Irvin is not the man I thought he was. He has a problem; he killed these innocent people.
But he’s a skilled killer—why would he attack Winter? Why would he spare her?
Maybe because she’s my best friend.
Am I capable of loving a murderer? Someone who kills for fun—or who has no regard for human life? I tried to justify his “kills only if threatened” rule, but now he’s pushed too far.
I feel filthy—like I want to bathe in bleach. I feel stupid. Wrong. Broken. Blind. I let him touch me. I let him fuck me. I fell in love with a monster.
I tear clothes from the hangers, tossing them on the floor. I smash a shoe against the mirror. Glass shatters across the carpet.
He lied!
He trapped me!
He killed them!
I love him!
What the fuck is wrong with me?!
I clutch my chest, gasping. Tears pour down my face.
Once I catch my breath, I gather the IDs and stare at them. This isn’t right. Why would he hurt these people? What would be his motive?
I yank open the drawers on the island. Pictures of the victims. Shot. Bloody. Angled strangely. I puke again in the nearest trash can.
I look up. How did the clothes get on the floor? I shake my head.
I need out. I rush to the bedroom. I can’t let Irvin know I discovered he’s the killer. I wanted to be wrong about him, wanted to see past his obsession. But I can’t. Not only is he obsessed with me, he’s obsessed with killing.
I pace. Sit. Pace again.
Do I turn him in?ShouldI turn him in?
If I do, I betray him—and myself. But what about me? Would staying silent make me a bad person? Do I love him enough not to betray him? Should I choose him or those innocent people? If I keep quiet, we move on like nothing happened. Or I turn him in, and I’m free from this life.
I married another Emerson. My parents’ killer. He didn’t care.
This is too much. Am I too loyal to Irvin, too blinded to see what he’s done? I don’t know who I am anymore. If I lovesomeone like him, what does that make me? Will it make me a monster?
Footsteps approach. I rush to the closet, throwing the IDs inside and slamming the door.
Irvin walks in, hair damp, and strokes my cheek. I try not to flinch, try not to push him away. I stare at the man I thought I knew, and he smiles back at me.
“I heard something crash in here. Are you okay?”
I fight back tears. “I tore up the closet trying to find a shoe Lyrical let me borrow,” I lie.
“A shoe?”
“Yes. It was her favorite.”
“Why don’t you buy her a new pair?”
“It’s a special edition.”
“Get the popcorn started. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
