“You’re angry,” I say to provoke her. “That’s good.”
Her arm presses harder into my throat, so much so that I have slight trouble breathing.
She is so close, panting heavily, and the warm air from her lungs caresses my skin. She is roughly a head taller than me, and she makes an impression with her dark eyes and angry gaze. A feral lioness who is triggered.
“You have no right,” she says.
“It’s not about right,” I say through gritted teeth, because my throat hurts. “It’s about how much things have to be set right, how hard I’ll go after her.”
“As if you care about me,” she says derogatorily. “You hate me. And you do well to do so.”
“I don’t hate you,” I say.
“You’re a fucking liar yourself,” she shouts, pressing me with her body into the wall. “You despise me for lying, but all you do is lie to yourself.”
It gives me a stitch in my chest.
Because technically, she is right. I lie. More than I’d like. I do hate her. Parts of her. Things she does. But not all of her.
“What did Hedda do to you?” I ask to navigate the topic to the only relevant thing in all of this.
“I’m not telling you shit because you can’t be honest either,” she says and pushes herself off me and walks over to the massive window front, staring outside into the glowing Manhattan night.
I watch her for a moment.
It is a decision I don’t make consciously, but one my body makes for me.
“I don’t trust you,” I say. “I believe you were in my apartment, and you stole Cleopatra’s bracelet and the elephant skin from Fullerton. I am here to try to get close to you so you trust me enough to lower your guard around me.”
She doesn’t react at first.
“I’m vegan,” she finally says as she turns.
“Um—yes?” I say, not knowing where she's heading with it.
“I. Am. Vegan,” she says again, emphasizing every word. “I don’t do elephant skin or ivory or anything else that hurts animals. I love animals. I’d never be cruel to an animal. They deserve to be treated with love and respect.”
“Oh,” I say and gaze at her. My lips part as I realize what she just gave me.
She gave me a part of her humanity.
She loves animals.
“Hedda forced me to eat her pussy,” she suddenly says with a detached voice, leaning against the windows and pointing to the X on the wall. “She taught me how to fuck since I was twelve. I didn’t know better back then.”
I didn’t even realize I held my breath until my vision gets blurry. I gasp for air as I look at the woman who went through so much horror. All I want to do is seize her, hug her, and bring Hedda behind bars.
“Don’t pity me,” she says, looking at me with an icy look. “I don’t need nor want it.”
“I don’t pity you. I am sorry for everything that happened to you.” I say, and add, “Thank you for telling me all this. It must have been hard talking about all of this.”
She looks at me, and I see the humanity in her for one more second, before her mask slips back on.
“No, it’s not,” she says. “I don’t feel anything.”
This one sentence might have been the most honest she has ever been, and yet, it is a lie.
“You do feel,” I say. “You're just not letting yourself feel. Big difference.”
