“I met him before you did,” she points at me. “We were paired together in a Mythology class in high school. While the other idiots in our class were making fun of everything, Dash understood the deeper meaning of everything. He could see the web of life woven between us. He knew the Fates brought us together. Our lives were intertwined.”
“If the Fates brought you together, why did he ask me out?”
She pushes back a stray lock of hair. “He wanted to know what else was in the world. I encouraged him to shop around because I knew he’d choose me when it came right down to it. We were destined to be together. I might have to watch him pick the wrong woman, but he’d do right by me in the end. After you broke up with him, I thought he’d come to his senses, but he kept pining over you. So, I pushed him to get you out of his system. I told him if he would just do it with you already, he wouldn’t want you anymore.”
I freeze with her confession. “What are you talking about?”
“Your first time,” she snaps her fingers in my face. “Keep. Up! I know he’s a veryvigorouslover. You’re welcome.”
“What the hell?”
“I helped give you a little push to finally become a woman,” Dr. Crazy Pants shakes her head. “I knew when Dash got a taste of the wrong woman. He’d finally choose the right one - me. He said you wouldn’t go with him willingly, so I procured some… relaxation medicine.”
“You mean date rape drugs. You gave him drugs so he could rape me,” I point at her.
“Date rape drugs, relaxation medicine,” she rolls her eyes. “Po-tay-toe. Po-tah-toe.”
Rage boils up from the depth of my soul. “You’re a fucking monster.”
“Carolina, we talked about this,” she clucks her tongue at me. “Deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out.”
I don’t do as she tells me to. And it’s then I notice the scratches on her face. Cat claw-sized scratches.
“What happened to your face?” I point. “You know, besides being a murderer.”
Her shark smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, I can’t exactly kill your family without taking out that cat you swear you don’t love.”
“Inigo? What did you do to him?”
“I grabbed him while you were on your date with that doctor,” Dr. Crazy Pants sniffs. “I locked him up, and he’ll starve to death. Slowly.”
I bark a laugh. “Um. No. He won’t. He’s safe and sound back at my place.”
She pauses to consider that Inigo is no longer her captive. “Just as well. When I’m done here, I’ll head back to D.C. and finish what I started. I thought of much better ways to torture that mangy furball after I left town.”
Dr. Crazy Pants already went too far, but this pushes me over the edge. No one messes with my cat. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Keres turns away from me just as I launch myself at her, catching her on the side, sending her gun skittering across the floor. It comes to a stop against a chunk of concrete.
She screams, claws for my hair, and tries to throw me off of her back, but as Tatiana pointed out - I’m freakishly tall. I wrap my arm around her neck, trying to choke her out. Keres pushes back, causing both of us to fall. She lands right on top of me.
It knocks the breath out of me for a split second. The matte gray of the gun winks at me from its landing spot. I bounce to my feet and make a break for it, but she gets there faster. She grabs the weapon and whirls around to fire. I dodge to the side, trying to avoid the bullet, but something hits me in the side. Hard.
Once again, the breath is knocked out of me. I come down hard on a pile of concrete rocks. I grab one in each hand, turn, and face the woman who has been the damn puppet master of my entire adult life.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she points the gun at me.
I put one foot flat on the ground. “Wouldn’t do what?”
“I wouldn’t get up if I were you,” Dr. Crazy Pants shakes her head. “You’re just making this harder.”
“No, I’m making it easier,” I smile at her as I pull into a crouch.
“Suit yourself.”
Keres brings her weapon up to fire. But there’s something about me she doesn’t know. My pitching arm is still lightning fast. And I had plenty of practice catching balls in the infield and throwing out a runner at home plate. I whip back my right arm and let a concrete rock fly as I spring to the side. The rock lands with a loud clatter over her left shoulder.
She tilts her head with a sad expression. “Poor thing. Even your softball days are behind you. Can’t even hit a woman-sized target.”
