"We don't have to do anything." I backed away. "I'm not agreeing to that. He's been through enough. I have to go."
"Daisy, if you don't sign these papers?—"
"What? You'll ruin me? Go for it, Max. There's not much else you can do. I'm already your caged bird."
I went to the Theater, still in disbelief that he'd asked me to sign a restraining order for Gatsby. All of what he'd claimed was a lie. Gatsby had never hurt me. It was me who continued to hurt him.
My heart was beating hard and fast as we pulled up tothe Theater. I hadn't been back sincethatnight. We'd had all our rehearsals at the studio, but now that it was getting closer to opening night, we had to start dancing on the stage. My hands were clammy, and I was sweating through my clothes as I walked in and looked around. Everything was just as it was. My fellow dancers were filing in around me, laughing and chatting. Feeling as if I'd accidentally let slip what I'd done, I rushed to my dressing room and threw open the door and turned the light on.
It was just as it had been before that night. The smell of sweet pea filled my nose.
No cleaner.
I stepped inside and closed the door. I examined every inch, looking for blood or hair or other evidence of my crime, but there was nothing. It wasn't even overly clean. Gatsby had somehow managed to cover up what I'd done to a scary level.
While I was slightly more comfortable that my secret would remain that way for now, I was still on edge. Max hadn't invited himself and Lydia because he wanted to watch me dance. He'd wanted to make sure I didn't speak to Gatsby.
Max had my phone turned off, and his threats were enough to keep me complacent for now. I couldn't leave until I had a plan.
I needed to talk to Gatsby.
I dressed and went out with the other dancers to run through the show. There was a shadowy figure above us in the balcony. I recognized the form in an instant.
He'd come.
My hope soared but was dashed an instant later when Max came into the room, Lydia in tow. They sat in the seats and I quickly masked my emotions, burying everything deep down. My mind went to autopilot while I danced, and onlywhen we were finished and heading to change, did it turn back on.
I spotted Max backstage and stiffened. I looked around, searching for Gatsby. Was he still watching? I prepared for Max to come over, but he waved to someone else. Relief washed over me until I saw a man go to him. Max put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. My curiosity and nervousness sent my legs forward, going to them.
"Hello," I greeted the small group. Max and the man turned. The man looked... rough. He hadn't shaved in days, his hair was unbrushed and his eyes bloodshot.
"Daisy," Max greeted. "Clarke, this is my fiancée. Daisy, I want you to meet Clarke."
The upset man shook my hand.
“Hi.” The man sniffled. "I'm?—"
"Clarke is Lilly's husband. He works here."
The rock that had been lifted from my stomach with the clean dressing room dropped fast and hard back into my belly so quickly I lost my breath.
"Lilly?"
"Yes, she's—she's missing, you know, going on a month now." Clarke's eyes began to water. I pursed my lips and nodded.
"We heard. I am so sorry. Have there been any leads?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. The police don't want to help, so I'm putting up flyers. It's hard because I'm the only one looking for her, but I need all the overtime here I can get to pay for a private detective. Something ain't right. Lilly wouldn't just run off without telling me."
I stood there, listening to a desperate, heartbroken, scared man talking about his wife's disappearance, knowing that with just three words, I could stop his pain and let him begin healing.
I did it.
I killed her.
I bit my tongue. I wanted to confess, but also, the need to preserve my own life overrode that want to put an end to this man's suffering.
"Yes, we know Lilly. I believe Daisy and Lilly are friends, aren't you two?" Max interrupted my thoughts.
