Page 106 of Her Wicked Plan

“There were empty beer cans on the coffee table, the dining room table, and the kitchen counter. He had started drinking earlier that day, which made me realize he hadn’t had a good day.” She wets her lips, one blink before she continues. “When I realized the situation I was walking in on, my heart started racing. It wasn’t the first time he had been drunk under my mother’s roof.”

She pauses for a moment, recalling what happens next. “But this time was the time he crossed the line?”

Her eyes finally focus on me as she realizes that I’m sitting across from her. “Yeah. I heard shouting from her room. He was yelling. She was crying... begging for his forgiveness. She did nothing wrong. She never did.” Eliza swallows hard. “My mother was my best friend. I would do anything for her. Do you have someone in your life like that?”

My sister. “I do.”

“Then you know that nothing will stop you from protecting that one person in this world that you love. When I pushed the door open, he had a gun pointing at her. He always carried that gun. Said it was for his protection as well as ours whenever he stayed over.” She laughs hastily. “My mother's eyes slipped to mine. A silent plea gleamed in hers, begging me to leave the room. To run. That I shouldn’t have to witness the fight.”

My throat starts tightening, the anticipation eating at my skin.

“I’m not even sure what he was yelling about that day. There was a rush that filled my ears, blocking him out. A loud roar of silence and then... that’s when the voices started.” Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them away. One rolls down her cheek, but she doesn’t move to brush it away. “They said, ‘he’s going to kill her if you don’t kill him first,’ and when I heard that, I shook my head. Sure, he was yelling at her. Drunk as always, but there was no way he was going to shoot her. Nothing my mother could have done would have caused him to shoot her. There was just no way.”

Silence overcame her. I watch curiously as her eyes dance around the air. She is reliving the moment as we sit at this table. If I were anyone other than myself, I would reach over and touch her hand. I would let her know that I’m here, that she isn’t in the bedroom.

Despite my being me, I do just that. When I make contact, she quietly gasps. I pull her out of the memory, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“He did it, didn’t he?” The question comes out quietly.

She doesn’t need to answer with words. The answer is written all over her face.

“He shot her in the head. Right between her eyebrows. I must have let out a scream because then he was turning around. I didn’t realize for a moment because I was too busy watching the life fade from my mother's eyes.” Finally lifting a hand, she wipes away a tear. “When my eyes locked with his, utter fear flooded my body. The voices started again: ‘You couldn’t save your own mother. Can you even save yourself?’”

Her body shudders at the memory. “It kept telling me I had to kill him to save myself. To avenge my mother. I didn’t have time to come up with a plan when he stalked over to me. His grip on my hair was so tight that I thought he would pull out the strands. He was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear him over the voice in my head. All I remember is him yanking me towards the bed, tossing me next to my mother. My eyes stayed on his because if I glanced at my mother’s body for a second, he would have the upper hand.”

“I crawled back on the bed as the gun hung low at his side. The other hand reached for his belt, and I knew what was happening. As he was undoing it, unsnapping the button of his jeans. Bile rose in my throat, but I held it back. My back hit the headboard. I was trapped. He kneeled on the bed and grabbed my ankle. That voice in my head yelled at me to fight back. Once his pants were halfway down, I kicked him right in the groin. His body bent over, and that's when I heard the gun fall to the floor.”

My own heart is racing at the images she is painting. The fact that he was planning on taking advantage of her makes my blood boil. If she hadn’t killed him, I would have found him myself and done it.

“With him bent over, I slammed the bottom of my foot into his face, sending him backward. I wasn’t aware of the strength my body had, but he tumbled back into the wall when the voice reminded me the gun was on the floor. I picked it up and shot him without hesitation. First, between his legs, I wanted to hear him scream in pain. Make him feel the same amount of pain that I was in. He yelled. He begged for me to spare his life, but the only voice I listened to was the one in my head. I shot him between the eyes without hesitation, just like he did with my mother.”

“Was that the first time he was going to do that to you?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Between the crashing waves and the voice in my ear, I heard snippets of his words: how pretty I was, how he should have done this a long time ago.”

My body shudders with disgust. “It was self-defense. Why are you here then?”

She sighs, coming back into the present with me. At the asylum. “I didn’t have time to call the police. The neighbors did that for me since they heard multiple gunshots. When the cops got there, I still had the gun in my hand. Two dead people were in the room. I told the officer what happened. I couldn’t stop crying and begging them to quiet the voices in my head. They sent me for a psych evaluation, and here I am.”

Goosebumps litter my skin. My eyes drop to my barely eaten sandwich, now likely cold. I wasn’t going to finish it anyway. “Here you are.”

“I guess I don’t mind being sent here,” she says, falling back into her chair. “My mother was the only one I had. Without her, I’m not sure what I would have done. It’s better this way.”

“Being locked in here isn’t for the better, Eliza,” I state.

“Is the person you love the most still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Then you don’t know what it feels like to lose everything.”

After she finished, Eliza left me alone to sit with her story. The whole thing played out in my head again, but this time around, I thought of what I would have done if I caught my sister's boyfriend screaming at her like that. If he were holding a gun to her head.

I would have had my knife on me. It would have been thrown into his back before he had the chance to think about pulling the trigger.

The impact of the knife on his back would have caught him by surprise, and the gun would fall to the ground. I’d dive for it and shoot him right then. I’d be the hero in my sister’s story for once.

That played out in my head as I walked down the hall. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t realize that I stumbled upon Scarlet and Leo conversing. Seeing her with him turns my blood hot.