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It all tapered off maybe a year before when he decided to relocate to the east coast. I remembered feeling a sigh of relief when I walked into a dinner party and didn't see him there. He always had a tendency to corner Sammy, or me, or both of us, something that had always set me on edge. I'd always been pretty social, had a large circle of friends, easily conversed with those older than me because I'd been raised to do so. None of my parents' other friends made me uncomfortable. But Michael did.
And a large part of it had been the fact that he insisted on calling us princesses. Repeatedly.
It was weird.
I'd told Sammy as much a few times.
She, being the nicer of us, the one who always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, always insisted that I was being paranoid.
"Charlotte?" I asked on my way out the door a little while later, after pulling myself together, knowing I had to play this card close to my vest, that men like Michael didn't let rumors spread about him, that if I wanted proof, I had to be very careful.
"Yeah?"
"You went to the Mitchell's dinner party with Sammy that last weekend right?" I asked. I'd decided to sit that one out, which had gotten me a pout from Sammy because she had already said she'd go and didn't want to do it without me.
"Yeah. God, the food was terrible."
"It always is," I agreed, shaking my head. "Sammy wanted me to go. Now, I feel like I missed out on a chance to spend time with her. Did I miss anything? I never got to talk to Sammy about how it went."
"Uneventful for the most part. Judy is back in rehab. Alice got her nose done. Oh, and Michael got the most obvious hair plugs. God, they were bad. You'd think with all his money, he could get more convincing ones."
"Michael McDermot?" I asked, hoping my voice came off as casual even as my head started spinning.
"Yeah."
"I thought he was over in New York or something."
"Jersey. Yeah, but he was back to see his sister's art exhibit. Which was also pretty terrible. When this abstract trend is over, I will finally be able to enjoy art again."
"I know, right?" I agreed, shaking my head. "Did Sammy have a good time there?"
"She reconnected with the Dodd sisters."
'Ew."
"Yeah. But she was happy. They were going to go out this weekend." Her eyes closed tight, trying to hold onto the tears. "I haven't been able to talk to your parents about this yet, but I am breaking my lease here. I just... I can't," she said, shaking her head, her gaze shooting toward Sammy's room. Where she'd found her body in the tub.
"I understand," I agreed, feeling the piercing sensation inside. "I will talk to my dad. He will have it handled. I will collect Sammy's things in a few days," I added, not sure how I would be able to box everything she owned and tuck it away, knowing she would never get to touch it again.
But I would do it.
I would get through it.
Because through all the grief was something else. Something that was proving a good distraction, taking the edge off, letting me focus.
Michael McDermot raped my sister.
He made it so that she didn't want to be on this earth anymore.
I was going to make sure he paid for that.
I was going to ensure that he could never do that to another woman again.
"Thanks, Reagan. I know this is a horrible time for you. I didn't want to pile more on."
"It's a bad time for you too," I reminded her, reaching out to grab her wrist, giving it a squeeze.
With that, I moved out into the hall, got down into my car, drove it to the beach, and promptly lost my shit again.
Rage and grief and helplessness mingled with a heavy dose of guilt until it bubbled up and burst over, came pouring out.
As I wiped my face later, ignoring the curious look of a couple of teenagers standing next to their car, witnessing my breakdown, I felt something else started to spread inside, something I had never experienced before, something I thought would feel hot, searing, but found cold and cutting.
Hatred.
I disliked plenty of people in my life.
But Michael McDermot was the first person I ever hated.
I was honestly pretty sure that were he to stand in front of me right then, I would have plowed into him with my car, taken from him what he took from my sister.
I'd happily spend a decade or two in prison for that.
Nervous energy pent up, making me sweaty and uncomfortable, I got out of my car, I walked down the beach, sitting down when I found a somewhat private space, staring off into the waves for hours, trying to figure out what my next move was.
