“Really? You really want me to do that? You'll be brought back in, too, you know.” And he's right, and I do know, and I absolutely cannot go through that again. Eventually, they're going to catch me in a lie and I'm going to be fried. If I'd shot them in the head, nice and clean, kept the videos of them torturing Katie then maybe I'd be alright. But I didn't. I killed them by stabbing a pair of scissors into their throats. Police kind of frown on that sort of thing. It's so much harder to claim self-defense in a situation like that, but I wasn't thinking clearly. After I found the videos, saw so much worse being done first-hand. And then when they came after me, beat me till I bled, promised worse the next time. A person can only handle so much.
“Guess not,” I say as he once again drops his head into his hands. A few seconds later, Eric's shoulders begin to shake and I guess that he's crying. Pussy. I didn't even cry after the abortion. Not before it either. I walked through those doors with a neutral face and stayed stoic for days after. God, I hate Turner. I hate him. Hate him. Hate him. Maybe if I repeat it enough, I'll be able to keep that emotion and that emotion only in my heart and ignore the other one that's been there since I was sixteen years old, the one that refuses to die. It's hard to kill love, isn't it? Even false love. It's like a persistent weed, one that has to be pulled out by the root and burned. I sigh. “Well, at the very least, you could be a bit more careful. I saw your car idling last night by the exit. Like that wasn't fucking obvious.”
Eric's eyes snap up to mine, a bright, piercing blue that cuts straight through me, reminding me of Katie and how she looked at me right before I left.
“And let me guess, that wasn't your car.”
“It must've been Katie,” Eric whispers, and I describe to him as best I can what the damn thing looked like. I realize as I start to do this that I need to be paying more attention. I can hardly remember anything other than the color. “Did you see where it went?” he asks me. “What direction?” I shake my head and Eric groans, letting his shoulders droop for a second before he perks up again. “If we checked the parking lot, do you think you could find it?” I shrug my shoulders, but I think I could, so I follow up with a nod.
“Yeah, sure, maybe.”
“If I find her, maybe I can get her to confess to sending the scissors in and … ” Eric trails off, and I can see wheels turning inside his head.
“You're going to pin this on her?” I ask, feeling annoyed as fuck with this man. I can't believe I ever had a crush on him, gave him my first kiss, let him hold my hand. I'm a terrible judge of men. Or I was. Now, I know better. Just like I know to stay clear of Turner Campbell. I need to start taking my own advice.
“What else do you want me to do, Naomi? It's either her or me, and we both know damn well that she's guilty.”
I scrape the inside of my cheek with my teeth, using the sharpness of the pain to keep myself in check.
“I thought you wanted to protect her,” I say nonchalantly, hoping he'll change his mind about this. I mean, pinning the murder on him is one thing. Pinning it on Katie, as crazy as she turned out to be, sort of defeats the whole purpose of my saving her in the first place. That girl's been locked up enough in her life. Yes, I'd prefer it if she'd stop sending videos of me murdering people to my acquaintances' phones, but I also don't want to see her in jail. I want her to live a nice, long, healthy, happy life far, far away from me.
“You don't know how bad it's gotten,” he tells me, shaking his head like he can't come to terms with what's going on around him. “I had to have her committed.”
“So you've said,” I tell him as I fish out another cigarette. Eric takes a sip from his flask and stands up, letting his eyes slide over to the flow of traffic on the highway. I wonder, and not for the first time, where he might've gotten that suit from. What business ventures does he have going on now? I almost don't want to know. I follow his gaze over to the cars and then back, glancing surreptitiously over at Indecency's bus, just to see if I can catch a glimpse of Turner. My lips purse and I end up getting angry with myself. “But you never bothered to give me any details. Like, what, she changed her hair to match mine? Her name? No, no, no, wait. She has a shrine dedicated to me in her bedroom with a dream catcher made of my hair. Is that it?”
Eric stands up without a word, letting the skin around the edges of his mouth wrinkle in disgust. When the moonlight hits his eyes just right, they reflect back at me.
“I didn't come here to be ridiculed, Naomi. I came here to ask for your help.” He starts to walk away and then pauses to glance over his shoulder at me. “Oh, and if you see Katie, be careful. She might seem innocent, but looks are deceiving. You'd be surprised at what she's capable of.”