“You have no idea what I—” Her phones buzzes. We both stare at the screen when she pulls it out. “I don’t know this number.”
“Answer it,” I say icily.
She slides her thumb across and puts it on speaker. “Hello?”
“Nothing personal about the article.” Zebulund’s familiar voice oozes derision. “But I did warn you. You can’t cross me. This was your warning. Lie to me again and this’ll seem like a picnic.”
The line goes silent.
Maggie finally breaks, seeming to understand that she really is his pawn now.
“I can’t work for that monster. I don’t know what to do. What are we going to do?”
We.
Is there a “we”? Or has this always been about her? I want to comfort her. I want to ease her pain.
But.
But what about all the starving nights? My family. The town that rallied for me. What are they doing with this news? I need to think. I need space. I need to fix this.
“Roe?” Her voice cracks and I feel it in my soul.
“I need to go home.” It’s all I can say. I want to make her feel better but I’m reeling. My life is over. I know it’s not fair to be mad at her. But I can’t think about “we” right now.
“Please don’t hate me. Please look at me.” She comes forward again and grabs my face. “Please.”
My will is crumbling. I want to find solace in her but I can’t. I need to fix this.
“I’m not mad. I’m ruined.”
“We can fix it.” She pulls my shirt. “I-I’ll fix it.”
“What can be done?” I’m shut down. I know that I sound far away. “I need to go home,” I repeat.
I start calculating sums, thinking about what I can sell to make things right. Most of my money already goes back home but I will find a way.
“I’ll come with you. Explain everything to them. They’ll know it wasn’t you.” She’s desperate.
But she’s done enough. Her heart was in the right place, but she was so set this whole time she never really thought about me. It was always about her. In the back of my mind I always knew it. She couldn’t possibly care about me as much as I cared about her, but I wanted to believe.
It’s clear the moment she surrenders to the truth. She straightens, wipes the tears from her face. We were never going to work. Our desires were too different. Our worlds too different. Gently, I nudge her back.
“I need to go alone.”
32
Maggie
What is this?This numbness. Somehow I’m back at the bungalow though I don’t remember driving. Reality is distant. The world keeps going but I’m not. Nothing feels real or important.
My life is ruined.
Roe blames me. He’s too nice to admit it because I shared with him my darkest shame. And I blame me too. I brought all this upon him.
Zebulund weaved him in and systematically dismantled his life because I dragged him kicking and screaming into his twisted world. My vendetta trumped all. My sights were set on one thing. It’s because I wanted to stop Zebulund from hurting anyone else—and that’s still true—but I also hadn’t realized how much rage and shame I’d been holding onto until I unloaded on Roe. I wanted Zebulund to feel that burning fear and disgust, the way I did. I hate that time after time he gets what he wants, uses who he wants to and goes on living a life of luxury.
He needs to feel pain on a level that all his victims have. And I'll do whatever it takes, no matter who I take down in the process.
