I had hit a nerve.
“Help me out, Scarlet. That’s the least you could do since you’re going to kill me.”
“Hear that, Stu? She already knows she’s going to die.” She turned to face Stu before walking around the desk and back into the light. When she stopped, she was a foot from the bed.
“You don’t have to kill me. You could just let me go.” I didn’t have it in me to beg for my life, but I had it in me to at least ask.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t have Stu kill you?” She crossed her arms again and leaned on one foot, the other leg splayed out to the side.
Stu looked down and shuffled from foot to foot before looking up and meeting my gaze. His eyes betrayed he hadn’t contemplated killing me himself. They hoped we would both die in the car crash.
But I didn’t. And I was the loose end, threatening Scarlet’s becoming a multi-millionaire.
“Because you don’t want that on your conscious.”
“I just killed my husband. Well, Stu did. I will sleep well tonight.”
“I don’t think Stu wants it on his conscious.”
“Stu will be fine. He’s killed his fair share of Iraqi soldiers. One more bitch of a woman isn’t an issue.” She glanced his way, and he struggled to meet her gaze but finally did with a firm jaw and veins showing on his temple.
Her use of the word bitch was pissing me off. If either of us in this room was a bitch, it was her. If she thinks I’m a bitch, though, maybe I should start acting like one.
“So you had plenty of step daddies. How many raped and molested you?”
“Fuck you, Doc. Stay out of my head.”
“All of them? While your mother watched?”
“Stop it before I slap the shit out of you.” She moved closer, towering over me, and shook her finger.
“That was it. You mother let all of her new step daddies fuck you and so you use the shit out of the men in your life.”
She slapped me. Hard.
My head had already been throbbing and now I felt like church bells were ringing in my head. The light from the lamp seemed blurred and shot sharp points of light toward me.
I tasted blood on the corner of my lip.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You are so fucking wrong. You aren’t so smart after all. I can’t believe Dirk fell for you. You have to be too old to be any good in bed. I have no idea what he saw in you.”
“You’re awfully defensive, Scarlet. Someone that will kill their husband for money has to have something wrong with them.”
“Only two of them molested me. The third one raped me. My mother reported all of them. She was a saint who deserved better.” She struck me again with her open palm.
Blood trickled down my chin, which I wiped at with my free hand.
“Just fucking shut up,” she whispered.
“So, why did you turn out so twisted, Scarlet?”
“Twisted? Tell the asshole who molested me when I was eight that he was twisted. The next one at eleven. The third one who raped me at fourteen. They were twisted.” Her eyes blazed with anger.
My stomach tightened as I imagined the horror she must have lived through.
“At least your mom reported them.” I said. My tone was less confrontational. Her confession hit me just as hard as her slaps. Compassion welled up unbidden.
