“I was referring to you.” Always the straight shooter.
Alexander’s words as I lay dying in his arms come rushing back. “It was always you for me. I was just lucky enough that you chose me. I’m the lucky one.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m the lucky one.”
I watch as he walks out the door without looking back, without so much as a goodbye. I’m not sure if it’s for now or forever, but it’s settled either way.
Shelly leaves shortly after. She didn’t want to go, but I want to be here alone when Alexander comes back to me.
It doesn’t take me long to get ready for bed. My body buzzes with energy, so I lie down to curb my impatience. My hand slides under my T-shirt, and I run the tips of my fingers over my wound. I’m healing “nicely” the doctor says, and I don’t have to wear bandages anymore. The scar is ugly, but living is good, so I’ll take the tradeoff.
And wait for my dark king to return to me.
35
Sara Jane
My eyes fly open, my heart thudding in my chest.
Another night.
Another nightmare.
I sit up, sweating, and push the covers from body, needing the cooler air to comfort me. The dream is visceral, my arms empty from the baby I’ll never hold. The vision of Alexander in agony pins me to the spot.
His pain.
I can’t take his pain.
I’m so sorry.
When the first tear falls, I move into the bathroom and lean my hands on the counter, not able to look myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see the effects of the pain I’ve caused, digging into my features. I just want to wake up from the nightmare I’ve been living.
I splash some cold water on my face and pat it dry.
Alexander.
Tossing the towel, I run back into the bedroom and look at the time. 3:32 a.m.
Why is he not here? “Damn it.” I’m going stir-crazy, waiting for his return. Grabbing my robe, I fling it around my shoulders, tuck my phone in the pocket, and leave the room. Maybe there’s some wine in the fridge.
The manor is quiet as I walk down the hall and descend the stairs. But a creak in the wood behind me makes me stop and look back. “Hello?”
Thank God no one answers or I might jump a mile. I turn back—ACK! My scream bounces around the room as I come face to face with April. “You scared me.”
“Good,” she replies, her voice somber, her eyes as soulless as her heart.
I take a step back, gripping my robe closed at the neck. “Are you okay?” She doesn’t look okay. The dark circles under her eyes have hollowed, and her lips appear parched. Such a contrast to the made-up socialite from earlier.
“You remind me of her.”
“Who?”
She takes a step closer and I take another step back. “Who, April? Who do I remind you of?”
“His wife.”
My mind stumbles in the dark of the room, trying to grasp something to hold on to. “Alexander’s father?”
Coming closer, she whispers, “I wanted her dead.”
My voice fails me in fear, and I whisper, “She is.”
“But you’re not.”
I back away, debating if I run for the bedroom or the front door. “I’m not her.”
“No, you’re her replacement. You’re now the one who can take everything away from me. I won’t let you. Not again.”
“I didn’t. You’re confused. I’m Sara Jane. I’m not here to hurt you, April.”
“You already have.”
With my arms in front of me, I try to temper the crazy that burns in her eyes. “Did you take something?”
“Will you help me, Sara Jane?”
“I will.” She sways, and I reflexively move closer for support.
She collapses to the floor, and I drop to my knees. “April? April, what did you take?”
Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her body convulses. I reach for my phone to call 9-1-1, but a hand is on my throat and my body is throttled back, my head hitting the bottom stair. April is bearing her weight down on me as I grab her arm and attempt to pull it off. When she doesn’t budge, I bring my knee up, ignoring the pulsing pain from my healing wound and push her off me. She flies back, her body hitting the console table behind the couch.
What little light exists shines on her exposed arms, fresh track marks from needles. Gasping for air, I scramble up against the step and pull myself to my feet. She kicks my ankle, causing me to stumble when I try to run. Her voice is shrill as she yells, “You won’t ruin this. Not again.”
“I’m not Madeline. April, please. It’s me, Sara Jane.”
“You’re all the same. All of you.”
I run to the other side of the living room, keeping the two couches between us when she rises. “April, don’t do this. I can help.”
“Help me? I don’t want your help. I want to live the life I should have had.”
“Hurting me won’t help you. Alexand—”
“Alexander is more her son than mine. There’s no saving him, just like there’s no saving you now.”
My throbbing heart stops dead in my chest and falls. “You wouldn’t hurt him. You gave birth to him.”
Her laugh is maniacal, but the laugh stops dead, just like my heart and her expression falls as if she can’t control the fallout of her actions. She slurs, “He’s his father incarnate. I’ve done you a favor.” A favor? What does she mean?
I’m never going to reason with someone strung out. She’s becoming sloppy and sluggish. I have to get out of here. Turning, I make a run for the terrace, unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. I dash across the stone area and down the steps onto the cold grass. I run past the rose bushes and down to the lake.
I pull my phone from my pocket and look back. She’s not following me, hopefully too out of it to keep up. Not able to catch my breath, I go to my recent calls and push the last one I called. The sounds of the night—cicadas, blowing leaves, the water lapping lightly—keep me on edge when they would usually soothe.
The first ring makes me jump, but the second speeds my heart up even faster in anticipation. “Please answer. Please answer. Please answer,” I chant, but my hopes are dashed when I get Officer Langley’s voicemail. “Help me. It’s Sara Jane. April is trying to kill me. Help me. I’m at the manor.” I quickly walk away from the house, deeper out into the property of the estate. “I’m by the lake. She’s in the house. Please—”
“Sara Jane?” I hear her calling me from the gardens, closer than the terrace, but far enough for me to run and hide.
Running, I grip my phone tight in my hand and scan the area, looking for a place to hide. My side aches, but I move as quickly as I can. The lawn is expansive, but there are no more gardens to protect me. I make it to the dock, staring into the inky black of the gently rippling water. I’m trapped. There’s nowhere to run. I’ll dive into the water if I have to, but I’m not supposed to submerge my wound.
Nothing exists out here but the moon that brightens the sky. I look across the lawn, knowing I only have seconds to decide my fate. I refuse to give up. Even injured, I can outrun her. I take off, leaving the lake behind.
“Sara Jane?”