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He claps me on the back and walks toward the stairs as I turn my laptop off. I watch him walk away, looking far more relaxed than he did an hour ago. I’m glad I was able to stop him from potentially ruining his career. He’s right. Aria wouldn’t have forgiven herself, and they’d both end up heartbroken. Noah’s career means the world to him. It’s all he’s ever dreamed about, and he’s only just finally finished his residency. I can’t let him risk it all now.
I’m restless as I walk to the guest room. Even though I know I did some irreversible damage to Brad, it doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t shake the image of Aria standing in front of me, tears streaming down her face. She felt so cold in my arms, and the way she was shaking… she didn’t even have her home keys — she had nothing but her phone on her. Aria must have rushed out of her apartment in a state of despair.
I sit down on my bed and run a hand through my hair. It’s not enough. Ruining his career isn’t enough.
I rise to my feet without a second thought and slip out of my room. Noah has too much to lose, but I don’t.
I grab Noah’s car keys on the way out, and twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of Aria’s apartment. I raise my hand to the doorbell, barely able to restrain my anger.
Brad opens up almost immediately. “Aria?” he says, his voice tinged with mock concern.
His expression drops when he sees me standing in front of him, and I smile as I pull my arm back and punch him square in the jaw. He stumbles back and loses his footing, falling to the floor. A rush of satisfaction overcomes me, and the feeling is almost… thrilling. I’ve felt this way only once before when I put my former foster father in the hospital. This feeling… it’s addictive. It’s dangerous.
“That’s the last time you’ll ever say her name,” I tell Brad.
I lean in and pull him back up by his collar before punching him again, enjoying the loud crack upon impact. Brad falls back to the floor, blood trickling from his lip. The expression on his face tells me he knows exactly what he’s done — and that Aria knows. I’m tempted to do to him what I did to my foster father, breaking as many bones as I can, leaving him paralyzed. I struggle to push down my need for vengeance, my need to make him pay the ultimate price for his betrayal.
“Don’t try to contact her. Don’t appear in front of her. If I catch you anywhere near her, I’ll do far worse than I did today.”
Brad laughs mockingly, but I hear the desperation underneath it. “You won’t get away with this,” he tells me. “I’ll sue you. This is assault, and you can more than afford to settle, can’t you?”
I smile and look down at my fist. I hit him so hard that my knuckles are red. I sigh and look back at him. “Do you really think I’ll appear on any of your building’s security cameras? Noah’s home cameras will show me walking in a few hours ago, and they won’t capture me leaving again until tomorrow morning.”
I take a step back and shake my head. “Spread any rumors, andI’llsueyoufor defamation. But that’s not all I’ll do. Watch your back.”
I want to say more, but I can’t have him suspect that I messed with his software. I doubt he’ll be able to find my little alterations to his code, but just in case, I don’t want to hint at it. I’m tense as I walk out of the building, my hands shaking with suppressed violence. This anger, this inability to accept injustice… it runs through my veins like a compulsion. I can’t give in to it again. I wanted to do so much worse to Brad, and I barely restrained myself. I should have put him in the hospital for what he did to Aria — but this will do.
It’ll do, for now.
10
Aria
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, dropping my towel to the floor. I’m nowhere near as tall as Britney, and my body type isn’t anything like hers either. My stomach isn’t flat and I have no thigh gap to speak of. My legs are big, they always have been. I don’t have her long, beautiful legs. Looking at myself, I now see what Brad must have seen. The stretch marks, the fat around my stomach and thighs. Even my breasts aren’t what they used to be. My weight fluctuations made them look far more saggy than they once were.
Is that what it was? Was it my body? Or was it a combination of things?
Brad and I didn’t even sleep together until we’d decided to move in together, and now that makes sense. He didn’t want me. Sleeping with me was another way to keep me under his thumb, to keep me happy.
Whenever we did have sex, it was usually over quickly. Brad never held me the way he was holding Britney. He always,alwaysshowered straight after sex. I didn’t use to think much of it and just assumed it was a personal preference. That maybe he just didn’t like the idea of being even remotely sweaty. Now I know that’s not what it was.
It was me.
I turn away, disgusted by the image in the mirror. I dress hurriedly, wanting to cover myself up. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my own skin, and I can’t help but overthink everything.
Why wasn’t I good enough? What does Britney have that I don’t? Was any of it ever real? Thinking back on it, Brad and I first started talking because I offered to help him with an app he was asked to develop. He kept coming back for more help, and I thought he was flirting with me. Why didn’t he just clarify that he wasn’t? Why didn’t he steer us toward friendship instead? I would’ve been happy to be friends. He didn’t have to manipulate me the way he did. I’ve never denied anyone help, and had he asked for it, I probablywould havehelped him out.
Britney’s words keep replaying in my mind. Those two have obviously been together for months, if not years. I was thinking of my future with Brad, but Brad… he was building a future with Britney.
I grab my phone and scroll through old photos of us, looking for signs. In the few photos of Brad, Britney and me, he’s always in the middle, his eyes on her and his grip on her tighter than it is on me. How did I never notice this? I grit my teeth and delete the photos one by one, wishing I could delete these memories from my mind, too.
I inhale shakily and place my palm against the wall, trying my hardest to pull myself together. I won’t cry again. I won’t. I swallow down a sob and straighten my back. Brad doesn’t deserve my tears.
I look up when my phone buzzes on my desk, and my first thought is that it must be Brad. That he must be wondering why I haven’t come home. But it isn’t him — It’s Ash.
Ash:I found something promising. It might be nothing, but it might be something. Old records of keycard logging. If this is accurate, this guy was at work at the time of the murder. It can’t be right though… surely his lawyer never would have missed this?
Nyx:I’ll look into it. It might be something. If there’s just one crumb, we can follow it.
