Page 59 of Sadist

My stomach turned to ice.

“There is?”

She nodded. “The planes had a last-minute switch, and seating is different in that model, so it looks like you have been bumped to first class.”

I tried not to faint on the spot from relief, nodding mutely.

“It’s your lucky day, Miss Lancaster!” She beamed a fake smile at me, handing me back my ticket and passport. I took it and fled, weaving my way in and out of the milling people toward the escalators that led to customs. It felt like everyone was looking at me, even though it was no more than the usual glances as I slipped into line and put my bag on the belt, checking my watch. It was nearly one, and my funeral was due to start in thirty minutes, the absurdity of it making me want to laugh.

“Pockets?”

I jumped as the security officer barked the word at me from his side of the belt, and he smiled in apology.

“Sorry, Miss.” He gestured to the jacket I wore. “Anythin’ in your pockets?”

“Oh.” I shook my head, thrusting my hands into them to check, and found only a small, folded piece of paper, which I pulled out and showed him, noticing an “O” scrawled on the front.

“Chuck it in the tray with your bag.” He gestured for me to drop it in, and I did, my fingers itching to grab it and see what it was. Theo must have slipped it into my pocket as we said goodbye.

I nearly ran through the scanner, my eyes glued on the tray that was slowly making its way through the X-ray machine and snatching it off the belt as soon as it slid toward me. I unfolded the small slip of paper, my eyes hungrily scanning the small, neat writing. Three words that I could hold onto.

I love you.

I refused…refusedto break down sobbing like a tired toddler in the middle of the airport. So I grabbed my bag off the belt, waved a hand of apology to the line of people behind me that I had held up, and beelined for the first electronics shop I could find. It felt weird using the money Theo had sent with me tobuy a phone, but I had no way of touching my account without it setting off alarm bells—if the money was even still in there—but it made me feel a little less disconnected to hold that tether to the world in my hand. I paid for it quickly, chucking a prepaid card on top at the last minute before taking my new purchases to a quiet corner.

I had the phone set up and running in a few minutes, my back to the bustling airport as I plugged the device in and connected to the internet, searching YouTube for the latest information on the funeral.

There was a live event already streaming, and I clicked on it, having a near-out-of-body experience at the sight of my own funeral.

It was huge.

Paparazzi were covering the event from all angles, showcasing the cathedral decorated with white roses and thick candles that glowed softly in the low lighting. People were milling everywhere as they found their seats and left gifts under a photo of me that sat in pride of place at the front of the building. My lip curled in disgust as I watched people I had never known mourn me, all while the man responsible wasn’t even there.

My mother sat in the front row with dry eyes and was being doted on by a few women I vaguely recognizedfrom dinner parties in distant memories. She was the one loss I had an inkling of sadness for. She had never been a good parent. I had been handed off to nannies from the second I was born. Theo had been right in her assumption that I had been the ticket to my mother’s easy existence. A trophy for William’s arm, and a cover for his black heart. But she was still my mother, and there were times she had looked at me with the faintest hint of affection in her pale blue eyes.

I was glued to the screen, unable to drag my eyes away as people who hadn’t bothered to talk to me since school got up and spoke about me as if they knew me.

I actually laughed as Emma Spencer, my high school nemesis, stood up and made a speech complete with crocodile tears.

“Octavia and I were best friends through school. A true bright light in our year. I can’t believe I’m never going to see her again.”

“Oh, please,” I muttered. “You called me a cunt and poured a milkshake on my science project because I wouldn’t let you take credit for contributing absolutely nothing.” I shook my head as a boy I had dated for a week stood up next, his face a picture of sorrow.

“Don’t do it,” I warned. “I’m watching from the afterlife and very much judging you, Steven-terrible-kisser-don’t-answer-his-call.” I wondered briefly if Theo had gone through my old phone and found the wild array of names I had people saved as. Surely, she would have questionedsmelled-like-bolognaandcried-after-sex.But then again, she had surprised me more than once.

It got more comical as it went on, and I almost forgot I was watching the death of the old me— until the speeches concluded and the cameras panned to the heavy wooden doors that opened to reveal a group of men I had never seen before, bearing a white coffin on their shoulders.

I sobered immediately, guilt weighing heavily on my heart as I watched the body of a woman I had never known take the burden of my old life into her death. She would rest in an opulent casket, in a beautiful grave site, but never have her name engraved on the stone above. I made her a silent promise that I would have fresh flowers sent to the grave every month and would rectify this before I was laid to rest myself.

I checked the time, noting I had ten minutes until my gate opened. Slinging my bag over my shoulder and pulling up my hood, I headed toward the gate, still glued to the screen.

The pallbearers started their slow walk up the aisle to the somber music, and I scanned the crowd for William. My mother still stood with her friends; her eyes locked on the coffin that was slowly coming toward her with a look of such sadness that my heart gave a little squeeze.

Buthehadn’t even bothered to show his face.

The camera swung back to the coffin, zooming in slightly. They had stopped halfway up the aisle, and I frowned, nearly bumping into a woman with a pushchair as I squinted at the screen. One of the pallbearers had stepped away from the casket and was pointing to its side.

I joined the group of passengers waiting at the gate just as it opened, refusing to look at the plane waiting patiently through the windows to take me half a world away, anxiety escalating with every step I took.

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