JURY: ELI HALLORAN GUILTY ON ALL COUNTS
Oh, fuck. Oh, no. Please. Not now. Not like this. It feels as if my body is crumpling into itself. As if my outer shell is cracking to reveal emptiness beneath it. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to believe that this is real, but I can’t ignore it. It’s there, in harsh, glaring light on the wall: the sins of my father, once called the most hated man in America. My true identity. Splashed on the wall for everyone in my new life to see.
I want Luke to turn around, and I’m scared to see his face. I want to scream You don’t understand! That girl is not the real me! But I know better. Because she is me, and I am her. There is no escaping myself. I should have known.
When Luke finally turns, his face is twisted in anger and pain. The students don’t move. Or speak. Or look at me.
“I—I’m sorry,” I whisper. I have to get as far away from this place as possible. I reach for the door handle, my skin tingling with panic and adrenaline and fear. Twist it and trip outside, where a light rain has started to fall. I’m going to be sick. I stumble around the side of the studio, bending over to try to catch my breath.
He knows. He knows who I am, and he knows that I lied. And now we’re over. My new life is over. My future is over. Gasping for breath, I straighten up and tilt my face toward the sky, letting the rainwater rinse my tears. I have to leave. I can’t bear to face Luke ever again. I kick off my heels, scoop them up, and start to run.
chapter twenty-seven
On the drive back to the cottage, the outside world flies by in fragments, like raindrops spilling down glass. I’m speeding past cars, their horns blaring. I grip the steering wheel so tight I think I might crush it. Scream fuck you at my father for the very first time, and mean it.
Fuck him for destroying my family, for destroying the lives of so many families for the sake of power and greed and wealth that wasn’t even ours. Fuck him for the suicides of the people who lost everything—the deaths we know about and the deaths we don’t. Fuck him for destroying my chance at real love and a future, even from his jail cell. I hope he feels as alone right now as I do. The kind of alone that hollows you and out and leaves you to wither.
When I get to the Cottage, Gwen’s car is already in the driveway. I push the front door open and sag against the wall in the entrance hall, my body shaking. I take off my glasses and squeeze them in my sweaty palm until they crack. My sobs are silent; consuming. I slide down the wall and rest next to the door, bringing my knees to my chest. For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to be consumed by hate. What I don’t know is whether my hate is for my father. Or whether it’s for me.
“Elle? Oh, my God.” The entrance hall light is sudden and accusing. Gwen’s blurred outline coalesces in front of me. She’s wearing her school clothes but her feet are bare, except for a silver toe ring. She bends down and brushes wet strands of hair from my cheek. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”
I shake my head, unable to catch my breath.
“Here. Okay.” She takes a seat beside me, not so close that she’s invading my space. Close enough that I know she’s there. She’s quiet as I cry. She doesn’t try to stop me.
“What’s going on? Did something happen at school?”
I nod.
She doesn’t ask for more. Just slips her hand over mine and rests it there. In my purse, my cell phone buzzes.
“Do you want me to get that?”
I shake my head. I can’t talk to him, can’t see him, ever again. I don’t deserve any part of him. How could I have betrayed his trust this way? I lied to the man I love, just like my father lied to us. I’m no better than him. I’m a Halloran, whether I use the name or not.
“Something happened in class,” I say after seconds, minutes of silence have passed. “Something big. Something so big I don’t think I can fix it. Luke found out something about me. The kids, too. Everybody.”
“Oh.” She squeezes my hand. “About your family? About your dad?”
I have no adrenaline left to fuel panic. I am truly empty. So I just nod. “Luke called you.”
“No.”
I turn to look at her. “I don’t understand.”
“I figured it out a while ago.” She doesn’t move her hand. “I kept thinking you looked really familiar. And when I found your money clip and it didn’t match your initials, I thought that was kind of strange.”
The tears start fresh.
“But I didn’t think about it again until a few nights later, when I was trying to get to sleep. Flipping through one of my old magazines.”