Erased

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I don’t mean to follow the film crew. At least, I’m not aware I’m doing it at first as I leave the building and cross the lawn, trailing behind them as if I just so happen to be heading in the same direction.

Pure coincidence. Curiosity, maybe. Not obsession.

I stay back, but still close enough to hear snatches of chatter.

There’s a woman with a silver pixie cut in the center.

She’s not wearing any makeup and is dressed in olive green cargo pants and a plain black T-shirt, effortlessly cool.

Watching them interact, I assume she’s the director.

She’s deep in discussion about lighting and the shot list with the two men carrying cameras and the woman with a boom mic.

Off to the side, there’s another man balancing three iced coffees and a clipboard, talking into a headset.

Dani is led along with them by the man who fetched her.

I can’t figure out his job yet, perhaps an assistant director or something similar.

He’s telling her things about framing, and then the director is saying things about cutaways.

The lighting on this cloudy day is apparently both very important and rapidly changing.

Dani nods, but she looks terrified. She also looks as if she’s just been knighted, taking every word to heart, her responsibility clear.

They turn toward Liza Hall and move at once, like a cloud of power.

I stay a few paces behind, slipping inside when it’s safe. I’ll be fine as long as they think I belong—which, technically, I do. That’s the thing about institutions like Havenport. Once you’ve been absorbed into their history, their lore, you know enough to haunt them forever.

The crew sets up at a rapid pace in the atrium, buzzing with the practiced chaos of people who know exactly what they’re doing. I wonder how they got here. If this was their dream once. A tinge of jealousy paints my vision. Some people get their dream, but I never did.

I linger near a potted plant and pretend to check my phone, but I’m watching as they move. Listening to their every word.

Before they start filming, the man who delivered Dani to set notices me and crosses the room. “Hey—sorry, this building’s closed for filming. Are you faculty?”

My stomach drops. “No.” Even if I wanted to lie, I don’t have the purple lanyard needed to prove my story. And I doubt Dani would cover for me.

He tilts his head. “Alum?”

I hesitate.

“She’s one of Dr. Ralston’s protégés,” someone behind him says.

I look up.

She’s younger and wearing thick headphones. A sound tech, maybe? “The dean gave us a list of the alumni invited to the award ceremony. I recognize you. You’re Lila Parks, right? Dr. Ralston mentored you when you attended Havenport.”

Suddenly, everyone is looking at me. Assessing. Interested.

“I’m Trey. An EP,” the first man says with a grin, holding out his hand for me to shake it.

“Executive producer,” he explains, in case I didn’t understand.

“You’re not on our shot list. Would you want to be part of the doc?

We’re capturing testimonials about Dr. Ralston’s legacy.

It would be great to hear from someone who was mentored by her in the past, find out all the great things it led to.

You’d be the only Ralston success story on our list.”

Anger and embarrassment bubble in my belly. If only they knew.

“I don’t think so, but thanks.”

“Are you sure? I know it would mean a lot to her. And to us.”

Heads bob in agreement. The woman with the pixie cut approaches me, a bright smile on her face.

There are delicate lines around her eyes and mouth, and I realize she’s older than I thought.

Closer to Ralston’s age actually. “Hey, I’m Stella.

I’m directing the doc.” I was right about that. “She said your name’s Lila?”

I nod.

“Well, like they said, if you’re interested, we’d love to have you. We can work it around your schedule. And don’t worry about getting it perfect. That’s what edits are for.” She winks at me, and I find myself wanting to agree, just to impress her.

My mouth feels dry as I look away. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear what I have to say about her.”

The group falls silent. Trey clears his throat. “Oh. I take it you’re no longer a fan?”

“She’s just not who you think she is.”

“What’s that?” he challenges, intrigued.

“A hero, I’m assuming.”

He raises his eyebrows, as if I’m joking. When I don’t recant my statement, he sighs and glances at Stella like they’re wasting their time.

She can’t resist defending Ralston, though.

I see the defiance bubbling behind her eyes.

“Look, we’re not saying she’s above having flaws.

Everyone has a past, right? But…she’s a force.

You can’t deny that. Outspoken, a visionary, sharp as hell.

Whether or not you agree with her methods, she’s doing important work.

Everyone we’ve talked to says the same thing. She changes lives. Opens doors.”

Of course they do.

“But you said it yourself. You haven’t spoken to anyone she worked with in the past, have you?”

That silences them.

The potential sound tech chimes in. “Dr. Ralston was one of the first women in her department, right? That whole generation got brutalized and still came out swinging. That’s why she matters. You don’t have to like her to respect her work.”

I hear my next words before I process them. “If only it were her work she’s claiming credit for.”

Silence.

Just a beat. Just long enough to register the weight of what I’ve said, of what I’m insinuating.

Trey’s smile flickers. “Sorry—what are you saying?”

“You’re not seriously trying to take credit for anything she’s done,” Stella says, eyeing me. “Who even are you?”

I look at all of them, their bright, expectant faces, their expensive cameras, their careful reverence for a woman they only know through fairytales of her own making.

She’s right, really. Who am I? Not Althea Ralston, that’s for sure.

Just one piece of her story, one brick of the house she’s assembled on top of the lies.

Ralston has built her legacy like armor, wrapping herself in the language of hope, authenticity, and resistance. She thrives because no one ever stops to ask questions. They just worship.

“I’m no one,” I say softly. “You’re right. Not as long as you’re only interested in the version of Ralston you’ve been sold.”

They’re staring now. Not in horror. In confusion.

They can’t believe she could be anything other than exactly what she presents herself to be.

“Tell us then,” Stella says. “Tell us what you think we ought to know. If you’re so certain we’ve got it wrong, we should know the truth, hmm?”

I suck in a breath, studying their faces. I can’t tell if they’re being genuine. If they really want to know, or if they only want to prove I’m wrong. Still, I have to try. If I want to bring Ralston down, it has to be farther-reaching than Havenport. I need to be loud.

“She manipulates people. Grooms them, if you want to call it that. Not sexually or anything. But intellectually. Emotionally. She finds students who look up to her, believe in her, and she makes them feel seen so she can control them. She convinces them to trust her, that she’s going to help them.

She makes them dependent on her. Breaks them down so they’ll do anything to stay in her corner.

In her light. She uses them—and their words.

Without credit. And if they push back, she turns on them.

Like they’re nothing. Because you’re right, who are we?

Not Althea Ralston. Who would ever believe our side of things? ”

There’s a long pause, where everyone is looking at me, then each other.

Finally, Trey puffs out a heavy breath and runs his hand through his hair. His laugh is awkward and polite. I feel the rejection in it. “Wow. Okay. That’s certainly a take.”

My heart drops as if it’s in an elevator shaft. I tried. I failed. They don’t believe me. “I’m serious.”

“Look,” he says, “I get it. She’s a big personality. That kind of influence always comes with baggage.”

“Especially when it’s a powerful woman,” Stella agrees, venom in her tone.

“People always want to bring down powerful women,” the sound tech chimes in, her voice accusatory, gaze pointed.

Trey gives me a complicated smile, one that says I’ve lost, but he’s trying to be kind. “Strong women attract backlash, especially when they’re in the public eye like Dr. Ralston. She’s building a legacy, and we want to celebrate that. Not everyone will. Jealousy always comes into play.”

I steel myself, gathering my racing thoughts. “You think I’m…jealous? Why would I make this up?”

He holds up a hand, cutting off my angry rant. “I think there’s a history here we’re not equipped to litigate. If you have a story, maybe make your own documentary. We have work to do.”

I want to scream.

Instead, I step forward, lowering my voice. “She’s not building a legacy. She’s building a cult. And the people who don’t play along? Well, they disappear. You have a chance to do the right thing. To do something to stop her. I can help you.”

“Okay,” Stella says, more firmly now. “I think we’re done.”

“You’re taking the easy way out,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Rather than try to make something honest. Something scary.”

I know I’ve said too much. Done too much. I can’t help it. Ralston, this place—it’s all messing with my head. Every time I think I’ve pulled myself together, a gust of rage comes in and wrecks everything. The group turns from me, prepared to walk away.

And then, there’s a voice behind me.

“Lila.”

My heart turns to ice. I’d still know her voice anywhere. Even without looking over my shoulder.

I breathe. Brace myself.

Slowly, I turn.

She’s right there. Close enough I could touch her. Close enough I can smell her perfume. I was right—it’s still that familiar Chanel.

Ralston. In the flesh. In a lavender wool coat, her lipstick perfectly applied. She’s holding a metal water bottle with her coffee brand’s logo on the side. She smiles at me as if we’re old pals, but I see the darkness there.

She knows I haven’t returned to make amends.

Before I can say a word or even process my thoughts, the crew zips around me, past me. They rush toward her as if she’s the last bit of oxygen in the room, faces lit up.

“Dr. Ralston! Perfect timing! We were just talking about getting you on camera for a quick soundbite. The lighting’s amazing right now, and we thought this shot was better suited to you than Dani anyway. We had a different idea to use her for another day, if you’re up for it.”

But she’s not looking at them, not registering that they’ve flocked around her. Her eyes, those golden-brown eyes I used to have memorized, are locked on mine. “Lila,” she says again, and I hold my breath. “I didn’t know you were here.”

The lie slips from her tongue as easily as ever. She knew. Even if she didn’t know I was coming, she saw me last night. Her words crawl under my skin like bugs, uncomfortable and itchy.

“Oh? No one informed Your Highness of my arrival?”

Her eyes flick to the crew then, acknowledging them for the first time. She smiles, but there’s steel in it. “Could we speak privately?”

“Not interested.”

I try to move past her, but she turns. “Wait.” She doesn’t even have to touch me.

I stop in my tracks on command. A good little girl.

She glances at the crew, then steps closer, her voice low enough now I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear it.

“You’ve made your point.” Then, she raises her voice, only slightly, but enough so they can hear.

“You’re not well, Lila. I understand. But I think it’s time you left Havenport. Went home to rest.”

My blood runs cold. I turn my head to look at her. “I’m not well? That’s your angle? Still couldn’t come up with something original, huh?”

She looks at me. From a distance, if you don’t know her, I can see how you’d think the look in her eyes is one of concern. I see it like a veil. It’s the look you’d give a wounded animal you’re generously trying not to put down in front of company.

But just behind that veil? Pure hatred.

She’d love nothing more than to put me down. To ruin me further in front of these people. In front of the world.

And she could do it, too. That’s the worst part. They believe her. They love her.

Already, Trey is circling her with questions—how does she want to be lit? Should they call in hair and makeup? Should they move the chairs? Can she walk with Dani for a few wide shots?

Just like that, no one’s looking at me anymore.

I’m not even here.

I’m just background noise to their perfect frame. A shadow in the momentarily gorgeous lighting.

Ralston gives me one final look, then a smile. With teeth.

She’s a wild animal. A panther. And they think if they walk with her, align themselves with her, they’ll be safe.

She turns away, and the crew follows her like she’s gravity.

I stand in place, invisible again, the light removed from my face.

She thinks she’s won as they quickly remove Dani from her seat and begin resetting the shot with Ralston in mind. I watch Dani, quietly misplaced, and happy to be so.

She meets my eyes just once, but it’s with pity. Not for herself; for me. She can’t see Ralston for what she is any more than they can, but they will.

I’m not giving up. I haven’t been defeated.

I’m just sharpening claws of my own. If they won’t listen yet, they will soon. They all will. I’m not the girl I once was. I won’t give up so easily this time.