Fiendish: A Twisted Fairytale (93 page)

In the background
, I vaguely heard the water come on in the bathroom. I cried out as I attempted to shift my body, feeling a rush of warmth between my legs. I didn’t need to look to see that I was most likely bleeding. I struggled to sit up, my body trembling as each movement sent new shockwaves through me, but I had to do this, for my baby I had to fight through the pain.

“Please
, be okay. Please, be okay,” I whispered to myself as I ran my hand over my stomach.

Seth walked back into the room wrapped in a towel still partially wet from his quick shower and stopped when he saw me.

“What are you doing, Cara Mia?”

“Please, tell me where Macy is and then leave us. Let me go. Don
’t make me do this.”

My sigh
t was blurry from the tears. My hands and arms shook, and doubt that I would be strong enough ran rapid through my mind. I tried to force myself to think about the lessons Alan had given me at the gun range. I knew Seth would come looking for me, and I had to be prepared because he had just proved that it would never be a fair fight. I’d bought a gun and learned how to use it, all the while hoping it would never come to this. The 9mm Beretta I’d practiced with now felt foreign in my hands. If he was scared, he didn’t show it. His face wore that stoic look that masked his true feelings.

“I can
’t do that. You’re my wife, and that’s my child you carry. You are coming home with me. End of discussion. Now put that down before you hurt yourself.”

“Seth, don
’t please, don’t make me do this,” I begged, swallowing hard.

My pulse raced
, the gun felt heavy. He took a step. I screamed as I pulled the trigger, but my shot went wild, hitting the door but grazing his arm. He stared at me, shocked that I had actually fired, but that shock soon gave way to anger. He came at me, and I fired again, and again, and again. Each time I squeezed the trigger, I thought of how he’d hurt me both physically and mentally. I thought about the baby I’d lost because of him. I thought about how he’d twisted and corrupted everything in my life until I didn’t know what was what anymore. I kept squeezing until all that remained was the clicking sound of the empty chamber. Seth dropped to his knees. Blood poured from his chest. The gun fell from my hands. I sat on the bed, shaking.

“Why, why couldn
’t you just let me go?” I whispered.

He collapsed and I found myself rushing to his side. I pressed my hands to his chest in an attempt to stop his bleeding.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I sobbed as he coughed up blood.

He was dying.
I had shot him; I had shot the father of my child, the man that despite it all I still loved on some level. But he needed help, help I couldn’t give him. I wasn’t enough.

I heard a loud crash then footsteps running up my stairs,
and moments later, Alan burst into my room.

“Holy shit, Izzy
! What happened?”

“I shot him!” I cried
. “I begged him to go, to just let me go, but he wouldn’t! He’s dying; I killed him.”

I cradled Seth in my arms, holding him tightly as he took his final breath. After that
, things happened in a blur. Alan was wrapping a blanket around me, pulling me away from Seth. The paramedics had arrived, and two worked on trying to revive him while the other attended to me. They all kept asking me what happened, but the darkness was surrounding me. I was tired, this was all too much. I succumbed to it.

Epilogue

***2 years later***

“How are you today?”

I continued to look out the window while Dr. Carr waited for my answer. I really hated that question, I hated even more on this day, the anniversary of his death.  I heard the gentle tapping of her pen against the notepad in her lap.

Sighing loudly, I turned to f
ace her. “Better than last year.”

“Did you stop by the cemetery this morning?”

“Of course. Why do you insist on asking me questions you already know the answer to?”

“Do I know the answer?” she aske
d in her annoyingly even tone.

I plopped down in the cushy club chair placed directly in front of her. She stared at me with her brown eyes from behind her square rimmed glasses that sat atop her flat, chocolate nose.
Her shoulder length, dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun today, and her attire was the same as always: business casual with neutral colors. She looked at me wearing the same neutral expression that met me every visit.

“Yes
, you do, because it’s what I did last year, and we discussed that possibility last week,” I replied finally.

“And how do your family and friends feel about you doing that?”

“Again a question you already know the answer to; honestly, what am I paying you for?”

“You are paying me to make you see your choices for what they are, not for what you want them to be.”

I’d been seeing Dr. Carr for the last year and a half. Everyone insisted on it when I spiraled into a deep depression after everything was over. Mitch’s father gave me her name as a recommendation. She was one of his students and finished at the top of her class.

My parents stayed with me during the investigation. After talking to the police over and over, having to relive that fateful day more times than I
’d wish to, I was finally cleared of any wrong doing. I’d tried to send them both back to Greece once it was all over. Instead, Dad went to settle things up and Mom stayed behind. I’d wanted to be alone, but she wouldn’t leave me. So I’d resorted to locking myself in my room. I’d spent days locked away, not eating, not sleeping, just lying in the room I’d shared with him.

I
’d just wanted to fade away. My friend and her family looked at me like I was a pariah, and my own parents couldn’t hide the shame and disappointment in their eyes. I didn’t want to face that or talk to anyone, so I’d hidden away. Mom was frantic by day three, threatening to call the cops and have me committed if I didn’t open the door. I eventually came out, and my contact with people was limited to just Mom for the most part. She forced me to go to the doctor, and I’d been admitted back to the hospital for a few days due to dehydration. After that, I didn’t answer the phone and didn’t go out unless absolutely necessary.

Rolling my eyes, I got up and walked back to the window.
A year and a half of therapy and she’d barely scratched the surface on my relationship with Seth. Not for her lack of trying, there just were some things I couldn’t voice out loud, not even to Dr. Carr, someone who claimed she wouldn’t pass judgment. They all passed judgment.

“I buried h
im alone. My parents were there but only out of some misplaced obligation they felt towards me. Malcolm showed up at the house afterwards, but no one had any real sympathy for my loss. Not that I expected them to considering who he was. I feel guilty mourning him; I felt like they expected me not to. So no, they don’t approve of or understand why I would visit his grave, so it’s not a topic we discuss.”

“You
say that in the present tense…as if you still feel that guilt and as if you still mourn him,” she commented.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I killed him. I took his life,
so of course I feel guilty about that. If I didn’t, that would make me…” I stopped.

“That would make you like him?”

I nodded. I ran my fingers through my short, boy-cut hair. I’d chopped it off the day my dad left. Looking at myself in the mirror, remembering Seth’s obsession with it, made me want it gone; I’d kept it short ever since.

“Let
’s talk about something else,” she said. She always changed the topic when she sensed I was going to lock up on her. “Malcolm. He forgave you before Macy did.”

I looked at her confused. T
hat was an odd topic switch.

Malcolm was there beside my bed when I woke up in the hospital the second day. I
’d thought he was there to say Macy hadn’t survived, or to yell at me, but he just held my hand, and sat with me, not saying anything.

Macy was found in exactly where I
’d told the police she’d be, Seth’s old house. She was dehydrated, beaten pretty badly, had a broken arm, and dislocated shoulder, but alive. It was hard to face her and her family knowing I was the reason she was taken. I knew my actions put them all in harm’s way and that no amount of saying ‘I’m sorry’ would make what happened better, but it was all I could offer. I kept waiting to be questioned on the things down there, but I’d learned he’d cleared out everything but the cell.

After the invest
igation was over, Mal would come around to check on me even though I wouldn’t answer the door or his calls. I would listen to his messages, and I appreciated that he was concerned. I had caused that family enough grief. I couldn’t imagine they would be happy with him talking to me, so I’d never responded. He kept trying; he never gave up.

“How are things with him?”

“Fine, why?”

“Are you still keeping him at a distance?”

“Yes,” I replied, turning to look at her. “I’m damaged goods, even today, two years later. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t still be coming here. Even though Macy and her family have forgiven me for what I did, I can’t go there with Malcolm. Relationships are something I’m not ready for now…or ever. You know this.”

“No, I don
’t. You are twenty-eight years old, a little young to become a spinster don’t you think? Besides, what I’ve gathered from our sessions is that he’s made it very clear how he feels about you. Macy, Mitch, and the rest of her family have forgiven you and understand your actions now. Everyone wants you happy. Everyone but you.”

They had eventually forgiven me, something I didn
’t think would happen. Mom would let me know that Momma D would call to check up on me; they’d accepted my apologies. Momma D even sent me a heartfelt letter. I did respond to her, in writing. That was easier that way to express my feelings without worrying I would say the wrong thing. The only person that hadn’t tried to reach out to me was Macy, and I wasn’t going to push. She had made it very clear she needed time away from me. It had been a little over four months after everything happened when I came home from my prenatal appointment to find Macy waiting outside the gate. I remember my hands shaking as I drove up the driveway with her following behind me. I was scared to get out of the car, but knew I couldn’t sit inside it forever
.

*

“Hey, um, what are you doing here?” I’d asked.

“Yeah sorry for just showing up, but I wasn
’t sure if you would take my call. Mal said you don’t really answer the phone often.”

“Mom answers when she
’s here.”

“Yeah
, that’s what he said. Look, can we talk?” she’d asked.

She shifted her weight from side to side like she was nervous. We
’d never been uncomfortable around each other, but the air between us was filled with an awkwardness that made me ache over the loss of our friendship.

“Yeah, sure.”

Macy surprised me by pulling me into a hug once we were inside. I was uncomfortable being touched, so I’d stood there stiff, waiting on her to let go. When she’d pulled away, I ‘d walked towards the living room, and she followed.

“How
’ve you been?” she’d asked.

“Depends on the day.
You?”

“I
’m good. Mitch took off work for like a month after the investigation and stuff was over. He didn’t want me out of his sight.”

“That
’s good;, I’m glad you had people there for you to take care of you.”

An awkward silence followed my statement. She hadn
’t talked to me for months, not that I blamed her, but it did make me wonder why she’d come now.

“
Being married to a plastic surgeon definitely has its benefits,” she’d said, giving a nervous laugh.

I only smiled in response.

“Lee, I’m sorry,” she’d whispered.

“For what?”

“Abandoning you. At first I was angry that you lied and covered for him for so long. Then I was upset over what he did to me, but Mitch reminded me, after I was healed, that you most likely had to endure a lot worse from him and for much longer. And then I remembered what he said that day. That you stayed with him…because of me. I felt like shit after that. You went through god knows what, and I was angry at you, for protecting me! How selfish is that? Then I didn’t know how to approach you since so much time had passed. So I’m sorry, and if you can’t forgive me, I understand. I just…wanted to let you know.”

“You don
’t have to be sorry. I would have abandoned me too. You could have died because of me…”

I
felt a tear roll down my cheek; I hadn’t cried since the day I’d shot him. I always felt like I should have, but something died with me that day as well, and I had just been numb ever sense. But being faced with Macy, the tears started and wouldn’t stop.