Page 11 of Betrayed (Alternate Ending)

Benny rolled his eyes. "Dude! You're on crack! You think she won't get up on that stand and spill her guts? She can't fucking wait to nail us, you especially."

"Yeah? Well, dead people don't testify." Jase marched over to the kitchenette and tossed his cigarette in the sink.

Chapter 58

On the second day of Brook’s return, Clark followed her around as she took suitcases from the closet and packed her things. The argument continued until she wanted to scream.

“I know what I did was wrong,” Clark said. “But you did wrong, too. You’re not little Miss Perfect, you know.” His eyes shone with unshed tears. “You're breaking my heart, here! I'm trying to be reasonable but you're just determined to destroy our marriage. I don't understand it. I don’t see why we can’t just forgive each other and go on like before."

"I'm not asking your forgiveness, Clark." Brook squeezed her hands into fists until her knuckles whitened, fighting the urge to strike out.

"If I’m willing to forgive you, why can’t you forgive me? I’ve learned my lesson. My god, have I ever learned my lesson!”

“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for? Being raped by the men you sent? Being rescued by the kindest man I’ve ever met? No, Clark, I doubt if I’ll ever be able to forgive you. But, if I do, it’ll be because I don’t want to carry the bitterness around in my heart any longer, and not because you deserve it. Face it, Clark. Our marriage is a joke. It’s over.” Brook shook from barely contained rage and heartache.

Clark eyes flashed anger.

“I’m not sure even now you can grasp the horror I went through. Open your ears and listen to me. I was raped, Clark! Again and again. And I was beaten. I was almost killed! They were getting me ready to take me out and kill me. I’m not guessing. They told me so! Then I managed to get away. I fell down a ravine and got lost in the forest. I only had a shirt on, no shoes, nothing. I went through hell! How many times am I going to have to explain all this to you? You’re not an ignorant man. You understand English. And to top it off, it was all because of you! If it weren’t for pure luck and the kindness of Lance, I’d be dead right now.”

Clark slammed his hand onto the dresser. “Lance! You know, you keep bringing him up. All this time I was worrying my ass off about you, and you were up there in a cozy little love nest banging a complete stranger. What about that, Brook?”

Brook rounded on Clark, fire burning in her eyes. “Shut up! You make it sound filthy and vulgar and cheap. I won’t stand for it! It wasn’t like that at all. The man saved my life, Clark. He not only kept me from dying, he gave me new reasons to be glad I’m alive. You could never understand it no matter what I say. There's no point in discussing it. I’m through!”

Brook’s face was flushed. She refused to allow Clark to reduce her love for Lance to a base animal act. He was trying to shame her and she resented it. “Besides, there is no way you can equate what you did with what I did, hard as you might try, Clark. There’s just no way.”

The phone rang and Clark pressed the speaker button "What?"

"Erin Glass from CNW, Mr. Parrish. We'd like to ask you and your wife some questions."

Clark disconnected from the call and unplugged the phone from the wall. Downstairs the extension immediately began ringing. “Great, they’ve found our home number. Ain’t life grand!”

Brook carried her suitcases downstairs and placed them near the garage door. She then entered the den and began sorting through paperwork, photos, and mementos, paying special attention to the scrapbooks and journals from her youth. These she slipped into a portfolio to take along when she left.

The phone rang endlessly, but she let the calls go through to the answering machine. She didn't know where Clark was, just that he was somewhere inside the house. Probably drinking.

Brook intended to be thorough. She would take everything that meant anything at all to her. She would come back only once, for the things she’d invariably forget, or that were too large to take with her now.

She reminded herself she should probably call a lawyer, which made her recall her cell phone. Digging it from her battered purse, she found the charger and plugged it in. After all these months, she knew she would find it loaded with desperate voicemail and texts from her family, and she was right. A message flashed on the screen that her inbox was full and that she needed to delete some information before being able to use the feature. She wasn’t strong enough to hear those heartbreaking calls just yet, so ignored them for now. They would have to wait for another time. She left the phone charging where it sat on the desk.

After she finished in the den, Brook carried a small box out and set it near the garage entry beside her suitcases. She took an empty box from the closet and began a cursory walk through the first floor, picking up small mementos and leaving others. Clark leaned forlornly against the fireplace, a drink in his hand, and a glazed look in his eye. He watched her move purposefully as she dismantled their life together. "You know, the media is camped out at the gates. They'll swoop down on you if you try to leave."

Brook shrugged. "I won't be done until late anyway. I still have a lot of stuff to sort through."

Clark snorted a laugh. "They'll wait."

She turned her back on him.

Working doggedly, Brook was surprised to end up with relatively little she wished to keep from their marriage. Clark drank steadily throughout the day. He always held his liquor well, but it had to be taking a toll on him.

She stopped to fix a late lunch. As it was cooking, she opened the window to the warm, fresh afternoon breeze. A thought occurred to her and she stepped into the front room. "Where's Rachel? Did you give her the day off?"

"I let her go a long time ago," Clark said. "I've been fending for myself since you've been gone." He allowed a sorrowful tone to creep into his voice.

Brook frowned, but refused to let his self-pity get to her. "Clark, why don't you eat something? I'm fixing some lunch now."

"You serious? We're just going to sit down and have a meal like nothing's wrong? Like you’re little Miss Homemaker cooking for the husband she adores? Fuck that!” He poured another drink. Some of the amber liquid sloshed over the side of the glass onto the bar. It was the only clue he was intoxicated.

"Well, we need to eat." Brook wiped her hand on a kitchen towel as she stood in the doorway. "And we need to talk."

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