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“Home? Do you think I have a home?” He looks at me, and I wish he wouldn’t because we’re still tearing down the road. “I haven’t had a home since I was ten years old. Thanks to that motherfucker you sided with. You sided with him so many times. You’re so fucking stupid, so blind.”
“Dean! The road!” Reflex makes me reach out and try to adjust the wheel when he starts to drift off to the shoulder. He recovers quickly, a bitter laugh making my blood run cold.
“So stupid. You stupid, stupid bitch. Trusting him. I bet you fucked him, too, didn’t you? I saw the way he looked at you. At the beginning of the semester compared to the last time I saw him?” He whistles, shaking his head. “You must be fucking fantastic.”
“Why are you saying this? Where is this coming from? This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“And how exactly would you know what I sound like? Maybe I only showed you what I wanted you to see, the way he always has. The way you let him.” He slams his palm against the wheel with every word.
Now there are tears in my eyes again. Not angry tears, not this time. “What are you saying? Who are you? What is this really about?”
“Oh, now you care. Now you want to comfort me, right? When you fucking rejected me all semester because you couldn’t see anything but him. That evil, murderous fuck, and he was all you wanted.”
“You’re right. I was blind. I only saw what I wanted to see. And now, you can tell me the truth. That’s all I want, the truth. You’ve already helped me so much, you know.”
“Helped you? I had to fucking spoon-feed it to you. You never even thought to pull back the curtain and see what was behind it, did you?” He shakes his head with a disgusted laugh. “No, you wouldn’t. Because your whole life changed for the better, right? Daddy found you, and he’s rich, and he’s connected, and why would you want to know anything more than that? It might ruin the fantasy.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Tell yourself whatever you need to do,” he snarls. “It doesn’t matter anyway. By the time this is finished, you won’t have to worry about anything. You or him.”
Now I wish I had let him drift off the road. I wish we had crashed into one of the concrete supports whizzing past on my right. It would be quicker than what I’m afraid he has in mind. “What are you trying to say?” I ask, feeling small and cold and so alone.
He smiles slowly, but it’s the smile of a demon before the real torture begins. I’ve never seen anything terrifying enough to make me almost lose control of my bladder. Not until now.
“I’m going to take away the thing he loves, the way he took away my life.” He sounds almost happy. “The night he murdered my father in front of me.”
No. That can’t be true.
Yet somewhere in my heart, I know it is.
“And I’m going to show him how it feels to watch somebody he loves die in front of him.” He’s calm. Serene. “Before I kill him, too.”
