Page 23 of Vow of Vengeance
I remember like it was yesterday, my body moving automatically. I may as well have been a doll, controlled by someone else as I moved around that bathroom, looking for anything that the police had missed, anything that would jog my memory. I remember sinking into that tub, feeling so much relief when my back rested against it and I didn't have to focus so much on staying upright, tilting my head back to look at the chandelier overhead, the sunlight that glinted off of it reminding me of the stars the night I was dying on the riverbank. I remember realizing, all of a sudden, that I'd brought the knife with me into the bathtub, that it was still in my right hand.
My reflection was distorted when I held it up to get a look.
I remember the relief of seeing blood when I dragged the blade across my skin. It dripped onto my dress when I switched hands, on the walls of the tub when I cut into my other arm, onto the floor when I laid my arms over the side of the tub and eased back, feeling comforted by the crimson rain falling from me.
I don't remember Khan beating down the door downstairs or running into the bathroom to pull me out. I don't remember him screaming or calling an ambulance. I just remember waking up in the hospital wearing a paper gown that felt offensive compared to the wedding gown I'd fallen asleep in.
"Khan couldn't help clean up my mess that time. He found me, and it was too hard for him to go back there. So, Marissa cleaned everything up again, by herself this time."
I lick my lips, which suddenly feel dry. I know I wasn't lucid, that I wasn’t in my right mind when I made the decision to do what I did. But it was wrong of me. What kind of person makes her best friend sponge her blood off the tile?
"She's a good friend." Declan says.
It feels like a victory of sorts, having him validate one of the only good choices I've made in my life.
"Yeah," I muse. "They both are."
"I'm surprised she's let you stew this long." Declan chuckles, his warm breath setting off a shiver between my shoulder blades.
"She probably figured it was your job now." I laugh.
"I'd think she would have ripped you off the couch by your hair a week ago."
I smile a little, because he's right. I love that he's already figured her out so well.
The smile doesn't last long, though. It slips off my face entirely when his words sink a little deeper.
He doesn't fight me when I push past him, stepping out of the shower still dripping wet. I barely wrap the towel around me before I leave the warmth of the bathroom, running to the couch where I've been living for the last few weeks. I drop to my knees and curse my wet fingers as I try to unlock the screen, my hands shaking as the pit in my stomach deepens.
I feel Declan before I see him, before he even speaks.
"What is it?" He asks.
I get the phone unlocked and navigate to my messages, looking for the thread with Marissa, the string of texts I never replied to. We never go more than four hours without one of us sending the other a message. I've been bad about not getting back to her lately, wallowing in my disgust. I haven't even been opening her messages, but now I scroll rapidly through them.
I click the last one, looking for a time stamp.
My heart squeezes violently when I see it...
Three days ago.
thirteen
Declan
SheputsKhanonspeakerphone as we drive to Marissa's apartment, following the navigation to a tall building in the city.
His phone rings for what feels like forever, and I can feel Soren's panic rising as she worries that something is wrong with him too.
I'm just about to tell her to hang up when he answers the phone, huffing as if he’d been interrupted in the middle of a workout. "Ren?"
"Khan!" She sighs in relief at just the sound of his voice, but she doesn't let go of all the tension yet. "Is Marissa with you?"
"Why would she be with me?" Khan puzzles.
"When was the last time you talked to her?"
He lets out a heavy sigh, deciding it's best to just go along with Soren's interrogation.
