I lunge clumsily for the diary. Before I even know what I’m writing, out it comes in one long furious scribble, like I was born trying to say it.
I find myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway has been lost.
No one understands how this feels. How lonely it is. But Bill Campbell did. Maybe Susan was a cheating scumbag, and Bill did everything he could to make their life work. Maybe Bill worked a job he didn’t like, fled his fucking hometown, and built a life Susan wasn’t even grateful for.
I bolt up, blood pumping hot and fast. I grab the mug and hurl it against the wall, feeling like I’m about to fucking explode. I stomp over to the diary and scribble one last thought.
Maybe Susan died because he just couldn’t fucking take it any longer.
Teehee.
Hi Andy! It’s me (Joe’s bitch wife).
I hiccup into my knee and fumble for more wine.
Did you know that Joe isn’t his real name? Did you know he used to have shiny blond hair before we dyed it black and chopped it off in a nasty truck-stop bathroom?
Teehee. It takes me a while to tap the message into my phone. The letters are like naughty children who won’t sit still. I hiccup again. What was it Emily said about the truth? Something, something.Don’t be afraid of the truth…. Be afraid of believing your lies.
Well, this is the truth. The hideous, filthy truth. Out it finally comes. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.
Maybe you don’t believe me, Andy. I know you don’t like me. None of Joe’s friends have ever liked me. I’m not perfect. I know that. And my darling black-haired husband? Well, he’s not so perfect, either…or nice.
Want to know why, Andy?
I sit up straight and listen. The house is silent and still, waiting, waiting, waiting. Joe is downstairs packing his shit and probably bitching about me tohis new girlfriendwhile I’m up here unraveling all his filthy secrets. Teehee.
My marriage is done. It’s over.
But not quite.
Finish it off, Lizzy,the house urges me.
So I do.
Joe left my little sister, Sarah, for me.
I hesitate, holding my phone in the palm of my hand as the walls and floors begin to tremble. The house is stirring. The house is angry on my behalf. It hates Joe.Hates him.
Get him. Get him,the house roars.Make him pay!
I tap the final words out and hit send.
And ten days later, I think he killed her.
Chapter 32
Dear Andy,
I chew my lip as the pen hovers over the blank page. I’m going to send this letter to him soon but not tonight. Tonight, it’s enough to just write it all down. Cathartic, even.
Joe sank into an almost catatonic depression after my sister’s death. To this day, I can’t speak about her without him going into a very still and very silent rage. For years, I put it down to grief.
Butwasit grief?
Or was it guilt?
