Page 3 of A Christmas to Die For
"What happened next?"
"I walked up to him in the kitchen and dropped the open book on the floor, panties and photos falling at our feet. He put his hands up in a kind of frustrated way and said, 'How did you find those?' No denial, no apology, just fury spreading across his face because he got caught. I ran for my cellphone to call the police, and that's when he came after me.
Helunged at me like an animal, tackling me to the floor. The phone was still in my grasp, but he slammed my hand repeatedly into the floor until it bounced out. He broke my wrist. It was so violent and surreal. He had never even raised his voice to me in the past, but suddenly he was ready to kill me. He took my head in his hands and smashed my skull into the ground. The whole room started spinning and I was so disoriented I just dropped my head to the floor. Jack thought he knocked me out for good, and that's when I was able to run to the kitchen for a weapon. The knife was sitting in the sink, so I grabbed it and… did what I had to do to survive."
"Wow." Now it's my turn to be speechless. I lean in without thinking. "Then what?" I ask, sounding more like a nosy best friend getting the tea than a professional host.
"The police showed up after I was able to call nine-one-one. I was in rough shape, barely able to stand, beaten pretty badly. They rushed me to the hospital. I don't really know what happened after that."
Holly gives us a detailed account of her extensive injuries. The severe concussion, the broken bones. How she healed in the hospital while the media covered the story worldwide.
"Technically, you were accused of manslaughter in the first degree, but the prosecutor dropped the case, is that right?"
"Yes." Holly's eyes glisten with fresh tears. "The families of all eight victims advocated to the judge on my behalf. It was quite—I can't say amazing, given what happened to those innocent women, but it was—an incredible act of grace from the very people who lost the most. We didn't even go to trial."
"Sounds like something worthy of a documentary on Netflix, huh?"
Mara shakes her head from the corner of my eye, her hand going to her face in disappointment.
Oops.
I wasn't supposed to mention the handful of companies trying to get a piece of her story. Exclusive film rights, book deals, interviews. Holly is very sensitive to the whole ordeal, understandably, which is why we were shocked she agreed to our podcast.
"Were the police forthcoming with you?" I ask.
"No. Even though I was his significant other, they didn't share many details. I was considered a secondary party, and since I was guilty of my own wrongdoing, I was on a need-to-know basis. Honestly, I didn't want to know what he did. I'm just grateful the families got peace and closure."
"And most likely saved another innocent victim, since your anniversary was approaching."
"That's right." It's the first hint of a smile I've seen from her all day.
Holly gives us a life update and how she's been in a lot of therapy to get past all the lies and her trust issues. I ask a final question to wrap things up.
"Think you'll be dating anytime soon?"
She guffaws and swipes a final tear from her eye.
"Absolutely not. Truly, Sabrina, I'll probably be alone for the rest of my life."
It's a bittersweet ending, and I feel a pang of sympathyfor her.
"Holly, thank you so much for coming on our podcast. To our listeners and viewers, if you enjoyed what you heard, don't forget to like, subscribe, share, and tell your friends. You've been watchingMaske of Sanity,with your host, Sabrina Maske, wishing you all a good night."
When Holly leaves our tiny recording studio and it's just Mara and me, I skillfully unhook my bra under my shirt and fling it across the room.
"Ah, much better," I exhale.
"I told you not to show the photo," Mara scolds, a little harsher than usual since Phoebe has gone to pick up lunch. She grabs my bra from the floor and places it on the couch, tidying the room as best she can.
"Did you see her visceral reaction? It'll bring in the views! You'll be thanking me later."
"Just wait 'til Phoebe edits it out."
I blanch. "No way, Phoebe wouldn't."
"You know she's not going to risk something that could land us in hot water… again."
"Everything good?" Phoebe appears in the doorway with two greasy bags of In-N-Out, sensing the tension.
