. "Your relationship with Tom is abuse."

Francesca pales.

"Helena didn't ruin your life. She saved it. So, instead of running your mouth off, maybe show some gratitude."

"Gratitude?" she snarls, throwing daggers her way. "Says the whore who wouldn't know gratitude if it slapped her in the face."

"What did you just call me?"

I instinctively wedge myself between the two.

"Your best friend wasn't even cold when you jumped into her boyfriend's bed," she continues, argumentative as ever. "Don't offer me advice on my love-life when your own is in tatters."

Chloe lunges for her, incapable of rationality. "You bitch!"

Jasmine and I fight to separate the two.

"Walk away, Francesca," I intervene, pleading with the store assistant to respectfully ignore our conversation. "I understand you're upset. But you have no right showing up here and saying stuff that doesn't concern you."

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, remembering that I'm still wearing my soon-to-be-prom dress. The red silk. The plunging neckline. The sexy slit. All of it now tainted by Francesca's arrival.

"If this photo is real, take it to the police," I suggest, calling her bluff.

I know a photoshop job when I see one.

"If Tom is innocent, this'll prove it."

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I shouldn't have to. I thought you were one of the good ones, Helena."

I'm shocked by her retort. Hurt even. Everything I've done, I've done with everyone's best interests at heart. And what do I get in return? Fucking this!

"I am," I insist, pointing towards Tom's smiling face on her cell. "Ask yourself, is he?"

With that, I walk away, refusing to humour her accusation. I won't be made to feel guilty for bringing Tom to justice. What Elliot and I did was heroic. Now, Oak Valley can sleep a night, rest assured that no more murders will take place.  We stopped whatever vindictive game Tom was playing.

And Francesca can argue all she wants but it won't change my perspective on things.

Tom is a murderer.

A psychopath.

There's no way we got the wrong guy.

Right?

****

With over ten chapters left, I'mma go ahead and say WRONG!

;)

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net