She Lied She Died by Carissa Lynch (book recommendations for young adults txt) 📕

picture fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Holding my mouth so I wouldn’t scream and alert Delaney, I tiptoed like a demented ballerina, back over to the edge of the bed.

I pulled on the light string, lighting up the room to see him better.

I bit down on my fingers, muffling the terror that threatened to burst from within me…

The stranger’s face looked peaceful enough: eyes and mouth closed; hands flat at his sides. But he was rigid, too rigid … almost like he was laying inside a casket instead of my bed.

It might as well be a casket…

Because he’s dead as fuck, I realized in horror.

I bit down harder, my body trembling in fear.

I moved in as close as I dared, nervously studying his wound. It was a hole above his belly button, jagged and red, with a dry purple stain blooming out like a flower around it. Dry streaks of blood stained both sides of his waist from where he’d bled out in the bed beside me.

The sheet beneath him was stained dark red with blood, so red it was almost purple.

So much blood!

It had probably soaked all the way through the mattress and box springs. There was blood on my side too. Realization sinking in, I looked down at my own blue nightdress.

No way would I have let a man see me in this old, worn-out gown. So, why am I wearing it? Nothing about this makes sense.

How the hell did he get here? And who the fuck is he?!

Tentatively, I dabbed at a big, crusty stain on the side of my gown. The color of the gown was too dark to tell, but I knew without a doubt it was blood.

His blood.

He’d been bleeding in the bed beside me … and I’d had no idea.

Vomit tickled the back of my throat, hot and acrid.

How the hell did he get here in the first place?

And, most importantly, how did he wind up dead?

The One Night Stand: Chapter 2

NOW

Delaney had no idea that there was a dead man in my bed – not just dead, murdered. I’d changed my clothes, locked my bedroom door behind me, and gone to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

And when Delaney woke up at 7am for school, I was standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in my hands, a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table for her.

Most mornings were chaotic, me getting ready for work, both of us rushing out the door at the same time. But everything about today was different.

I have a feeling life will be very different from now on.

“I take it you’re not going to work?” Delaney said, shuffling into the kitchen. She had on a thick black hoodie and fashionably ripped jeans, even though it was supposed to be a warm day for fall. I fought the impulse to ask her to go change. She wasn’t ten anymore – I couldn’t pick out her clothing, as much as I would have liked to.

“I’m going in late today because I have an important meeting in the afternoon. So, my schedule is a little different.” The lie flowed from my tongue like honey.

I wasn’t scheduled to work late; in fact, I’d left a shaky message for my boss telling him I had a stomach virus, which isn’t completely a lie.

Finding a murdered man in your bed does have the tendency to make you a little queasy…

But I’d already missed a couple days recently; not only could I not afford another day off, but my job could be on the line.

“Right. So, ya gonna tell me who he is, or not?” Delaney demanded, globs of oatmeal swishing around her mouth as she talked. She lifted her cup of juice to her stained red lips, glanced down into the cup with a look of disgust, then slammed it back down.

I wonder what they serve for breakfast at Michael’s house, I thought, drearily. Probably crepes and chocolate-chip waffles … made from scratch by Wife #2, of course.

I took a seat in the chair across from her. “He’s just a friend, honey.”

My voice was so calm, so smooth… I almost didn’t recognize it.

“What—the fuck—ever.” Delaney pushed the chair back with a caw-like screech, and I winced.

“Please don’t talk to me that way. I’m a grown woman and I’m allowed to date if I want to. Your father has certainly moved on.”

Instantly, I regretted bringing Michael and Samantha into this.

Delaney left the kitchen without another word.

I heard the jangling of her backpack slipping over her shoulders in the hall, and seconds later, the screen door thumped shut behind her. There were days when the closest I came to understanding my daughter was trying to interpret the shuffle of her feet and the velocity with which she closed her bedroom door.

I remained at the table, clutching my cup of coffee. I heard the squeaky air brakes of the bus pulling up outside. I closed my eyes, waiting for the bus to get all the way to the end of the road before I moved.

When I couldn’t hear it anymore, I stood up.

Finally, I could allow myself to be shaky and afraid.

How could I be so stupid? And what am I going to do?

Obviously, I hadn’t killed the man. I didn’t have a violent bone in my body.

But that hasn’t always been the case, has it? I scolded myself.

Is it possible? Could I have blacked out and hurt someone?

But that red-rose hole in his stomach… It looked like a knife wound, a deep one that took a lot of strength. And anger.

I shuddered.

And if he were mentally unstable, why would he choose to take his own life in a strange woman’s bed after sex, and why would he do it that way…?

And I hadn’t seen a weapon… If he’d done it to himself, there would be a weapon…

“Holy shit. What am I going to do?” I said aloud, the fear in my voice