Jayne Doe by jamie brook thompson

gun?” It's all I can think about, but she won't look at me. “Jillian, who has the gun?”
    The smile on her face is terrifying. The bright, glowing lamp on the desk reflects an image in her eyes. It’s a shiny, silver revolver.
    “I need you to tell me who has the gun. I can’t help you if won’t tell me.”
    Her cheeks fold under a wide grin. “You have it.” The image in her eyes changes.
    I'm holding the gun.
    The hammer is pulled back.
    My finger is on the trigger.
    I take my eyes off of Jillian and look down at my traitorous hands.
    It's there.
    Gripped in my hand. I gasp and drop the cold metal to the ground.
    It disappears.
    Jillian disappears.
    I’m outside in the woods again.
    I look up at the sky and close my eyes. Stephen, I need you. I stand there and hope he's listening. I can't do this on my own. Suddenly, I feel silly talking to someone who isn't there. Maybe he never really was. Maybe he doesn't exist. Maybe nothing does. I’m growing angry as I make my way home. When I get there, a car is parked in the driveway and it's not one I've ever seen before. The imprint of the gun is still in my hand, but I shake it off and run inside. Mom, Billy, Martha, and her dopey boyfriend are all crashed in the living room with the television on. An enthusiastic man on screen rambles on about some weight loss program.
    “I want to try that.” Beth’s familiar, friendly voice is out of place in our house.
    “You look great,” Jayne says, appearing behind her. “Don't waste your money.”
    Beth pulls open the front door and Martha stirs from the rush of cold air. Jayne waves her hands, trying to get out the door before waking anyone. They're going to pick up Jayne's truck.
    “What did your mom say?” Beth asks, sliding into the driver seat and turning the ignition.
    “She said it was my choice.” Jayne sighs and thumps her head against the headrest. “Though she made it very clear that we're too young to get married.”
    Beth chuckles. “She's right.”
    “It's a lot to think about, that's for sure.” Jayne falls silent for a moment and picks at the sleeve of her old sweatshirt. “Do you think it's strange that Jill's been gone for a week and I haven't properly mourned?” She bites her bottom lip. “Or at least I don't think I have. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to feel. I hate this.”
    Beth takes a hand from the steering wheel and pats Jayne awkwardly on the shoulder while trying to drive. “I'm so sorry.”
    “It's fine,” she says, swiping a hand across her cheek. “Life goes on. Isn't that what everyone keeps saying?” Jayne is refusing to cry, she searching her mind for something other than memories of me. Something that won’t hurt as much. “Beth, do you remember Casey?”
    “Casey?” The name isn't familiar.
    “Um, the gothic kid from the trailer park.”
    “Oh, yeah. He's a mortician now. Weirdo.”
    Jayne slumps from Beth's biting comment, but realizes that Beth never knew him. “Do you know where he lives?” Excitement burbles under her skin.
    “Why would I know where that kid lives?” She turns to look at Jayne and quickly stares at the road again. “Why are you asking me this?”
    “He, uh, has one of my school books.” Lie. “He took me home the other day and I left it in his car.”
    “Call him,” Beth says, taking a smooth turn onto Wall Avenue, a mile from the divide where Jayne’s truck is.
    “I don't have his number.” Jayne sighs and slumps into the seat.
    “Don't his parents live next to you?”
    Parents, She thinks. That’s right, his dad.
    “Get it tomorrow when everyone's awake. It's almost one in the morning.” Beth glances at the glowing red numbers from the clock on the dash.
    “Will you call his dad?” Jayne pleads.
    “Hell, no.” Beth laughs and Jayne's face drops slightly.
    “Come on. He'll recognize my number.”
    Beth's car climbs up the long hill. Jayne's truck is only a few feet away and Beth scans the area