Page 63 of Deviant

Does that mean that my mother wasn’t good?

If so, does that mean this town is full of liars then?

Because everyone who has ever talked to me about my mother always paints her as some kind of saint. Like she was the very heart of Blackwater Falls.

So which is it?

Was she good or not?

Am I truly made to believe that every girl or woman who was ever selected for the Harvest Dozen was somehow bad?

Is that what he’s trying to imply?

Is that what this fucking town wants me to believe?

Because I’ve grown tired of it.

Tired of being referred to as good.

“Anyway, do you have what you came for?” Bobby asks, his attention now split back outside to the bullpen.

“Yep. I got what I came for,” I reply, stuffing the thermos into my backpack.

“Good to hear. Now, I wouldn’t say no to some of your famous lasagna if you make more of it. Doing a double shift tonight, so I need all the nutrients I can get.”

“Sure. I’ll make you a portion.” I smile, hiding the need to get out of here. My backpack suddenly feels like it weighs a ton with the Rohypnol bottle inside as I bypass Bobby out of my father’s office and into the bullpen.

“Like I said. I hope my daughter is half as good to me as you are to Hank. You really are a good girl.”

My heart sinks at his supposed words of praise.

Good girl. Always the good girl. God, how I hate that term.

When did subservient, afraid, and fearful become synonymous with being good?

Nora is good. She would risk her life for the people she loves. That is good.

Me? I’m not good. Not really. Because if I were, I’d let Nora try and save her mother in any way she deemed possible. No. I’m not good at all.

What I really am is damaged goods. Because I would rather Nora’s mom live out whatever remaining years she has left in pain than risk losing Nora to The Scourge.

Tell me again how good I am now, Bobby?

I dare you.

Still, I smile like the fucking good girl they all believe me to be and walk out of the sheriff’s station with a bottle of Rohypnol and two ecstasy pills. Because that’s what fucking good girls do, right?

Right.

Once I’m behind the wheel of my car, I groan in both aggravation and frustration.

It doesn’t matter, Rowen.

None of it matters.

Only saving Nora matters.

With the first step of my plan done, now the second part commences.

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