Page 94 of Ash and Poison

“Here. Go right.”

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, mingling with the faint tang of decay from the underbrush. Sunlight cut through the dense canopy overhead, creating patches of light on the forest floor, fighting against the darkness.

“We used to come here when I was little, with Riley’s family. My mom would make cheese sandwiches, and Riley’s mom would make chocolate pudding. Riley and I, we used to play here.”

I almost stumbled and fell when I heard Asher’s voice, soft and reminiscing. I missed my mother and father. I was eleven when they both died. I could still vaguely recollect the sounds of distorted conversations and laughter. My mother and father loved me very much, until…

I remembered his voice, soft and kind, reading me stories. I remembered her laughter, the curve of her smile, the way she talked with the plants she grew in her garden. I loved them, and they loved me.

After that, I moved from foster home to foster home, until I ended up with Martha and Max, and met Layne and Trina. It was hell, but it wasn’t a complete hell. My sisters were like an oasis in a burning desert.

“What? You look surprised. I wasn’t always a monster, you know. I had a mother too.”

“You aren’t a monster now,” I whispered, turning to look at him. “What was she like?”

“She’d have loved you, Diya Sharma. She had always been strong, loyal, and kind.”

“I’m sure she’d have hated me if she had met me.”

“No. You’re brave, strong, loyal. You want to save her son, and that alone would have been enough for her to love you.”

There was no deception in his eyes. Only the truth. I wondered how our lives would have been, had my parents lived, had his mother lived… had Riley lived.

“Oh, yes, you’re also stubborn, nosy, and murderous, but you’re amazing, Diya Sharma.”

“And you’re smooth as fuck, Maddox,” I said with a scoff as he took my hand in his, threading his fingers with mine.

We walked until we reached the stream.

“So, why is the park closed again?” I asked, looking around the vast place.

“Poachers, smugglers.”

We walked through the winding paths, following the stream.

Tall trees swallowed the sunlight, bathing the place in darkness, burying the sins, and providing shelter for the sinners.

“It would have been easier for him to do what he did after the park became protected,” I said, studying the woods that stretched before us. “Fuck. I was fucking right.”

“What is it?” Asher asked, turning toward me. “You okay?”

“I am,” I whispered, pulling out the folded paper from my bag. “Take a look at this,” I said, showing him Millie’s dark sketch.

“What am I looking at? The girl?” Asher asked, his eyes narrowed as he studied the faceless girl. I shook my head.

“No, the background. Do you notice this?” I pointed to the picture where a cabin was. It was almost hidden behind a tree, and a broken swing hung from a branch. “The cabin. I was right.”

“Oh,” he said, staring at the cottage.

I wished it wasn’t that, but I knew. Deep in my aching bones, I knew.

“Millie was the first victim,” I whispered, clenching the paper tighter in my hand. “I think she was.”

Asher glared at the picture as if he wished he could burn it, burn the evidence of the cruelty.

“Most serial killers prefer to do it alone,” I whispered. That was why this made no sense. “I can’t understand him. Why did he—”

Layne and I killed together sometimes, but we weren’t an organization.