And then I run.
Every lunch café and coffee shop that line this part of the Riverwalk is dark, closed sign on display. Chic boutiques and glamorous bakeries offering delectables like macarons and expensive cupcakes blur through my tears as I run. I turn down the next street I come to, searching for any sign of life. I keep running but think to pull out my phone to check if it’s still working. The screen is blank and it isn’t responding to me, but maybe that’s because my hands are wet or the facial recognition doesn’t recognize me with soaked hair. I want to scream and throw something, but instead, I keep jogging.
By the time I’ve reached somewhere I recognize, I realize I’m only two blocks from my hotel and about the same to Dean and Jesika’s building. I slow to a walk, letting my feet trace the familiar steps. The patterns and cracks along this part of the sidewalk ground me as my mind starts to relax, and I begin to think straight. I cycle my phone on and off, and by thetime it powers on again, the home screen pops up like everything is fine.
I stop right at the same corner where I stood with Bishop, watching Dean get into his Audi before work that fateful morning before the attack.
I glance up, then shake my head when it feels like I’m living in a flashback. I’m having déjà vu as it looks like Dean is standing right by his car in the garage at this very moment. He seems to be on a phone call, and I wonder if it’s Jesika he’s trying to reach. Does he worry about her? I don’t recall him ever calling me, sick with worry.
I step closer to my husband on instinct, every part of me drawn to him out of muscle memory.
I miss him.Somuch.
Without thinking, I move my legs closer. I’m hovering at the edge of the garage, just a few steps away from the man I love. I can feel his presence; something about him calls to me. I recognize that the pull he has over me isn’t healthy, and still, I’m helpless to it.
My eyes dart to a red gas can stored along the side wall of the garage and a bottle of charcoal fire starter next to it. Dean is fumbling with something in his car, and just as I bend to check the weight of the gas can, Dean fires up the Audi. I nearly jump and drop the can, but I compose myself and then smell the familiar scent of gasoline in my nose. Thinking quickly, I soak the end of my scarf in the flammable liquid and set the can back where I found it. I move slowly, my steps stealthy like a fox as I sidle up along the Audi. It’s wild that I can get so close to him in the shadows.I’ve been right here all along, honey,I think.
I wrap the end of my scarf around one wrist and finger the fringe on the other end. I spent so many of my waking breaths living for this man for so many years. I just wish he’d talk to me, but something in me recognizes that we’ll never have that oldeasiness between us again. He only shows his soft side to Jesika now.
How funny it is to feel everything for someone who gave you nothing.
I tighten the scarf in my grip, lining up the gasoline-soaked section so it sits directly between each of my palms.
Dean must catch a flash of something in his side mirror because he turns his neck, but not far enough around to actually catch sight of me.
“Jesssika?”he slurs.
I freeze, unable to breathe. The urge to pretend, even just for a moment, that I am still his is powerful. I have to fight back the instinct to wrap him in my arms and take solace in the warmth of his familiar body.
“Jesssss?”his word ends on a long hiss.
My lips twist into a snarl. I will never be her, pretending even just for a moment is playing with fire. I wait for him to go back to whatever it is he’s digging for. One last step and I’m just at his shoulder, my vision clear as I see Dean bent over the center console of his Audi while he crushes up small white pills.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.I told you those pills would be the death of you, Dean.” A Cheshire grin overcomes me.
As if moving in slow motion, Dean turns. His reactions seem blunted, and at first, it’s like he doesn’t even recognize me. He looks stoned. It must be his pain pills he’s crushing to put up his nose. As realization dawns on him that it’s me, the woman he abandoned for a new life, his features crumple and contort with confusion.
And it’s then I remember how much I hate him.
How much he devalued me and made me feel like a failure.
“S-shhae?”His words are slurred, and his eyes are glassy.
“Ah Dean, do you have to make it so easy?”
“W-what’re ya doin’ here?”
“Giving you what you deserve. I always knew this day was coming. You were always so selfish, ya know?.” A tidal wave of rage wells inside me.
“W-wait—it waz you? Where’z Jes?” He seems alarmed now, like it’s taken his brain a few minutes to catch up to the risk of the current situation.
Without another word, I wrap the gasoline-soaked scarf around his mouth. It’s surprising how little he struggles. I wonder then if I could have overpowered him all these years. Dean’s control over me was wide-reaching, though now, I can’t help but think it was only my perception of his power over me that maintained that level of control. I was always as strong and capable as I am right now. It just took until this moment to prove it to myself.
I’ve loved him. I’ve hated him. And now, I’ve become indifferent to him.
Dean is tearing at the scarf, but I tighten my hold, feeling his strength give out as I dominate his drug-addled body.
Within moments, he is lifeless. As soon as the light goes out in his eyes and his body slumps, I loosen the scarf and back away. Tears overwhelm my eyes, and my limbs tremble with adrenaline as I look at the situation I’ve created. I made them my pawns the last four weeks, exacted some sense of closure, and maybe got a little modicum of revenge while I did it. I feel satisfied, like an oppressive weight has been lifted. Suddenly, the rain clouds have parted, and I’m eager to move on to my next adventure.
