Madison #2
But Madison figured that, with an uncaring and aloof partner like Cale, Meredith would need outside care if she was indeed ill.
Despite Parker being so tethered to his mother, he’d ripped Madison away from hers—and her entire family.
Isolating her in her apartment, he’d love-bomb her relentlessly while simultaneously cutting her down in small, constant ways.
He would be waiting outside Pacific Records every evening at 5:30 on the dot, walking her home like a chaperone, ensuring she spent every free evening with him. Not friends. Not family. Only him.
Her feelings were always overreactions, her ambitions became silly games, her friends were “toxic.” And oh, how he cast himself as a martyr. He was always the misunderstood hero, always the wounded boy nursing invisible scars.
By the fifth month, Madison could see him for what he really was: a leech. Nothing but a predatory worm, feeding off Madison’s plump, happy life. A bloodsucking parasite. She couldn’t even see the emotional scars Parker Lane left behind until she broke up with him in July.
She felt ashamed she’d ever mistaken his fixation for love.
She had done it in public, during their walk home from Pacific Records, on a crowded sidewalk where witnesses would be close enough to hear if he erupted into tantrums or threats.
She had braced herself for theatrics—for him to cry, to beg, to declare he’d die without her.
But he didn’t. He listened quietly, unnervingly calm, his dark eyes unblinking.
She told him she needed space, that she didn’t want to be in a relationship—afraid to be truthful, to tell him that she found him strange, and suffocating, that she could feel her life force bleeding out every time she looked at him.
When she got back to her apartment that night, a full sob broke through her when she saw herself in the mirror.
She saw the physically broken reflection of a woman beaten down—her light now casting only a subdued shadow, when it was once as dazzling as the star atop the gigantic Christmas tree downtown.
The one that goes up on Black Friday each year in Westlake Park.
But then she smiled, proud she had finally let him go. That she could inch backward to the bright, excitable young woman she was before.
Even now, two months without contact, she can’t help but hold that pride.
She got out.
Yet here he is, acting almost… commonplace.
“Hey,” Madison says, the shock in her voice obvious. “What are you doing here?”
He has one arm draped across the headrest of the passenger seat. “My new girlfriend lives in this building,” Parker says, nodding to the charming complex behind her shoulder. “Can’t believe I ran into you. I was just stopping by to cook dinner for her.”
Cooking dinner. Parker had always been good at that. Another thing that had made him seem like boyfriend material.
Madison exhales, her shoulders loosening. Hearing that he’s with someone new makes her believe, however naively, that he’s let her go. Still, the thought of him being this close to her apartment unsettles her. She prays that running into Parker won’t become routine.
“Well, good. That’s nice to hear,” she says, and means it. “I have to go home, but I hope you two have a great night. Hope you’re doing well.”
She turns, rising from her crouch, when he blurts, “Madison.” It halts her like he tugged a leash. He leans forward in his seat, dark eyes steady on hers. “I’m glad I saw you. I… I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, she steps closer, resting her hand on the roof of the car as she dips her head inside the open doorframe, waiting.
“My mom passed away a few weeks ago,” he says, a hand raking through his hair. “I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about it. My girlfriend never met her. So it’s… hard for her to understand.”
Madison’s expression falls. Months ago, she’d been part of the Lanes’ circle. It would have crushed her to hear this.
For all his faults, there were good parts of him she had loved. And he’d never had many friends. The thought of him alone in grief stirs a pang of guilt.
Then she remembers the manipulation. The smooth talking.
She mentally puts her guard up.
Still, she slides into the passenger seat, if only for a moment, dropping her purse on the mat by her boots, angling herself toward him to offer a semblance of comfort.
That’s when she notices it: a faint chemical tang. Not car wash soap, not cologne. It’s more medicinal. It has a sharpness that makes her nose twitch.
“That’s terrible,” she says. “Meredith was… she was a great woman.”
She doesn’t know if she means it, as all she remembers about Meredith is her meekness.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “Her heart finally gave out. She had been battling for so long.”
Madison’s brow can’t help but furrow. She was aware only that Meredith had cancer. She never felt comfortable pressing to learn what kind. She wonders if the disease affected her heart, or if this was another issue.
“What kind of cancer did your mom have?” she asks.
“Cancer?” Parker asks, voice hardening. He stares at her, confused. “She had heart disease. I told you this months ago.” His tone has changed from sadness to frustration, his eyes suddenly shifting in anxiety. Parker looks to the street, and then all around him.
Before she can make an excuse to exit the car, finish her walk home, the medicinal smell grows as Parker shoves something soft into her face, forcing her head down on his palm.
She coughs and gags into it. It’s searing her sinuses. She rakes at his wrist, but her body won’t obey, her head spinning, mouth flooding with a metallic taste.
Her last thought is that she should never have leaned inside this car.
Then the world goes black.