I listen.
“We wound up being nothing more than roommates.” He stares off in the distance for a moment. “What I am trying to say is that open and honest communication is important to me.”
“Okay.”
“I get your point that we haven’t known each other for long. And it’s got to be hard for you to talk about these things.”
“Yeah. Noah, I didn’t know what he was doing. That he was hurting people.”
“I know.” And he seems so certain. So sure.
The relief running through me is immense. Though open and honest communication requires one more step. Thank goodness for fake courage care of the booze. “It’s okay if you want to ask questions. We can talk about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’d probably be good for me to practice getting it out there with someone new. Not having it be this thing always hanging over my head, you know?”
He pauses. “You’ll tell me if you need to stop?”
I nod.
“What happened the night he was arrested? How far did he get with his plan to hurt you?”
I take my time, choosing my words with care. Thinking about this stuff sort of makes me want to vomit, but that’s nothing new.And I’m sick of Ryan having this power over me. “He’d picked up pizza as an apology for a fight we had a few days before. Funnily enough it was about me cutting my hair. All of the women who had gone missing from campus had long hair and so most people were cutting theirs to be safe. The topic had come up a few times and he always made me feel like I was being stupid and wouldn’t be as attractive with short hair. And that I should feel safe because didn’t he always pick me up and walk me to and from classes when he could?”
Noah’s lips are a flat unhappy line.
“He liked me worrying about the missing women. I think it made me more malleable. And of course, it made his secret self seem all the more terrifying and important,” I say. “That night he was being so sweet, but I wasn’t sure we were going to work out, which hurt because he was my first serious relationship. We were watching a movie. I can’t remember what it was. Some of my memories of him are incomplete. My therapist says it’s a trauma response.”
“Is that why you’ve been having trouble tracking down the places he took you?”
“One of them,” I say. “But we also did just go hiking that damn much. He liked to drive and of course he’d tampered with the tracking in his car so there are no records of exactly where we went. Muriel, Hana, and I have been checking weather maps, my class schedule, bank records, and anything else we can think of to try and fill in the gaps.”
“Makes sense that he’d been trying to cover his tracks.”
“He was organized. It’s why it took them so long to catch him.” A light breeze ruffles the leaves in the trees. I am safe, everything is fine, and my ex is locked up in a correctional facility. Which is exactly where he belongs. “That night there was no knocking or anything. No warning. The Tactical Services Unit broke down my apartment door. Scared the absolute crap out ofme. But not Ryan. He immediately knew what was happening and went straight for me. The last thing he wanted to do before he got locked up was kill me.”
“What did he do?”
“He tried to strangle me,” I say. “We think that was his thing. His preferred method of homicide. Briana Petersen’s body was very decayed and…you know…local wildlife. But the hyoid bone in her neck was broken. That’s usually a pretty good indicator of strangulation.”
“Right.”
“He always tried to come across as this easygoing affable guy. The second the door broke his face changed. I don’t know how to explain it. There was nothing of the person I thought I knew. It was like he’d never even existed. The whole good son and loving boyfriend had just been an act, you know?”
Noah nods.
“He grabbed my throat and squeezed as hard as he could. I remember the muscles in his arms popping…anyway. I couldn’t talk for like a week and there were all these bruises.” Some of my memories might be hazy; however, this one comes through loud and clear. The crushing pressure of his hands and the excitement shining in his eyes as darkness started creeping into my field of vision. Guess near-death experiences can be like that. Crystal clear and horrific and all kinds of fucked up.
“I am sorry that happened to you.”
“Me too. It absolutely sucks that it happened. But I’m one of the lucky ones because I’m still alive.”
He nods.
“I’ve decided it is time for me to get a life.”
“How are you going to do that?”
