I need her to talk faster. My eyes are watery; I'm slipping away.
"So I looked up Rachel, who was at school with you. And she was in therapy. So I went to therapy. I found her there, and we talked, and...oh, we had a lot in common." Her voice drops with bitter sarcasm. "I had to do a few things I never counted on to make her talk. She really liked me. I did what I had to. God, I'm a horrible person." More tears, blurred in my vision but just as beautiful. I wish she'd stop crying. "When I found out what you did to her, I...I was curious...I knew this other part of you again. I held on to her. She was the only part of you that I could touch."
If I could, I'd laugh. Hysterically.
Firecracker, you were so on the money. My Princess Priss is more fucked than you ever knew.
And I don't care.
"I never thought we'd meet. That you'd notice me. I didn't know what to do with myself when you did. I still don't because I'm a fucking idiot. But you...you're worse. You're poison," Leo weeps. "All the women you touch end up dead. Your mother, Rachel, Tuija. None of them asked for it—"
I growl at her.
My mother, she fucking asked for it. She may as well have dropped to her knees and begged.
"Don't bother trying to defend yourself," Leo spits. "I wised up. I took care of things. I did what I had to do. What I should have done to begin with." She puts her face back in her arms, her knees pulled tightly together. "I...I did...had...do. I'm not...like you. Not...killer."
I can barely even hear her.
Can't focus.
Can't feel.
I pull strength from some strange place inside and force out four faint words. "Do you love me?"
"I try not to," she sobs. "I try not to!"
"B-because I...I love you..."
She almost roars. Leo isn't Leo anymore, but a river weeping herself far, far away.
My vision shrinks to pin pricks. I'm vaguely aware that the cold streaks dripping from my chin are tears.
I used up my last shreds of energy just talking. Breathing. Leo has said her important things, and I have said mine.
Perhaps it's time to go. It would be easy. I could slip and slither, my belly so wet, so sore.
I could go see my firecracker. Put her up somewhere real nice.
Leo's talking again, though I can't...quite...make...
"Hello? Is that 911?"
Leo...? Are you still there...?
"Sorry...I'm a mess...oh God. I did a bad thing..."
A flash. A flutter.
The dark kneels down to greet me.
Can you hear the piano, grasshoppers? That's some rockabilly shit.
EPILOGUE
Leontine
Six months later
My therapist's office is an obstacle course of risk.
Observe the scissors left out on the cheap plywood desk at that awkward angle; anyone could grab them at any time. Stupid place to leave them. And she's meant to be smart?
Observe the blocked exit points at the window or the fire door; both the ledge and floor are piled high with boxes, files, and pot plants that are meant to help me relax. Nothing in here helps me to relax. Not even the pills she's been trying to stuff me with to get rid of the nightmares.
Good old Doctor Yao. At least she tries. Kudos to her for rocking that pixie cut, too—she's got the bone structure.
"You've come a long way since I first saw you," she says with a kind smile. "I know things were bad then, but I want you to appreciate all the progress you've made. It's quite an achievement."
"I've been doing the breathing exercises," I tell her. "They really help."
"And the night terrors? All gone?"
"For about two months, now."
Lies. I still have them; they skulk in at midnight to haunt me. I regularly wake with a whimper, hunched and spat out on the tongue of a wraith.
Rachel on the floor, her legs in a knot and half of her face just...missing.
Aeron, a knife in his hand, my skin warm and trembling beneath it.
Aeron, a slow pool of scarlet seeping from his belly. He spilled my blood; I spilled his. I'm an engineer. We like symmetry.
I background checked the fuck out of you, Miss OCD. I suppose he didn't pay too much attention to my previous addresses. I don't share my mother's surname—a nasty divorce put paid to that—but that address should have given it all away. Yet it didn't.
Serendipity dropped me in his lap, and serendipity saved me.
I smile.
"I want you to know that you can come back to me at any time," she says. There's a warmth in her eyes that makes me want to hug her. The Victim Look—it's like lubricant. It helps with so many things. "You had a very unfortunate accident, but you have to accept that it wasn't your fault."
"I know," I say quietly. "I know."
The charges were dropped.
People who have money can get away with anything.
"Now take my card, and in the nicest possible way," she adds, "I hope I never see you again."
I manage a little laugh. "Me too. Thanks, Dr Yao. You've been amazing."