Page 368 of Mad Girl

It should’ve been Bree sitting here, in my place, all along.

That night, you searched the Phoenix House high and low. You called Bree’s phone, but she didn’t answer. Hours later, you were told she left the party on foot, and Hal picked her up. You were led to believe I sped off into the night after you said those awful things to me, leaving you both behind.

I confessed to the crime. I claimed sole responsibility for taking that man’s life. Multiple times, I looked you in the eye and told you I did it. I killed a person. I’ve even written it in these letters. I’ve called myself a killer.

But I lied about that, too.

Lied about all of it.

For once, I wasn’t responsible.

And yet, ultimately, it felt like I was.

I hadn’t stayed home and waited like you asked. I’d dragged Bree to that party. I’d broken Bree’s heart—broken yours and Michael’s, too.

I’d broken everything—including that man. His name was Daniel Prichard. Just thirty years old. A beloved high school history teacher. His students called him Mr. P.

Daniel Prichard was the teacher they’d featured on the local news the night of the election. He wanted his students to witness that historical moment in person. A woman, finally named mayor of our great city. “I don’t just want them to learn about history,” he’d said. “I want them to be part of it.”

And they were, thanks to him.

Daniel had attended many of Libby’s rallies. On that monumental night she’d won the election, he’d stood in the same room with the girl who’d end his life prematurely just four months later.

Talk about a cruel twist of fate, right?

But maybe the cruelest twist of all was this: Daniel had a wife who was pregnant with their first child when he died. She gave birth to a baby girl six days after his death. A baby Daniel never got to meet. A child he’ll never get to know.

I didn’t know any of that at the time, didn’t recognize him as the teacher from the election when I watched Daniel die. I only remembered when I watched the local news replay his interview on TV two days later.

That night, with my stomach churning, I jumped up, ran to the side of the road, and vomited on the sidewalk. When I lifted my hands, they were covered in the man’s blood. A sob escaped my throat as I wiped my hands down the front of your jacket, then wiped my mouth with your sleeve.

When I stepped back to observe the grisly scene before me, I thought about what would happen when the first responders arrived. They’d pronounce the man dead. Bree would be identified as the driver who’d recklessly mowed him to the ground. The Harrises would be embroiled in a huge scandal, the likes of which they’d never known. I could picture the headline: Mayor Harris’s daughter kills local runner. Bree would probably be taken to the police station, maybe go to jail. Though accidental, her crime would turn the Harrises’ lives—their whole family—upside down.

And you.

It wasn’t your fault, Casey, but if I know you—and I definitely do—you’d think it was. It wouldn’t matter that I was far more culpable than you ever were. You’d blame yourself for the whole thing.

If only you’d stayed home like I asked…

If only you hadn’t left with Hal…

If only you hadn’t forced me to stay in and make up with Bree…

It never would’ve happened at all.

“He’ll be good and settled by now, and here you’ll come…to wreck everything. But go on. Go wreck his life like you’ve wrecked mine.”

I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk you thinking your piece-of-shit dad was right. Couldn’t risk the very real possibility that Michael might blame you for wrecking his family, in addition to taking me.

It’s like my dad said that time: “There’s what you wanted, and then there’s what you can’t live without—what you’ll do anything to protect. And it makes you a little crazy. It makes you do things you never dreamed you’d do.”

Like giving up your freedom when it’s finally—finally—within your reach.

I grabbed Bree’s arms. “You need to leave. Get out of here.”

“What?” Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the man’s blood on the grille, at the black pool of his blood still spreading across the pavement.

I shook her. Grabbed her face. Waited for her eyes to focus on mine. “Walk a few blocks. Call Hal to pick you up. Tell him you left the party on foot. You were never here.”