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I know I need to have a conversation with Noelle at some point—one that won't end like the one yesterday. But in order to do that, I need to get myself in check, too.
I'll be the first to admit that lately I've been too volatile, about to blow from the smallest thing. And it's all because my reality has all but shattered.
Can this be fixed?
That's the most important question.
Yes, I'll talk to her. I will listen to her side. But can anything be saved? Can our marriage survive this?
Last week, if you had asked me, I would have told you that we could survive anything. But I would have never banked on Noelle being an entirely different person than the one I thought her to be.
She's…
What is she even?
A psychotic murderer? A rapist? A villainous mastermind?
There's no way to label her correctly because there is simply no way to put her in just one box. At this point, I can only admit that everything I'd known about her at the hacienda was real.
La diabla.
She wasn't nicknamed the she-devil for nothing.
If what she did to Ortega is any indication, she's not just some deranged killer.
She's cold, calculated, organized.
While she is led by emotions, she doesn't let them rule her.
Yet more than anything, there's a lack of remorse.
I don't know if it's a general trend, but she'd never once been sorry about what she's done. Just about being caught. And to top it all, she admitted she'd do it again. What does that say about her?
Yet things don't fit.
She's not some emotionless killer. She's not Bianca.
She's just…a brilliant strategist and an even better opportunist.
As I muse over my current situation, it takes me a moment to realize there's a car following me.
My first thought is to roll my eyes in a not again manner. But I soon realize who is following me.
"What the fuck," I mutter as I swerve to the right, stopping the car and slamming the door on my way out.
She exits her car, too, coming towards me with a fierce expression on her face.
"What the fuck are you doing, Noelle?" I demand as I come toe to toe with her.
She's wearing high heels, and with the added height, her head reaches my chin. Still, it's quite interesting to see her wear such high heels.
"What the hell were you doing there?" she jabs her finger in my chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I frown.
"Sisi," she spits the name.
"What?"
