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“Is poor Isobel going to run away now? You think you can just escape your problems like that? By running?” Catrina made a tutting noise. “That’s a coward’s way of coping. Then again, your mom took the easy way out too. Hanging herself from the ceiling fan like she did.” She shook her head. “And she was what, thirty years old?”
“You’re almost twenty-five now, aren’t you? Everyone always said you’re so much like her. It’s cute you try to fight it but eventually you’re going to have to give into the inevitable. Frankly, I think Richard was glad to go before he had to see you institutionalized again.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Isobel spun back around and flew at her stepmother. Her hands wrapped around Catrina’s throat. She slammed the older woman down against the counter. “Shut up, shut up!” Rage like she’d never known burned so hot, Isobel could barely breathe.
Poison. The woman was poison.
Every day her insults chipped away at Isobel. First when she was just a little girl. All throughout adolescence. Even when her father was dying. Still every single day, Catrina never let up. And now to find out she was actively undermining her recovery, trying to trigger her old demons—!
Isobel screamed and squeezed harder.
Catrina smiled at her at first, even while she was choking. Like she was laughing at Isobel, even in this.
But as Isobel kept squeezing, finally fear came into Catrina’s eyes. Catrina’s hands flailed, trying to latch onto Isobel’s wrists and pull her off.
Isobel was stronger, though. She felt fucking triumphant. Catrina would never torment her again.
But then she blinked.
What was she—
She looked down in horror at her hands.
Her hands that were around another person’s throat.
Choking the life out of her.
Isobel let go of Catrina and stumbled backwards.
Catrina fell to the floor, hoarsely gasping in huge gulps of air between coughing fits.
Holy Jesus, what had she just done?
Isobel looked at her hands in disbelief. Had she really almost just… Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
“They’ll put you away for this,” Catrina gasped, still clutching her throat.
Isobel turned and ran out of the kitchen.
Run.
She had to get out of here.
Run.
Right now.
Catrina would call the police any minute. They’ll put you away. Catrina hated her. And Isobel had just given her stepmother the perfect opportunity to get rid of her for good.
An attempted murder charge.
Isobel felt sick as she fled upstairs to get her purse and car keys.
She was about to pick up her phone to toss it in her purse when she stopped at the last second. It was easy for people to track phones, right?
Shit, was she really thinking like that? Like a fugitive?
She looked toward the ceiling. How had everything gotten fucked sideways so quickly? She shook her head and took a quick breath in, trying to steady herself. There was no time. No time for thinking. No time for anything.
