Ingrid saw opportunity.
Maybe we can work something out, she said. Tell me what you know.
Unwittingly, Adam told her all they knew about Black Iris. She put the pieces together, realizing that I had to be involved, that she could use this to plant the seeds of doubt in my mind. Make me distrust my friends. Render me isolated and helpless, with her as my only safe haven. When Adam asked about me, she lied.
Sofie transitioned because of you, she said. Because of what you did to her. You made her hate being a woman so much it pushed her over the edge. Now she thinks she’s a man, and it’s your fault.
He was horrified. What can I do?
She said, Help me bring her back.
Adam knew this wasn’t right. If someone felt like a man inside, he was a man. If his ex had gone down that path, then good for him.
Amazing, that an abusive asshole managed to be more accepting than a radical feminist.
Tamsin, of course, had been watching the whole time. Anyone who contacted Crito was suspect as far as Black Iris was concerned. Especially a notorious radfem blogger who should’ve been public enemy number one to the men’s-rights creeps. When Ingrid didn’t contact Black Iris for help, Laney realized something was off. Tam followed all four of us, and Laney gradually put the puzzle together: Ingrid had been ruining my rep, systematically destroying me.
By following a male monster, Laney found the hidden female one.
My ex–best friend.
I had to use Adam, Laney said now. I couldn’t tell you. There was no way you’d accept it. He was our link to Ingrid—she didn’t know we’d flipped him. Once we saw what she was doing to you, we built a case against her to undo the damage. And he helped with that. We’ve been behind you all this time, Ren. We’ve always been on your side.
I told you to trust me, once.
Was I right?
For years I’d lived with the person poisoning my body and mind. The person turning me against myself.
And the man who’d hurt me was the one who freed me from her.
Too much. My mind couldn’t hold the idea without feeling as if it would crack.
It’s all over now, Laney said. Her machinations. His usefulness.
I can make them both disappear. If you want.
What do you want, Ren?
———
It was a small room without windows. White walls, white door, chair under a colorless lightbulb. When the man in the chair moved, his shadow split from his body and struck a random surface. He was not tied or restrained.
No camera. No witnesses.
Only me and him.
Like that night.
When I walked in, his eyes widened, and he looked at my body, every inch of it, unblinking. Then he swallowed.
I wore joggers and a tank, to show him there was no weapon on me but my own muscle.
I’d lifted a few sets before I went in, to heat my blood. To make me feel like I could take the whole world on, single-handed. But seeing him this close, feeling the air stir and eddy with his breath, made me shiver.
Over the years I had rehearsed this scene a hundred times in my head. Sometimes even recorded my part, watched the video again and again till I slammed the DELETE key. It became a letter I was writing to him, and the letter became a diary, and this thing, this evil thing he’d done became the great divider between her and him, Sofie and Ren. In some sick way it was an anchor point, almost a perverse comfort. It contextualized things. Gave shape, form, meaning to the pain roiling inside me. I hurt because he hurt me, not because I was messed-up before then, not because I was transgender. I hated my femininity because he used it as license to violate me, not because I had problematic feelings about being feminine.
I hurt men because he hurt me, not because I hated myself.
All the speeches I’d rehearsed focused on the past. What he’d done to me, how it made me feel. A darkness that had come and gone.
They were all wrong.
“Adam,” I said.
His head rose.
Here’s the face of a rapist:
He looks just like any other man. Nothing distinguishes him from men who don’t hurt women.
This face was handsome, and once I’d thought, as I let him unbutton my jeans, I wish I looked like you.
Now I said, “Don’t talk. Listen.”
His expression didn’t change, but the apple in his throat bulged. He glanced at mine as I spoke.
“You came here for forgiveness, and I won’t give it to you. I will never give another thing to you.”
Without touching him I leaned close, until our bodies shared one heat.
“But I’ll do something else. Something better.” I smiled. “I’m going to let you go. Live your life. Get married, have kids, buy a house. Build something for yourself. Put down roots. Find your place in the world, Adam Halverson.”