"Say what?" She twisted her body and head around. "Are you trying to get me to confess for a camera or something? I'm not going to jail. I have a life. I have kids, a husband. Please stop this!"
"You never cared about what you were taking from me. Why should I care about taking things from you?"
It was fascinating how when I demanded she face what she did, she seemed to forget her wounds and entrapment altogether. Instead, she focused on denying any part in my trauma. I was who I was because of my mother, her, and the others.
"You are such a child," she snapped. "Spoiled, entitled, uneducated little shit. The only reason anyone ever gave you any attention was because of your pretty face. You bring nothing of value to this world other than your cock. They should have given you the fucking chair the day they found you eating that woman. You're a monster, not me."
"If I'm a monster, it's because you made me this way," I said, standing straighter. I looked down at myself—just jeans and shoes. I wanted her to see me, recognize my body. In that moment, I realized she might be right. I'd thought it myself more than once. It made sense others felt the same.
The only reason people liked me was my face. I was cursed to be nothing more than... pretty. If I weren’t trying to get back to Daisy, I would have carved my face right off in that moment. I closed my eyes and imagined tracing a deep circle around my skull and peeling the skin clean off…
"What are we doing here, Emile? You know the right thing to do is to let me go."
I came to and stared at her for a long moment before bursting out in laughter.
"I'll cut my face off and nail it to the wall before letting you go, you stupid bitch."
There was a knock, interrupting us. Pissed off, I plunged the knife into her shoulder and let go of it. I turned to the door.
"Yes?" I called.
Jules entered slowly, his eyes going right to her. He cocked an eyebrow.
"Have plans changed again, sir?"
"Maybe." I brushed a bead of sweat from my forehead. "What were they again?" I blew out a breath, and as my hand came down, I saw I'd gotten blood on me. I stared at it in disgust and wiped it on my jeans.
Jules cleared his throat and looked at the woman sobbing, pleading for him to save her.
"You wanted to have her for dinner, sir."
"Oh my god." She wailed. "It's true. Please, Emile, don't do this. If you let me go, I'll do anything. I won't tell anyone. Please, I didn't do anything wrong."
"Say it," I demanded.
"Say what?"
"Say what you fucking did!" I roared back. "Say the words."
"I raped you!" she screamed. "Are you happy?"
"No," I replied dryly.
She clamped her mouth shut, and I leaned over, yanking the knife from her shoulder. I looked at Jules.
"Change of plans." Keeping the knife, I went to the door, pausing next to Jules. I turned my head and spoke loud enough for her to hear me. "She doesn't deserve to be served on a fucking plate. Keep her alive for as long as possible and then feed her to the fucking dogs."
Chapter 49
Daisy
"I have to tell you something,"Gatsby started the morning after we'd been caught in my dressing room of the Theater. He'd been shaken up after speaking to Lilly, but he'd refused to tell me what they'd said to each other. Whatever it was had him pulling away from me. He requested I leave him alone, and I went to bed without him. He'd joined me sometime in the night, but rather than wake me to make love, as he usually did, he didn't even pull me in for an embrace.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched and head hung.
“What? You can tell me anything.” My stomach twisted with nerves. I knew he had a lot of darkness in his past, and I’d spent this summer bracing for it. Whatever he had to confess, I could take it.
“I-I did something to your phone. I blocked Max’s number. All of his calls, texts, and voice messages were sent to my phone instead of yours.”
