“You… I don’t even know what to say. It’s too late.” I feel deflated—all the anger, the way he would gaslight me, the way he’d yell at me if he thought I was looking at other men. The way I had given all of myself, all the best parts of me, to him, because I thought he loved me. Now it means nothing.
“I can’t believe you just left like this,” I choke out. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything you put me through. Now you’re justdead. I can’t believe—” My chest is heaving now. I feel a full-on panic attack coming. “I can’tbelievehow much I loved you. I must have been crazy.” My laugh sounds hysterical. “I can’t believe the shit I put up with from you. God, I hate you. You don’t get to die. You don’t get to just fuck up my life then die like this.”
I decide suddenly.
“I’m getting my money back, asshole. I’m crashing the will reading or whatever. You should know—” I’m fishing inmy coat pocket for a Kleenex. “Know that I have a wonderful man in my life who treats me the way that I deserve. We’re going to get married and have three beautiful children, and I’m clawing back every penny so that they can all have their own rooms that they can decorate however they want, and we’ll have central heating, no wood-burning fireplaces that spew smoke into the living room. And I’ll have a nice kitchen to make them after-school snacks while they do homework at the island. And everything you put me through will be worth it because it just made me stronger. So screw you.”
I lean over. I might not be pissing on Brock’s grave, but I am going to spit on him. Symbolically, mostly. I don’t want to go to jail for defiling a corpse. Bethany really would fire me then.
But as I lean over, there’s motion.
I’m literally losing it,I think.
His corpse hasn’t justsmiled,has it?
“B-B—Brock?” I stammer, then I scream when a cold hand shoots up and grabs my neck.
“Vampire! Help! Zombie!” I slap at him.
Still screaming, I scramble back, tripping over chairs, falling and banging my knees. My dress hem rides up my stress-eating-enhanced thighs as I try to escape that unholythingin the coffin.
It’s sitting up with cold, lifeless eyes.
“Call the police! Call the army! Help!” I look around wildly for someone with a flamethrower or a gun.
Except… I’m the only one upset. No one is freaked out that Brock has risen from the dead. No one is screaming from fear. Instead, they’re… laughing?
“Oh my god!” Brock is clutching his sides. “Oh my fucking god, your face!”
His friends from the YouTube channel are circling vultures with cameras as everyone howls at me.
“Did you get her falling?” One of the camera men motions to the other.
I grab my skirt. “What the hell? Are you kidding me?This was a prank?”
“I can’t believe you fell for it!” Brock’s laughing hysterically in the casket while I sob on the floor.
My ex leaps out of the coffin and swaggers over to me. “Surprise! I always knew you cared, baby.”
The cameras are in my face as he crouches down in front of me.
“Aww, you’re crying over me. Come here, give me a hug.”
I’m in shock; I don’t know what I’m doing as I let him wrap his arms around me.
My ex leans in to kiss me on the head.
“Hey, man, you’re ruining the shot,” one of the cameramen complains.
“I don’t give a fuck about your fucking bullshit YouTube channel.” A massive arm wraps around my waist, then I’m yanked upright and back.
I cling to McCarthy as he holds me, my legs jelly.
The room is spinning.
I’m going to puke.
I left Brock after he played one too many stupid jokes on me—and now this?
