Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Emily Kazmierski (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

something I have to ask you,” she says finally, putting her silverware down and pushing her plate back. “Did you know an Anderson family? Maybe from that summer camp you used to go to?”

I go completely still. Suddenly Aunt Karen’s hesitance to eat and her somber manner make sense. She was trying to figure out how to deliver the death blow to my day. Because the Andersons? They were friends of mine from camp. We spent long hours swimming in the lake, paddling around in plastic kayaks, and hiking through the woods. They were friends of mine.

My throat clenches. The only reason she’d be asking me about them right now, this moment, is if something catastrophic happened to them. When I look up at Aunt Karen, the sympathetic curve of her eyes tells me everything.

I know which family was ripped apart this morning. The Anderson kids’ lives are damaged beyond repair, just like mine. Water wells in my eyes, making my guardian’s sad smile blurry.

“I got a call a couple of hours ago. They thought you should know, but you can’t tell anyone. Do you understand?”

I nod, struck silent by the heavy weight on my sternum. Nate and Kate, I’m so, so incredibly sorry.

“You okay?”

It’s a stupid question, so I don’t answer.

“I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you take your new flowers up to your room?”

“I don’t want them anymore.”

“You texted me asking me to buy them not two hours ago.”

“That was two hours ago.”

Why should I even bother trying to move on with my life, having any hobbies or passions when they could all be torn away from me at a moment’s notice? And flowers, of all things? They’re beautiful, but so fleeting. So mortal.

“I’ll leave them in the window behind the sink, in case you change your mind.”

Once, I left one of my orchids in the back window of my mom’s car by accident, and by the time I remembered it, it was completely singed. The leaves had bubbled up in shades of yellow and black. The whole thing crumbled the next day, no matter how much water I gave it to drink. It had already been marked for death.

I stare down at the orchids’ petals, wondering if the healthy parts of me have been burned too, until they’re so destroyed by the searing pain that they’re not salvageable. Maybe I’ll live the rest of my life like a leafless orchid. Unable to thrive and grow and flower, even under ideal conditions. My eyes fall to Aunt Karen’s hand, still outstretched over the table. If I was even in the ideal conditions.

“I think there are some grow lights in the garage if you’d rather.”

“No thanks. Why would there be grow lights in the garage?” I ask over my shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure one of my cousins was growing weed in there at some point.” Aunt Karen winks. “It’s worth a look.”

“Maybe later.” I scoop up a few of the plants and carry them gingerly to the living room where I’ve left the rough-cut lightbox I made this afternoon. I may be a burned-out shell of what I used to be, but I can still fulfill my part of the project I’m doing with Noah. All I need is a few more photos in specific colors.

As I position the plants and take photo after photo with my phone, I can’t keep my mind from wandering back to the Mayday Killer. What motivates him to keep killing? Take more lives? Why not find a cabin in the woods and hide out where he’ll never be found? He could read a thousand books, grow a garden, live out his days in peace. It would be an act of compassion, one I’m not sure he’s capable of.

Instead, he continues to hunt and kill. This time striking a family I knew. It’s unfathomable. My chest tightens painfully as I imagine what it was like for Nate and Kate to walk into the house sweaty from a soccer game in the park, laughing and talking trash. I imagine them halting in the hallway as a strong, salty scent hits their noses. The questioning glances they give each other as they move deeper into the house. The way grief engulfs them like flies in a Venus fly trap when they discover the killer’s handiwork.

Sucking in a few quick breaths to expel the evil images, I try to focus on my project. It’s innocuous enough to keep my thoughts shallow, where it’s safer. Sitting back on my heels, I scroll through my photos. I’ve got some good ones that I think Mr. Baugh will like. And there are a couple that will look great on my social feed.

Chapter 16

Day 123, Thursday

Gingerly, I pull the poster board out of the back of Aunt Karen’s car, frowning at the bend in one corner. It was perfectly straight when I loaded it. The imperfection will have to do. An audible sigh escapes me as I slide my backpack onto my shoulders. Aunt Karen eyes the pink and orange dress I’m wearing—it’s a louder print than most of the clothes she bought for me—but doesn’t say anything. The tightness around her mouth is enough of an indication of her displeasure at my clothing choices.

I don’t know if she expected me to change once I picked up on her displeasure, but I wasn’t about to do that. I’m tired of all the drab, neutral colors that make up most of my new wardrobe. A little splash of color was warranted. Welcome to parenting teenage girls, Aunt Karen. Maybe someday we’ll even get into a fight about my post high-school goals, just like my mom and I used to do.

Because apparently taking a gap year to pursue my dream is not a valuable use of my time. So few people make it in the industry, she’d said. As if I didn’t already know.

I sniff, remembering the way Mom’s eyes would crease as she tried to convince me that taking a gap year would