Page 129 of Good Girls Lie
It is almost midnight now. She shuts off her light, goes to the window.
Is it her imagination, or is there a shadow out by the gates?
Is Ash there, waiting for her, after all?
She sees the flick of hair and the glowing tip of a cigarette. Someone is out there, wearing a gown that blends in with the night perfectly.
Her heart soars. After everything, Ash is still willing to talk to her.
Becca has to go, go now. She has to beg forgiveness. She has to make Ash understand why she rejected her so cruelly. She has to make her understand what is at stake.
She has to make this right.
She has to win her back.
She rushes down the stairs, then turns right, toward the dining hall. There is a tunnel connected to the last trolley, a hidden door into the darkness. She slips through it, traverses the quad, and emerges on the main street, out into the night. The air feels heavy with impending rain, the clouds dark and roiling above, blotting out the moon.
She jogs up the sidewalk to the main gates, the red scarf flowing behind her, to the shadow that waits for her.
Toward her heart. Toward her future.
“Ash? I’m so sorry.”
76
THE MURDER
How do you kill a narcissist?
I mean, how do you attract one in the first place? Do you put off some sort of pheromone that says,Hey, sexy lady, I’m easily manipulated, come check out my wares?
I attract them. They find me. They seek me out—for whatever perceived vulnerability I give off, the pathos, the acceptance. They see me as a tool to their ascent, a shoulder to be stepped upon, a foil, a testing ground.
If I, sweet, biddable I, can be fooled into loving them, the whole world will, too.
Only I am not sweet. I am not biddable. I may send signals that I want to belong, that I want to be loved, but this is a false trail. I have been humoring you. I am curious to see what your plan is, what you intend to do. How you think you will rule over me.
I will extricate myself from your grip and wave you away. You, the one who thinks the world owes you, may think you’ve made this choice.
But I am the spider. I am waiting at the center of the web for the blundering fly.
I am the real monster.
When faced with killing a narcissist, I find it easier than I always thought it would be. There is nothing I can do but give in to the urge to punish the wrongdoer. To unmask the manipulator. To show the world who you really are.
Thank you for wearing my scarf. You look so pretty in red.
Let’s start with your eyes.
Oh, don’t whimper. This won’t hurt a bit.
77
THE GATES
The scene before Ford is a nightmare.
There are girls milling in the street, girls outside of the gates, girls inside the gates. They’re all staring at something... She sees a flutter of black fabric, and she knows.
