Chapter 29
Lizzy
The tremors running through my hands are so violent that I have to clutch them together in my lap to calm myself. All my worst fears come crashing down. Someone has come after me to take revenge for what I’ve done. My past has finally caught up to me.
A hand lands on my knee giving it a soft rub. Looking up, Bash’s concerned eyes land on mine. I know he said nothing would change his image of me, but he doesn’t know what I’ve done.
He waits patiently while I gather my thoughts, trying to figure out where to begin. How do I even say it in a way that exonerates me? I did what I had to do to survive, but what if he doesn’t understand?
“Growing up, it was just my mom and me. We were poor. So poor. There were times we’d have to catch our own food because we couldn’t afford anything else.
School was a reprieve. Senior year of high school, this guy from the city, Vincent, started showing an interest in me.
He was older and had money. He would buy me things I could never imagine having and bring me places I’d never been before.
” I sigh as Bash tenses. He knows where this is going. Or at least the start of it.
“I was young and na?ve. My mom warned me against him, against men who give you the world at first, because the other shoe will always drop. She tried to forbid me from seeing him. So, when I turned eighteen, I dropped out of high school with two months left and moved in with Vincent.
“The first few months were perfect. He continued to spoil me. I was living a life I’d never imagined I’d experience.
There was never an empty cupboard, and he never said no to anything.
I think I knew deep down that the money was dirty.
That there was no legal explanation for how much cash he brought in.
How he always worked at night, and how there were places in town we couldn’t frequent.
But I turned a blind eye because I knew my ignorance was the only thing keeping me with him.
“It wasn’t even when Vincent would leave in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood that I started worrying.
It was the late nights he’d come home drunk and volatile.
At first, he wounded me with harsh words, then they turned to wild accusations.
He’d accuse me of cheating, even though I rarely left the house.
Even though I’d found a bra in his car that wasn’t mine.
“When he punched a hole in the wall, I was convinced he’d never hit me.
He did that instead of hurting me. To release his anger on an inanimate object instead of me.
The first time he laid his hands on me, I told myself it was a one-time thing.
He was so apologetic. But two months later, he did it again.
And again. And again. It got to the point where I knew if I let this go on, he’d kill me.
” The tears welling in my eyes aren’t from the memory of the pain, but from the admission of what comes next. My greatest sin.
The door is thrown open so hard it ricochets off the wall. Even as tremors run through me, I feel calmer than I have in a while. I shove the metal deeper between two couch cushions. The feeling of the steel fills me with the strength I need to end this life.
His smell enters the living room before he does. But the familiar stomp-shuffle in his drunk or high state is unmistakable.
“ELIZABETH! Come here! I’m home.” His voice while booming is slurred. I hate the thought that it makes this easier for me. Drunk means he’s slower than usual.
“Elizabeth, I’m not playing games tonight,” his threatening tone has sweat breaking out on my forehead. But he doesn’t realize he’s the prey tonight. He’ll fall victim to my hunger for survival.
Before he can round the couch and see me, I sit up.
Yawning and rubbing false sleep from my eyes, I pretend he woke me.
When really, sleep has evaded me for weeks.
Not just from anticipation of tonight, but from fear of him killing me while I’m defenseless in a dream state.
After tonight, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep again.
“There you are, baby,” he muses in the sweet voice that used to have me on my knees for him. But it’s been a long time since I’ve believed it.
“It’s late, Vincent. Where were you?” It’ll piss him off. He hates it when I question him. But I don’t think I can do this if he’s happy and kind, even if it’s a pretense. I need him furious and violent. Irrational. I need to convince myself it’s self-defense.
As expected, he sneers at the question. “None of your damn business, you stupid bitch.”
“So, you were with other women, then? Cheating as always,” I match his tone, mine full of a hatred I’ve never shown him.
“Look at everything I do for you. And now you’re questioning me? You spend my money and live in my house! You have no idea what I do to spoil you. It’d make you sick.” He spits his chewing tobacco on the floor, then gestures at it, silently commanding me to clean it.
But I don’t.
Despite the harsh words, it isn’t enough yet. He isn’t angry enough. There’s still traces of humanity left in him. So, I keep pushing.
“Do your whores know about me? Or do you pay them enough not to care?”
He moves so fast that I don’t register the slap across my face until I’m on the floor. Jumping to my feet, I reevaluate my situation. He’s positioned between me and the couch. My weapon proved pointless because of its distance from me.
“You don’t talk to me like this. What the fuck is going on with you?
You think because you live in my house that I’ll let you disrespect me like this?
” He pounces at me, but I sidestep. For once, my height is an advantage because I drop under his grip and tumble onto the couch.
Missing me throws him off balance, bringing him down.
I use the few seconds to my advantage. Rounding the couch, I add another obstacle between us. Then, I dig between the cushions, until my fingers lock around the gun I purchased a week ago.
He gets to his feet with a murderous look in his eyes. The one I’ve been waiting for. The one I need.
“Maybe I’ve let you run wild for too long. It’s time you get what you deserve. I gave you this life, I can take it away.” The glint in his eyes as he cracks his knuckles is all I need.
I raise my hand from between the cushions and aim the gun at him.
“No. You don’t get to hurt me anymore,” I swear to him.
Instead of looking scared, he throws his head back and lets out a shrill laugh. “You stupid girl. You think that little pocket pistol scares me?”
“I’m leaving.” My voice is weaker than I expected, but my resolve is still strong.
“You can’t go anywhere I won’t find you. And when I drag you back here, you’ll regret ever trying to leave me.” His words echo a sentiment I know to be true. One I took into account. But I’m leaving no matter what, and I am prepared for this situation.
“I know. Which is why you’re never going to get the chance to follow me.” I blink back tears I didn’t realize were pooling. The lump in my throat gets bigger, making each breath a gasp.
This is the man who saved me from my poverty. Who gave me the world. The only man I’ve ever loved. How could he have changed so much? Maybe he was never truly my hero. It was all a farce. As all our good memories fly through my mind, a tear drips down my cheek. Then another.
With the fall of the first, his expression changes. The gravity of the situation dawns on him. “Elizabeth, put down the gun. You’re acting crazy, baby. Those women don’t mean anything. I’ll stop seeing them.”
I scoff. He doesn’t get it. “I don’t care about them. It’s you. You’re the problem. You’ve hurt me for too long.”
“Baby, I’m sorry. You know I love you.” He musters up a smile so fake, it solidifies the end for me.
“I’m sorry too, Vincent,” I tell him as I pull the trigger over and over until the gun is empty.
His body is on the carpet with pools of red dyeing his t-shirt. The scarlet liquid of the few bullets that met their mark pools together until his torso is one large, sticky mass.
My tears run freely. Sob after choked sob escapes me. Running to his corpse, I say a silent prayer to a God I don’t know, begging him. I don’t know what for. Surely not to save Vincent. Maybe to forgive me.
I close his eyes, letting him rest in peace. His beautiful face was left unscathed. Looking at it, I could convince myself he just passed out on the carpet again. But the stench of sulfur hits my nose, pushing me into drive.
I dig his car keys out of his bloody pocket and bring them to the safe in our room. I’ve never seen the inside of it, but the numerous stacks of hundreds surprises me. I load them all into my packed duffle bag, not even counting the tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of dollars.
Then I take the keys and my bag to his car and drive to the nearest bus stop with the fake identification I already procured.
I keep traveling and never look back. I don’t let myself dwell on what I had to do.
And I let myself forget. I forget Vincent.
I forget Mississippi. And I forget my great sin.
Blinking back to reality, I feel dampness on my cheek. Bringing my shaking hands up, I realize they’re tears. The first ones I’ve allowed myself to shed over the murder I committed.
“Lizzy, you did what you had to do. You saved yourself.” Bash grips my hands and kisses them. It’s as though he’s cleaning the death from them. Purifying them. How could a man so pure ever understand.
“You don’t hate me?” I scarcely let myself believe.
“Of course not, angel. You’re still my Lizzy Lewis. You’re so strong. You did what many can’t. And I’m proud of you.” He slowly wraps his arms around me, giving me time to pull away. When I don’t, he plants me on his lap.
I succumb to his warmth and let him hold me.
“Thank you, Bash,” I lean back and whisper. I search his eyes, and when I find no hesitation, I lean forward.
But he dodges my kiss, and my world crumbles around me. He doesn’t want me anymore.
“I’m sorry. I–”
“It’s not you.” He stops me, not allowing me to apologize. “I have to be honest with you now. I’m so sorry for what I’m about to confess.”
He looks down in shame, but I know nothing can make me dislike this man. I love him too much.