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excerpt from my new book : Where Hellen Isn’t

Summer, 2013. One girl vanished. Then they found her body.

Now, her five closest friends are left with nothing but questions-and each other.

Allison can't stop thinking about Hellen.

Chaz is unraveling under secrets he's never said out loud.

Lyssa wants to believe things make sense. Mason isn't so sure anymore.

And Theo just wants the noise to stop.

They say there's something in the woods.

They say to move on.

But the truth doesn't stay quiet forever.

A haunting story about friendship, identity, and the way grief lingers like fog in the trees

~

Smoke unfurled from the cracked rear window like a whispered confession, slow and secretive. It dissolved into the sharp autumn dusk, curling into nothing before it could reach anyone's attention—not that anyone in this dead-end neighborhood gave a damn.

Allison sprawled across the middle seat of Chaz's rust-patched pickup, her knees bent up on the dash, a nearly spent joint pinched between two fingers. The sleeves of her hoodie swallowed her hands, that old hoodie she never gave back to Hellen. It still carried a trace of that strange blend—pine needles and cinnamon—and wearing it felt like walking beside a ghost who never asked for anything.

"Hand it over, Paul Bunyan," came Theo's voice, muffled through the back window. He sat cross-legged in the bed of the truck like a gremlin prince, pajama pants tucked beneath him, his bleach-blond hair catching fire in the last rays of sunlight.

Allison tilted her head, exhaling slow. "Not until you drop the damn nickname," she called, her voice loose with amusement.

"You felled *one* tree," Chaz muttered from behind the wheel, still scrolling on his phone. "Once. You're not building log cabins now."

"Dyke Bunyan," Theo added with glee, kicking the side of the truck for punctuation.

Even Chaz let out a short laugh, reluctant, the sound fraying at the edges. Allison smirked and raised a lazy middle finger toward the bed of the truck, smoke trailing from her lips like thread unraveling.

By the time they pulled up, Mason and Lyssa were already settled by the pit. Mason crouched near the kindling, coaxing fire from dry sticks with practiced hands—broad, steady, capable—like he'd been born into survival. Lyssa was perched nearby, small and rigid, tucked in like a bird ready to bolt, her pale hair catching the flicker of flame.

"Look who brought their roadside hotbox to the woods," Lyssa said, lifting her chin toward Chaz, eyes glinting with cold amusement.

"Didn't realize we were entertaining royalty tonight," Chaz muttered, his tone flat and sour.

The words sat between them like something rotten. Allison felt the sharp edge of it but didn't slice into it—not yet.

They peeled out of the truck one at a time—Theo jumping down barefoot, sticking the landing with theatrical flair, Chaz circling around to offer a mock bow before helping him down. Allison followed last, stretching her legs, the hem of her hoodie sliding down to bare one shoulder.

The clearing looked like it always had: a ring of half-rotted logs, the fire pit like a scar in the dirt, an old cooler bleeding rust beside it. Familiar in that haunted, hand-me-down way. Hellen had named it *The Hollow*, once. None of them could remember why.

Mason raised a brow. "Thought you weren't coming."

"Traffic," Chaz replied, a ghost of a smirk twitching at his mouth.

"From your driveway?" Lyssa asked, crossing her arms.

"Zip it," Allison cut in, pulling a crumpled joint from her back pocket like a magician pulling scarves. "Round two?"

Lyssa gave a polite shrug of disdain. Mason accepted without a word, holding it like it might break, inhaling deeply as if bracing against something invisible. His fingers shook slightly, betraying more than he'd admit.

They passed it around, each hit burning a little silence off the night. Conversation flickered like the fire—bright, sputtering, reluctant. No one said Hellen's name, but her absence coiled through the air, curling into the corners of their laughter like a vine creeping along a forgotten wall.

Theo collapsed beside Allison, his knees bouncing erratically. "If I tell the raccoon story again, someone hit me."

"Do it," Allison said, smiling faintly. "I wanna hear it."

"You always do."

"That's 'cause you keep improving it."

For a breath, the gloom lifted, carried off by the lightness of their voices. Across the fire, Chaz didn't laugh. His stare burned into the flames, posture rigid, hands jammed deep in his jacket like he was trying to disappear into himself.

Allison leaned back, palms flat in the dirt, letting the sky blur above her. Smoke drifted through the trees, dissolving into the twisted canopy. Hellen used to say the forest had faces. That the branches remembered things. Allison didn't believe it then, but tonight, she wasn't sure.

Chaz's silence weighed more than words. It was the kind that filled a room, not emptied it. Allison watched him—noticed the glances he kept stealing toward Theo, quick and tight-lipped, like shame had claws.

Theo didn't seem to notice. He tapped a rhythm into his thighs, head tilted toward the fire like it was telling him secrets.

Lyssa was quieter than usual. No jabs, no strange commentary about moths or graveyards. Just silence, curled in her lap like a pet.

Allison's mind floated, the weed making thoughts weightless and strange. Lyssa had been a later addition—Mason's girl before she was anyone else's friend. She was sharp-edged, slick with something half-feral, the kind of girl who liked the things most people crossed the street to avoid. She wasn't soft the way Hellen had been. Hellen had made the world quieter. Lyssa made it stranger.

"I'm breaking my dart record tonight," Theo said suddenly, grinning.

Chaz raised an eyebrow. "You tracking your urinal stats now?"

Theo nodded, eyes on the stars. "It's a sacred rite."

Chaz didn't answer. His fingers twitched against his knees, like he was about to reach for something and changed his mind. "I'll pass."

"Christ," Lyssa muttered. "You sulk harder than a wet cat. Do *something* or quit moping."

Chaz stood too fast, brushing dust off his jeans like it offended him. "Didn't realize we needed clowns tonight."

"Relax," Allison said, barely glancing up.

"Whatever."

Mason rose with a sigh. "Anyone want to shoot around?"

"No," Lyssa said, picking at the bark of a stick. "I'd rather see how long it takes Chaz to combust."

"Fuck off," Chaz growled, spinning to face her.

Allison closed her eyes. Here it came. Always, always those two circling the same old argument, neither landing a blow that would stick, just spinning in anger and something like grief.

She wrapped her arms around her knees. She should've stopped it. Should've stepped in. But what would she even say?

Chaz hated change. Lyssa *was* change.

Hellen's absence scraped at her again—sharp, then dull, like a bruise hidden under layers of memory.

"Chaz," she said quietly, not expecting it to reach him.

He didn't move. She watched his shoulders rise, fall.

"I'm going for a walk," she murmured, standing. "Be back."

No one tried to stop her.

The woods swallowed her quickly, the noise of the fire fading behind her like a memory pulled out to sea. Fog pressed between the trees, thick and low. The branches overhead knotted together, gnarled and skeletal. Allison kept walking.

Hellen used to say the forest listened.

A snap of twigs underfoot, a shimmer of movement in the haze. Allison froze.

"Hellen?" she breathed, stupidly.

Nothing.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. Her hand found a tree, gripping bark. "Shit."

The air was heavier here. Time didn't move right. She turned back, breath shallow, vision stung with memory.

By the time she stumbled back into the firelight, the clearing looked unreal—too warm, too golden. Everyone still sat in the circle, but their laughter had gone quiet. Theo and Chaz faced each other across the fire like rival reflections, something unsaid lingering in the space between them.

It hurt to look.

Mason draped himself across Lyssa like armor, his laugh loud and misplaced. She leaned away almost imperceptibly.

Allison watched them all, felt her stomach twist. Mason had never known how to *stay* close without reaching too far.

Then, Theo stood up abruptly. "Gonna go mark some trees."

"I'm in," Chaz said, eyes still heavy.

"Me too," Mason added, never one to miss a chance to compete.

Lyssa snorted, "Godspeed, gentlemen."

Once the boys were swallowed by the woods, Lyssa turned to Allison. Her voice was softer than usual. "You okay?"

Allison blinked. She wasn't used to concern from Lyssa.

"I'm—" She paused. Her voice cracked on the first word. "No. Not really."

Lyssa didn't look surprised. She nodded once, slow. "I wish I'd known her better."

That did it. Allison's chest clenched. "She was... everything. You don't meet people like that twice."

"She made the world feel different," Lyssa said, eyes on the fire. "Even silence felt full when she was in it."

Allison looked toward the woods, to the dark trees swaying gently. "I should've said something before she was gone."

"I think she knew," Lyssa said, quietly. "People like that... they *see* it."

Allison didn't answer. She just nodded. Grief sat between them like another person.

The boys returned, loud and laughing, breaking the stillness. They sat, and for a moment, things seemed okay again.

But Allison saw the truth in the shadows.

None of them would ever be whole again.

Not without her. Not without *Hellen*.

And Allison felt, with a certainty that stung, that absence wasn't emptiness.

It was presence—just one they could no longer touch.

thx so much for reading! kind critique, suggestions, and feedback is welcomed!!