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“When I saw him for the first time, he didn’t look like someone who had done that. He was good looking, well dressed, had just left his really cushy government job, which was why his wife couldn’t turn to anyone else. I was terrified and confused, at least, before I saw his hands.” Pulling one hand out from under the sheet, I flexed my fingers and frowned at my knuckles. “His knuckles were bruised. He said he was working on his car and punched a tire in frustration. But I could see they were the same as the imprint on that woman’s face where he’d cracked her eye socket in half. He had a cut on the back of his left hand from when the razor slipped when he shaved her head. But... he had excuses for all of it and was a very, very good liar.
“I was nervous, but I was so angry. I lured him to his car and got inside, and when he tried to climb on top of me, I stabbed him right through his mouth into his brain.” I could still smell it, still feel that body sag over the center console of the car. I could still remember the adrenaline coursing through me— the exhilaration of knowing that woman would be safe. Inhaling a shaky, thick breath, I clenched my hand into a tight fist. “It wasn’t about killing him. It was about making her safe. She spent all those years unable to breathe, suffocating, and now, I gave her breath. She never quite recovered, obviously, but she met a woman and they’re happy.
“Mason said I had to be ready... that it’d get easier... that if Brandon had been the one to tie my dad to the fan and kick out the stool, he was rich and would escape charges, and that I had to take it into my own hands. Years and years of telling me that. Never, ever, not once, did Mason mention Berthold or that it was Bert handling the deal. I’m sure now that he knew and just didn’t tell me. So, when I found out that Brandon was basically a passenger on a derailed train, I thought to myself... Obviously, it weighs on him. Obviously, he’s sorry for it. Obviously, something changed afterwards, and Brandon himself changed for the better. And I thought... you know... maybe living my best life, happy, was really the best revenge. Bert’s old and fat, and he has health problems. He’s gonna die on his own time. I have a baby, and I love Brandon, and he loves me, and that’s enough for me.” Inhaling a shaky breath, I closed my tired eyes, and I wasn’t able to open them again. “But when I told Mason that I didn’t think Brandon was the horrible monster I’d always thought he was Mason went ballistic. Yelling at me over the phone, telling me I wasted my whole life. And... I kinda agree with him because I did waste my whole life. I wasted my whole life by not getting help, and for thinking that killing Brandon would make the pain go away.”
“Why’d you tell him you want to go home when it’s a lie?”
My breath hitched, and Nathan’s gaze bored holes into my head as his face twisted into a frown.
“You said you were done, that you were tired, and you’re just going to kill yourself anyway. So, why’d you tell him you want to go home just a few hours later?”
“Be— because... I’d rather do it there, anyway, than on this awful island, alone and ignored and persecuted. I’m tired. I’m tired of living. I’m tired of Mason. And what can I do? I can’t kill him. If anyone bothered asking me, I would’ve said that Mason would never come here to end me himself. I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m not a person anymore. Like— like I’m just an incubator for this baby. Like what I feel and what I want don’t matter anymore. Ever since we found out I was pregnant everyone has made decisions about me without me based solely on this baby... and I don’t even know if I won’t break under the stress. What then, Nathan?”
But Nathan couldn’t answer my question or refute my declarations because I was right, and he knew it. Rubbing his face roughly, his dark skin tinged pink at the incredible discomfort of the conversation when I forced my eyes open again.
“What if you don’t break under the stress?”
Dark eyes caught mine, and I blinked blearily at the concern that twinkled in them.
“Assume for a second that you get through this with your baby, and Brandon, and everything’s good. Mason dies, because God only knows it’s the only way to stop him. You go back, and Brandon quits his position, and you spend a while teaching him frugality and being parents... you don’t want that?”
“... I want to not want or feel or be anything. I don’t have any effort left to give. I don’t have any more tears to shed. I don’t have any more skin on my back, and I’d rather be dead than be empty.”
The conversation stalled, thankfully, when Julia cracked open the door. I knew she’d been listening through the flimsy barrier, but I wastired. I could never express how tired I was. She produced a tray when she turned to me, and my stomach heaved at the mere sight of food. Rolling over to face the wall, I pulled my sheet over my head again and prayed to any god that would listen... for this to end.
ChapterSix
BRANDON
“—ndon... Brandon, wake up.”
Cracking my eyes open as Nathan jostled my body, I sucked in a sharp breath. He grabbed me under my arm to haul me to my feet, and my brain spun on its stem. Holding the wall, I winced as aches shot down my back and legs.
“I’m up. I’m awake. How’s Katie?” My question slurred heavily from sleep, and I rubbed my face with both my palms as worry and dread knotted my gut. “What happened?”
“Nothin’. I just thought you might not want to sleep on the floor.” Clapping my shoulder, Nathan cracked a grim smile through my bleary gaze.
A yawn threatened to unhook my jaw from my face, and I stretched my arms high over my head.
“You okay? I’m gonna grab some breakfast. Wanna come?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna get Katie something, too. Hopefully she’ll eat.” Alarm flashed on Nathan’s dark features, and I frowned under furrowed brows. “What?”
“You might wanna wash your face.” He grabbed my hand, and dried, crusted blood lodged under my fingernails and in the creases of my palm.
For a moment, I couldn’t remember how that’d happened, and my lips thinned as memories of last night came rushing back to me. “... I know what you’re thinking.” I scratched my jaw roughly with my other hand, rolling my shoulders hard. Satisfiedpopsrippled down my back, and I shook myself out a little as I glanced over at the door. Just beyond, Katie was lying in bed, alone, wiped out and scared, and my heart throbbed painfully as I beat back the sting in my eyes. “I don’t see her that way, Nathan.”
“What way?” Shuffling down the hall toward the kitchens, I raked my hand through my hair as I thought about Nathan’s question. What way did I see Katie?
That’s stupid. I love her.I love her, and I am going to make this right somehow.If I could. Memories of all the horrible, but not unfounded, slurs she’d slung at me, the accusations and venom, beat against the backs of my eyes. Katie had every right to give up after fighting so long. More than half her life, she’d been driven by revenge, and to accept that things weren’t what she thought... that Mason had encouraged her to go the wrong way...
But she was willing to put it all aside for me, for us, and for our baby.
“I don’t see her as the problem.” My murmur was overly loud in the long, quiet hallway, echoing off the tiled floor. Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and flopped my head back to stare at the popcorned ceiling. “She was willing to change, even if I didn’t realize it. But she was right. I may not take shit from Bert anymore, but I ignore things and expect them to go away. I take everyone for granted. I’m naïve and coddled, and... she was right about my dad, too. I didn’t know him. He was just a guy my mom had an unfortunate mishap with. He wasn’t my dad, and I shouldn’t be bitter pretending he was. She has every right to be bitter. If it weren’t for me, her dad would be alive... or, at least, he wouldn’t have died the way he did.”
“You should tellherthat. You’re still ignoring the issue, Brandon.Talk— to— her.Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to Julia. Talk to Katie.”
I ducked my head in a nod, and a heaviness dragged down my steps while Nathan clapped his hand on my shoulder again.
