Tabula Rasa

“A lot,” Shannon said. “More than me. And I’m certainly not uncomfortable.”


I stared at him for a good long moment, wondering if he’d idly thought of killing me and draining my bank accounts. Surely, if he could find out this much about me, he could find out how to gain access to my money once I was out of the way. Why hadn’t Trevor done that?

But I think I knew. Those photos he kept in his wallet told me everything. I had to have dated him and then rejected him. And what he’d wanted more than my money was to force a relationship with me. When I woke without my memory, maybe he’d thought if he could just isolate me enough, make me depend on him enough... he might have a chance with me.

It sounded crazy-vain for me to think this way, but he’d obviously been obsessed. What else would explain the lies he’d concocted? In his fantasy, I was his wife and depended solely on him for everything. And he’d found a way to make it happen. I don’t think he cared even a little bit about my money, or maybe he’d been planning for us to live off it indefinitely. Maybe that was how he was getting by just fine and stocking the deep freezer without his job at the hospital.

“If you know how much money I have, does that mean you’ve been in my accounts somehow?” I didn’t even want to think about how he might have accomplished this, but I had every confidence Shannon was capable of figuring it out.

He gave me one of his patented calm, assessing looks. “I have.”

“Had there been recent withdrawals?”

His eyes widened as if surprised I wasn’t a complete idiot. “I’m impressed. Yes, Trevor gained access to your accounts. He had your cards and PIN numbers. I used them to get in. He’d been leeching off your money.”

“How much did he take?” I didn’t even know how much I had. More than Shannon. But what did that even mean? I had no idea how much Shannon had, but I was sure he had a lot more than it appeared to the casual passerby.

“Not as much as I would expect. I think he was just living off you since he fled his job.”

I wondered even more now about what Trevor’s end game had been. Surely he hadn’t thought we could live in an abandoned theme park forever. And even if we could temporarily, he’d been a fugitive, so it wasn’t as if he’d roamed freely without fear. Was there a second improbable location he’d planned for us? How would he have kept the ruse going? Or was he deluded enough to think he could win my love and then confess the truth to me, and we’d go off somewhere happily into the sunset? Was that why he’d tried to confirm that I loved him the night Shannon shot him? Had he thought he could move us to the confession and the next phase of his plan?

But... I had money. At least that was something.

“So I can pay you back now. For all the clothes and food and everything.”

“I don’t need your money,” Shannon said.

“I didn’t say you needed it. I just... you should be compensated for... for everything.”

“I don’t want your money.”

Shannon took his empty glass to the kitchen and went back upstairs. The cat followed him and then yowled when he shut her out of the bedroom.

However much he might be attached to the animal, it didn’t extend to bedroom privileges. She sulked back down the stairs, gave me a look of pure evil as if it were my fault he’d locked her out, then curled up on the chair she’d been in before.

“Mrrrawr?” she said.

I might be going crazy but I was half-convinced she wanted to finish watching the movie. Maybe the white cat understood French, too.





***





The following night, we had dinner early. Shannon brought home Chinese take-out. At five minutes til six, he took my box of food away from me, closed it, and calmly placed it in the fridge.

“What?” I was only halfway finished.

“It’s almost six.”

“So?”

“So, my guests will be arriving any minute. They’re very punctual. You have to go to your room.”

“But...”

“You can finish dinner when they leave.” Shannon never allowed food out of the kitchen for any reason. He’d said something about attracting bugs—as if bugs got together and conspired to find the houses where people ate in more than one room.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just...”

Shannon loomed over me and pointed upstairs.

“Okay! When will the party be over?”

“I don’t know. Late. Go. Don’t come out of your room. And keep your door locked.”

What the hell?

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