To Save Her I Became the Monster Chapter 1

After my best friend was raped and took her own life, I covered for the man who did it.

Lily’s mother fell to her knees on my porch, her forehead hitting the worn wooden planks as she begged me, but I just shut the door. When the townsfolk came with torches and threats, I let my dog bite them.

Ten years later, on the verge of death, my other best friend, Sloane Davenport, came back. Now the richest self-made woman in the country, she returned with the righteous fury of a god. The first thing she did was drag me to the center of the Havenwood town square and strap me into the Memory Extractor, a machine typically reserved for death row inmates.

“Wren Bishop, you filth,” she spat, her voice broadcast across the square. “You protected a rapist. Lily and I were fools to ever call you our friend.” Her words were acid. “Lily’s been gone for ten years, and for ten years you let her killer walk free.”

Her eyes, once so warm, were now chips of ice. “Today, I’m going to use the technology I developed to see exactly who you’ve been protecting. We’re going to watch your memories, Wren. All of them.”

But when the killer’s face finally materialized on the massive screen behind us, Sloane’s own face went dead white.

* * *

The spectacle Sloane orchestrated was immense. The entire town of Havenwood was packed into the square, a suffocating sea of bodies. News crews had set up tripods and satellite trucks, their live feeds plastered across every major network.

I was half-dead already, my organs failing, kept alive by a drip of medications and nutritional fluids. They hauled me from the hospice van like a convicted felon and secured me to a steel chair on the stage.

A man lunged from the crowd, his hands closing around my throat. “Wren Bishop, why did you protect him?” he roared, his face purple with rage. “You animal! You ruined my family! Why don’t you just die!”

My vision swam in black spots as I choked for air. The crowd erupted, a wave of pure hatred.

“That’s her! The heartless bitch! Her friend gets raped, and she knows who did it but stays silent!”

“Her friend jumped in the river, and she wouldn’t even open the door for the poor girl’s mother! Let her break her head on the porch!”

“She even sicced her dog on people! She’s disgusting!”

The insults washed over me, a filthy tide.

Sloane stood to the side, her brow furrowed into a knot of cold fury. Besides Lily’s family, there was no one on earth who hated me more than her. Ten years ago, the three of us—me, Lily, and Sloane—were inseparable. After Lily was defiled in the woods near my house and drowned herself in the river, our bond shattered.

It was all because of Lily’s suicide note. A single sentence: Wren saw him.

I became an accomplice.

And the truth was, I had protected him.

Sloane approached me now, her voice devoid of any warmth. “Wren, I’m giving you one last chance. Name him now. Confess to the police. It’s not too late…”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a hiss. “But once I turn this machine on, the high-frequency pulses will make every bone in your body feel like it’s been ground to dust. There will be no more chances to save yourself.”

My face, already pale from sickness, lost its last trace of color. I thrashed against the restraints, my voice a raw croak. “Sloane, no! You can’t! You can’t see my memories!”

Sloane grabbed my hand, her grip like a vice. “Scared?” she sneered. “You don’t have a choice. I have to get justice for Lily.”

Tears streamed down my face as I begged her. “Sloane, please, listen to me. My memories can’t be made public. You’ll regret this!”

She let out a short, bitter laugh, her eyes bloodshot. “Regret? The only thing I regret is ever being your friend.”

Two of her security guards forced me back into the chair, the cold steel locking around my wrists and ankles. Ignoring my struggles, they slammed a heavy helmet onto my head. A thousand tiny needles pierced my scalp, sinking into my brain.

Pain, white-hot and absolute, seized me. My body convulsed, a scream tearing from my throat as my very soul felt like it was being ripped apart.

Even then, the crowd wasn’t satisfied. They hurled rotten vegetables and eggs at the stage, their curses relentless.

“Traitor! Backstabbing bitch! Go to hell!”

And on the giant screen, my memories began to rewind.

The first scene appeared before them all.