“We met three times,” I say faintly.
“Technically,” she sings, and grins.
“Jenny—”
“Jenica,” she grits out.
“Honestly, I think the more important question here is,” I look at her hand. “Why are you pointing a gun at my head?” She moves into the house, and I back up, my hands raised. “You’re the one who slept withmyboyfriend.” I’ve never even seen a gun in real life.
“You stole my life,” she says.
“How’s that?” I widen my eyes when she shakes the gun. “Can you not do that?”
“I wanted the perfect life. The great dad. The perfect hair.” She looks up and down my body. “The boyfriend who would do anything for you.”
“I’m very confused. I didn’t have any of that.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs, glaring. “I know. You lied to me.”
I smile slightly, hoping to calm her. “Can you please explain?” I think back to any movies I saw. They always try to keep them talking until help arrives.
“In your letters, you bragged about everything,” she says.
“Letters?” I frown, but smooth my expression when she tenses, her finger stroking the trigger.
“I hated you when I got your first letter.” Oh, shit. Not good. She’s my other pen pal. “The teacher said it would be a good experience. They thought I was unstable since my dad was sent to prison. My mom drank herself to sleep every night just to cope with his abandonment, and they thought writing a fucking letter would ease my pain.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper. I did. I lied like crazy.
“All the things you wrote were everything I wanted. Mom didn’t want to be with me anymore. I didn’t know what to write to you,” she says, her voice turning sad. “What could I say? My grades sucked, and you had perfect scores.”
“You’re right,” I say softly. “I didn’t tell you the truth. I should have. I could have helped you.”
“How could you help?” she spits, her face turning red. “No one could. My mom sent me to another school with an aunt I didn’t know. She was worse than my mom, except she was addicted to pills and liked to shove me around.”
“I’m sorry.” Shit, I feel for her, yet the gun is still pointed at me.
“We didn’t have money. School was horrible, and the kids bullied me. My aunt didn’t care.” Tears fill her eyes. “Mom wouldn’t send me the address to send you a letter. I wanted to ask you if I could live with you. I pleaded, but she said she threw it out.”
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“I got sidetracked,” she mumbles, scratching her head. “I ran away when I was seventeen. Things got worse. I met a guy, and I thought he loved me. We planned for the future and were excited to start a family. I tried to have a baby, really hard.” She drops her hand and looks beyond me. “Something was wrong with me, and I couldn’t.”
“That’s not your fault,” I whisper.
“What do you know?” she asks harshly, and I gulp. “He said he was alright with not having kids, but I knew he was lying. Everyone lies. He started staying late at work. I knew he was cheating. He had to be,” she murmurs. “I showed him.” She smirks. “He won’t be having babies with anyone.” My heart drops. “Everyone leaves me, but at least that time, I made him go.”
“You killed him.” I press my palms to my stomach.
“No.” She wrinkles her nose, as if killing a man is a stretch. “He just wouldn’t admit it. So I cut his dick when I was giving him a blow job.” She shakes the gun again, and I pray Rylee gets here soon. “I was living with him, so I had nowhere to go. One night, I was crying outside a restaurant, and a woman stopped. Mave took me in and gave me food.” She smiles softly. “She was the mother I always wanted. We talked, and she insisted I get therapy. I think it helped,” she mumbles. “She paid for everything, and I got a job.” I wait, knowing she won’t appreciate my words. “For years, we were happy, and life was good. I felt normal. I enjoyed the new life she gave me.” She steps towardme, and I drop my arms, backing up toward the living room. “Everything was great.”
“What happened?” I ask, and bite my lip as she focuses on me.
“Mave died.” Oh, no. “She left me two years ago. She got sick and passed away quickly. I didn’t know she was living off credit cards. She didn’t have any money and didn’t set any aside for her funeral. She didn’t have anyone but me. It took all of my savings to bury her, and then I was back where I started.” She cups her arm that’s holding the gun. “I remembered you. I thought if I could find you, you would know what to do. Your dad had money. Your life was perfect, so I just knew you would be generous with me.”
“How did you find me?” I ask again.
“I went to the house I grew up in, and she was still there, still living in hell, drinking. My appearance didn’t make her happy.” She presses her lips together. “She didn’t miss me at all or care about anything I went through. We fought, and it was bad. I killed her.”
