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“I don’t know what you’re on about.” Her lower lip trembles while she speaks.
“I think you do,” Alexander whispers harshly.. “And you’re going to be the one to tell us what you did.”
Cassidy scoffs, spitting in Alexander’s direction. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. Instead, he walks over to the nearby table and puts on a pair of gloves. Then he pulls a syringe out of one of the boxes. It’s filled with a brown milky-looking substance.
Her blue eyes follow him closely.
“What the fuck is that?” she asks the obvious question.
Alexander grins. “Your favorite,” he says. “Well, your father’s favorite.”
I’m watching what’s unfolding in front of me curiously, my mouth slightly agape.
“How much of this do you think you’ll need for an overdose?” Alexander runs the needle over her arm. “If I injected you with this and you somehow survived, would anyone believe if you told them that I did it?” He holds up a hand, laughing. “It’s a trick question. You won’t remember.”
“Get that away from me,” Cassidy says, trying to squirm out of his reach. Alexander’s big hand comes down around her neck, holding her in place.
“I heard that you’re the one who found him,” Alexander continues, he pauses with the needle by the crook of her elbow. “Your mum will be so disappointed in you, she’ll be so hurt. But, she’ll understand, won’t she?” Another rumbling chuckle. “After all, she did send you to rehab to get you clean. A relapse won’t be strange.”
Cassidy is trembling now, her eyes glued to the needle making contact with her skin. I have an idea of what’s in the syringe now, but I need to be sure.
“What is that?” I ask Alexander, leaning over to get a better look.
He looks up at me. “Heroin.”
Oh.
She breaks out in silent sobs at his words, and there isn't even a drop of sympathy for her as I look on. Her tears mean little when she’s tried to have me killed, when she’s weaponized everything that made me different. If the roles were reversed, her smile would be touching her ears. She would be reveling in my pain.
At least I’m not doing that.
Her pathetic sobs punctuate the silence for a bit.
“What do you expect me to say?” she whines.
Alexander puts pressure on the needle, and I’m certain it’s punctured her skin now. “You can start with thetruth.”
Cassidy grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.
She doesn’t seem to be forthcoming, and I’m both anxious and intrigued about what Alexander will do next. There’s a tiny voice in my head telling me how wrong this is, but it’s buried under the thrill of getting revenge. Just when I think he’s about to inject her with the drugs, she starts to talk.
“I’ve had you bugged from the week after the party where we fucked.” She’s looking at me while she says that and it makes my skin heat up. One, the idea ofanyonehaving sex with Alexander gets me upset, but the fact it’sheronly makes it worse. Not to mention the fact this means she was lying to me about the cabin. “Yourrealwatch is at the bottom of the lake. At first, it was just to help me find you on campus. I figured it would be one of those things we would laugh about once we got together.”
Cassidy takes in a breath that rattles her shoulders. Her head is bowed, her hair falling all over her face, and her eyes have darkened. She looks like a woman possessed.
“Then I realized you were playing hard to get. The tracker made things easier for me. It helped me figure you out, to know where you went.” She smiles ruefully. “It wasn’t untilsheshowed up that I realized how valuable knowing where you were was.”
Though I’m stunned by her confession—she was literallystalkinghim and she’s talking about it as if it was the next great British love story—Alexander is impatient.
“You know I’m not asking aboutjustthe tracker,” he hisses.
“What else is there?”
Alexander sighs, removing the needle. Cassidy visibly relaxes. He moves back to the table, and I fully expect him to return with some other kind of torture implement. Instead, he reaches for his laptop. He brings it closer to Cassidy and I.
“Then explain this?”
He clicks the touchpad and a video starts to play.
