AN: Hope you are enjoying the story so far. Things are going to take a darker turn and get a bit more intense in this chapter.
TW: Underage drinking and recreational drug use.
The town of Beacon Hills was tense. Ever since the discovery of the body in the woods, a curfew had been imposed: no one under 18 was allowed outside after 9:30 p.m. Jamie found it laughable. As if locking kids indoors would stop whatever—or whoever—was responsible for the crime.
The week dragged on in a haze. Jamie was surviving, barely. School felt endless, her nightmares kept her from sleeping properly, and the tension at home made her want to scream. The only relief she found was through Tucker. She'd met up with him a couple of times during the week, each meeting in the shadowed corners of the ice-rink parking lot. Tucker had supplied her with a mixture of pills, enough to take the edge off her stress and help her make it through the endless hours.
It was Friday evening when Melissa cornered her in the kitchen. Jamie had just dropped her backpack on the floor when her mom turned from the stove, her expression unusually soft.
"Hey, kiddo," Melissa began, stirring a pot of something that smelled like overcooked pasta. "I wanted to talk to you."
Jamie tensed, wondering if this was about the stolen liquor bottle from earlier in the week. She turned to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water as she tried to appear nonchalant. "What's up?"
"I've moved my work schedule around," Melissa said tentatively, glancing at her with a hopeful smile. "So I can go to Scott's first lacrosse game tomorrow night. I think it would mean a lot if you came too."
Jamie's hand froze on the bottle cap. "No way."
Melissa's face fell, her disappointment as palpable as a slap. "Jamie, I know things have been hard between you two lately, but Scott—he's trying so hard. He'd want you there."
Jamie rolled her eyes. "Scott doesn't care if I'm there or not."
"I care," Melissa said quietly, setting down her spoon. "I miss seeing you both together. Please?"
Jamie hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. Melissa's expression was painfully earnest, and as much as she wanted to push back, she couldn't stand seeing her mom look so defeated.
"Fine," Jamie muttered. "I'll go. But I'm not promising to enjoy it."
Melissa's smile returned, small but genuine. "That's all I ask," she said, hopeful she was getting a piece of her daughter back.
Saturday evening arrived too quickly, and Jamie found herself at the lacrosse field, surrounded by students, parents, and the overwhelming noise of cheers and whistles. She stuck to the fringes, her hood up and her arms crossed as she watched the game unfold.
Scott was on fire. Even Jamie couldn't deny that he was playing like a man possessed, darting across the field with a speed and precision that had the crowd on their feet. She spotted Allison Argent sitting with Lydia and a few other girls, her excitement evident as she cheered for Scott.
During halftime, Allison approached Jamie, her warm smile disarming.
"Hey, Jamie," Allison said, adjusting her scarf against the cool evening breeze.
"Hey," Jamie replied flatly, glancing over her shoulder as if searching for an escape route.
"Scott's playing really well tonight," Allison continued, undeterred by Jamie's lack of enthusiasm.
"Yeah," Jamie said. "Guess so."
Allison shifted awkwardly. "You know, I've been meaning to—"
"I gotta go," Jamie interrupted, forcing a smile. "Catch you later."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked off, ignoring the pang of guilt as Allison watched her leave.
She spent the rest of the game behind the school, smoking what was left of her packet of cigarettes. After the game, the players and students flocked to Danny's house for an after-party. Melissa, in a rare gesture of leniency, allowed Jamie to go.
"No drinking," Melissa warned, her stern gaze pinning Jamie in place as she handed over the car keys.
"Yeah, yeah," Jamie replied dismissively, shoving the keys into her pocket. Melissa narrowed her eyes at her child, considering her response, before holding her hand out.
"Give those back," she demanded. Jamie rolled her eyes, scoffing as she pulled the keys out and handing them back over. "I changed my mind."
Danny's house was packed, music thumping through the walls as the crowd spilled onto the lawn. Having snagged a lift from one of the lacrosse players, Jamie made her way inside the house, weaving through clusters of students until she found Jackson in the living room, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand.
"Hey," she said, sliding up beside him.
Jackson looked at her briefly, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable. "Hey."
"You okay?" Jamie asked, grabbing a cup from a nearby table and pouring herself a drink.
Jackson shrugged. "Just tired."
Jamie took a sip, the burn of cheap liquor barely registering. "Lacrosse game seemed to go well. You were great."
Jackson let out a humourless laugh. "Yeah, sure."
There was something off about him, but when Jamie pressed, he waved her off.
"Where's Lydia?" Jamie asked, finding her lack of presence puzzling.
"She's having dinner with her dad tonight," he muttered, downing the rest of his drink.
Jamie's own nerves were starting to fray. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small bag Tucker had given her earlier in the week. Popping a pill into her mouth, she chased it with another swig of her drink.
"What the hell was that?" Jackson snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Jamie bristled, her defensive walls snapping into place. "Relax. It's not like you're a saint. You're drinking too." He huffed, his tone laced with disapproval. "Why do you care anyway?" she shot back.
Jackson didn't answer, his jaw tightening as he looked away. The stood in silence side by side, each surveying the room of beer-fuelled teenagers chatting and dancing.
Jamie glanced sideways at Jackson, noting the tension in his clenched jaw and the way he fiddled with his empty cup. The silence between them was heavy, and the buzz of the party around them only made it more suffocating. She was itching for something—anything—to break the stalemate.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his arm.
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Let's dance," Jamie said, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.
Jackson scoffed, pulling his arm away. "Yeah, no. Not happening."
"Why not?" Jamie pressed, stepping in front of him to block his view of the room. "It's a party. You're supposed to have fun."
Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped forward, letting Jamie pull him into the crowd of partygoers. She grinned at him, noticing a small smile of his own tugging at his lips.
They danced through a couple of songs, Jamie's hands around Jackson's neck, his hands on her waist. She pulled him closer as the music went on, and Jackson didn't seem to mind their proximity. The room around them blurred into a whirl of lights and noise, and Jamie found herself caught in the moment, the stress of the last week momentarily forgotten.
As the music slowed slightly, Jamie looked up at Jackson, her heart racing for reasons she didn't entirely understand. His face was close, his expression unreadable again, but his eyes met hers and lingered.
Without thinking, Jamie leaned in.
"Jamie," Jackson warned, his voice low, but she ignored him, her lips brushing his.
Jackson pulled back immediately, his hands on her shoulders to stop her. "What are you doing?"
Jamie's cheeks burned as reality crashed down around her. "I—"
"Don't," Jackson said, his tone firm. "You're drunk. And high. And whatever this is... it's not happening."
Humiliation clawed at Jamie's throat. She stepped back, her movements jerky and unsteady. She blinked rapidly as her eyes stung, her gaze fixed on the ground. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't see the rejection on his face.
He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Shit, Jamie, I didn't -."
But she didn't wait to hear the rest. She turned and pushed through the crowd, ignoring the voices calling her name. She stumbled out into the cool night air, the tears she'd been holding back spilling freely now. Her chest ached, and her mind raced with a mix of embarrassment, anger, and something she couldn't quite name. She just needed to get away, to escape the mess she'd made.
Jamie woke to the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating against her nightstand, cutting through the haze of her splitting headache. Groaning, she rolled over, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. The early morning light filtering through her curtains was far too bright, and her stomach churned at the thought of facing the day.
Reaching blindly, she grabbed her phone and squinted at the screen. Five missed calls. Four texts. All from Jackson.
Her heart sank. The memory of the night before flooded back—the dancing, the drinks, and the kiss. Or rather, the kiss that wasn't. Jamie's face burned with embarrassment, and she groaned into her pillow.
She opened the messages, her chest tightening as she read them:
Hey, can we talk?
Jamie, just call me back.
Please don't ignore me.
The most recent one, sent just twenty minutes ago, was shorter but somehow carried more weight:
Please.
Jamie tossed the phone onto the bed, letting it land with a soft thud. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter. She didn't want to talk to Jackson. Not now. Maybe not ever.
She couldn't bear the idea of facing him, let alone rehashing what had happened. He had made it clear—they weren't happening. She was just a friend, and even that felt like it was hanging by a thread after last night.
Jamie rubbed at her eyes, trying to push away the stinging sensation building there. "Nope," she whispered harshly. "Not doing this."
She picked up her phone again, her thumb hovering over Jackson's name. For a brief moment, she considered calling him back, maybe just to clear the air. But then her pride kicked in, along with a wave of anger—at herself for being so stupid and at him for rejecting her so effortlessly.
Instead, she pressed the side button, letting the screen go dark.
Sliding off the bed, she made her way to the bathroom, determined to push the whole thing out of her mind. She splashed cold water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her cheeks mascara stained.
"You're fine," she told herself firmly, gripping the edge of the sink. "It's fine. He's just a guy."
But even as she said it, she felt the crack in her resolve. Jackson had Lydia, and Jamie was nothing more than a friend. Last night had only cemented that.
Returning to her room, she grabbed her phone again, half expecting another message from him. But the screen was blank. A part of her felt relief; the other part hurt more than she wanted to admit.
She would push him out of her mind. She'd bury whatever feelings she'd been holding onto for him and pretend they'd never existed in the first place. She wasn't even fully sure where they'd come from, or if they every truly existed.
Jamie tossed her phone onto the desk and sat on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. The resolve felt hollow, but it was all she had.
"Time to move on," she murmured, though the words didn't bring the comfort she'd hoped for.
Jamie's next shift at the ice-rink that afternoon came and went. The only good thing to come of it was that she'd managed to lift some more cash from the register, this time without Boyd noticing.
She tugged her jacket tighter around her as she stepped out of the ice rink, her breath fogging in the chilly air. Her shift had dragged on, and she was exhausted, the thought of school and having the face Jackson the next day causing her mind to ache. She crossed the parking lot, heading into the night in the direction of home.
The darkness of the night surrounded her, and as she walked, she could feel the anxiety starting to creep in. She pushed it down, pulling out a cigarette and taking a long drag as she quickened her pace.
A grumble of a car behind her caused her heartbeat to accelerate. It seemed to accelerate too, catching up to her and causing her to gasp.
"Hey trouble," a voice said from within. She sighed. Tucker's beat-up car slowed to a stop, windows slightly fogged. She took a breath, calming herself silently before she spoke.
"You stalking me or something?" she asked, raising a brow. He grinned at her, his teeth catching the dim light from the overhead lamp.
"Rough day?" he asked, nodding towards the cigarette between her fingers.
"You could say that," Jamie replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Her heart was still racing, but she didn't know if it was from the anxiety before, or the anticipation she felt now.
"I could probably help with that," he smirked, leaning across and popping open the passenger door. Jamie hesitated for a moment before walking over, pulling the door wide and sliding into the car beside him.
The car sped off. Jamie was unsure where he was taking her, but in the moment she didn't really care. All she'd thought about since her encounter with Jackson was how she was next going to be able to take her mind off it.
They drove in silence for a few more minutes and Jamie realised they were heading into the preserve. The car stopped once they were out of sight of the main road and Tucker turned off the engine. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bag of powder, holding it up with a smug look. "This will take the edge off."
Jamie hesitated as she eyed the powder. This wasn't just pills or cigarettes. It all seemed a bit too fast a bit too quick.
"What is it?" she asked tentatively. He chuckled.
"You'll like it," he said, a knowing look crossing his face. He caught her eye. "Trust me."
Jamie let out a breath.
"How much?" she questioned. Tucker sat back in his seat.
"Look I just wanna have a good time tonight," he replied. "Don't worry about it."
Jamie nodded, glancing at the small bag again before nodding. "Okay, let's do it." He grinned back at her.
Tucker set up the lines on a small mirror he pulled from the glove compartment, handing her a rolled-up bill. She didn't think twice as she leaned down, the sharp sting of the drug hitting her nose and spreading like fire through her veins.
The rush came quickly, a wave of euphoria washing over her and pushing away the weight of the day. She leaned back against the seat, her head spinning as Tucker snorted his own line.
He looked over at her, his grin widening. "Feeling better?"
Jamie nodded, her body humming with the high. She turned to face him, her inhibitions fading. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jamie felt her heart racing, her head a mix of swirling sensations—some pleasant, some disorienting. Tucker leaned in closer, his smirk growing as he watched her sink into the drug's effects. His hand grazed her knee, and for a moment, Jamie didn't react, her mind too clouded to process much beyond the haze.
"You're something else, you know that?" Tucker said, his voice low and smooth. His hand slid further up her leg, and this time, Jamie flinched.
"What are you doing," she murmured, shifting away slightly.
"Just thought you might wanna have some fun," he responded.
Jamie's heart raced, but not with excitement—more like the restlessness of wanting to escape. The high was hitting its peak, the euphoria washing over her like a warm tide. Tucker's hand on her knee felt like a welcome distraction, grounding her in the moment. She leaned closer, her head spinning just enough to forget about everything else.
"You look good tonight, Jamie," Tucker said, his voice smooth, a little more intense than before.
She didn't know how to respond. She wasn't sure if she cared enough to—his attention felt nice, and she knew she could use the distraction.
Tucker leaned in and kissed her, his lips firm and insistent. Jamie kissed him back, her mind swirling in the fog of the drug, the kiss almost like a comfort, even if she didn't feel all that much for him beyond the brief relief he offered.
When his hand slid from her knee to her waist, it didn't feel wrong—not yet. She could feel the familiar buzz in her chest, the warmth spreading. But then his hand pressed against the soft fabric of her jacket, and his fingers dug into her side, brushing against something she had been trying to forget for a long time.
"What's this?" Tucker's voice dropped a little, sounding intrigued, almost too casual as his hand lingered on her waist.
Jamie's chest tightened. She froze, her body stiffening against him. It didn't take long for the panic to flood in—just a slight pressure against her skin, and suddenly, the memories came rushing back. Her breath hitched, but she didn't want to show it.
"Nothing," she said too quickly, her voice shaking. She tried to pull away, but he wasn't letting go.
Tucker chuckled, his fingers pressing just a little harder, like he was getting a kick out of her discomfort. "What is this? You tryin' to hide it from me?" He smirked, his hand moving under her jacket now, brushing against the jagged marks in her skin.
Jamie flinched, heart pounding as her hand instinctively covered the spot. She couldn't let him see it. Not him. Not anyone.
"Stop," she hissed, trying to push him away.
He leaned back a little, but the smug grin on his face didn't waver. "Hey, relax. I'm just curious. Don't act like you don't want me to touch you," he said with a mocking tone.
Jamie felt her insides churn as the panic took its hold. She had wanted the distraction, had wanted to forget, but now she just felt trapped. His hand was still on her waist, and the memories of that night suddenly consumed her – the blinding headlights, the slick, sodden mud beneath her, the looming figure above, the knife in his hand…
She could feel the old wounds burning as though they were fresh again, and she could hardly breathe.
"I'm fine," she spat out, voice cracking. "It's nothing." Her voice wavered as she tried to force a calm facade.
Tucker, noticing her reaction, leaned back again, his grin dropping. "Relax. Like I said, just curious," he said, as if testing her. "Hey." His voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his eyes locking with hers. "You're safe, alright?"
For a moment, Jamie thought she might break down. Safe? How could she feel safe when every inch of her body was telling her to run, to get out as quickly as possible.
But then she remembered why she was here in the first place. The high. The numbness. The escape. She could feel the drug still lingering in her veins, but it wasn't enough. She needed more.
Tucker's voice broke through her thoughts. "You still feelin' good?" His tone was casual, almost too casual. Then, as if reading her thoughts, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another small bag of powder.
"Here," he said, holding it up with a lazy smirk. "This'll make you feel better. Trust me." He repeated the same words again as if they were his catchphrase. His eyes gleamed as he waved the bag in front of her, offering her another hit.
Jamie hesitated, her eyes locked on the bag in his hand. She knew what this was, knew what it would do to her. But she also knew that the ache in her chest, the panic, the memories, Jackson—it wasn't something she could deal with right now. It wasn't something she could handle sober.
The urge to numb herself was overwhelming. Desperate. She reached out, taking the bag from his hand. She didn't look at him, just ripped it open with trembling fingers.
Tucker grinned, watching her with a mix of amusement and something darker, something she couldn't quite place. "You sure you want this, Jamie?" he asked, as if it were someone else who'd offered it.
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her mind was already set.
Jamie poured the powder onto the small mirror he handed her, her hands moving automatically as she grabbed the rolled-up bill. She took the line without hesitation.
The rush was immediate. Warmth spread through her, blanketing her thoughts, soothing the gnawing tension in her chest. The anxiety, the panic, the shame—it all melted away, replaced by a familiar numbness.
Her vision blurred, but it felt good. It felt like a relief. She leaned back in the seat, letting the euphoria take over as the world around her seemed to dull. Tucker was still watching her, his eyes glinting with something she couldn't decipher, but she didn't care.
Jamie turned her head toward him, the drug pushing her forward without thinking. She kissed him, a desperate kiss that she didn't quite feel but didn't want to stop. His hands were on her again, and she didn't pull away. This was what she needed. This was what she wanted.
But as his hand moved over her waist again, she tensed. The scarred skin beneath his touch sent a sharp reminder to her brain, making her flinch, even in the haze of the high.
Tucker pulled back, a laugh escaping him. "You okay?" he asked, still holding her close.
Jamie's breath came in short bursts as she nodded, trying to push the panic back down. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. Not right now. Not while the drug still had its grip on her.
She kissed him again, more forcefully this time, her hands gripping the back of his neck. The warmth of the high, the urgency of the kiss—it all mixed together in a blur. She didn't care anymore.
Tucker pulled away just enough to grin at her. "That's the way to do it."
Jamie didn't respond. Her mind was already elsewhere, floating in the daze of the drug. Everything else could wait.