Page 128 of What Goes Around

But the real blow had come years later in my past life, when I was lying on a filthy mattress. My mind had been fogged, drifting in and out, but some things had still cut through the haze.

Apple had leaned close and whispered something I had never known.

“It should have been you.”

At the time, the details had barely registered. It took months in this life before the memory returned in full, piece by piece, like a film reel spliced back together.

Apple had told me that Marissa had confessed to her years earlier. Marissa had apologized. She had said she had seen the man in Walmart that day. She had noticed him watching us. She had felt something was wrong. She had considered intervening.

But then she had thought that if the man took Ashley, if he killed her even, she would finally be free.

I remembered how Marissa had told me to fetch crayons from the next aisle.

I obeyed.

I stood there, staring at rows of bright boxes, trying to figure out which ones were Crayolas. Everything looked the same.

Then he appeared.

A tall young man, so big it felt like he filled the entire aisle just by standing in it.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said gently. “Where’s your mom?”

I didn’t answer. I just pointed at the shelf. “Which ones are Crayolas?”

He followed my finger, then reached up easily, pulling down a box I couldn’t have gotten myself.

“These,” he said.

I took them.

Then he added, “You shouldn’t talk to strangers. It’s dangerous.”

The words startled me.

I wasn’t supposed to.

I grabbed the box and ran back, heart pounding, hoping Marissa wouldn’t realize I had spoken to him. I didn’t want her to get mad.

Twice more, Marissa sent me away on small errands.

I hesitated each time. I wanted to stay where it felt safe.

But I went anyway.

Later, when everything fell into chaos, he was there again.

He stayed with me. Noticed I was alone. That I was scared.

Back then, I was grateful for it.

Looking at it now, he couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

And that day, no matter how many times Marissa sent me away, it wasn’t me who was taken.

It was Apple. Willful. Defiant. Uncontrollable.

Marissa lived with that guilt.