Chapter 60
CHAPTER 60
SARAH
Sitting at the desk in the corner of her bedroom, Sarah stared at the notes lying on the polished orangewood surface.
There were three, recovered from Phil’s luggage when she’d checked his room earlier.
The notes she’d sent to him.
Gazing at her small, loopy cursive, Sarah read the messages. Her written confessions. Her secrets exposed.
They lied to you.
You did nothing wrong.
They know you’ re innocent.
She didn’t get the chance to explain to Phil what the notes meant. Or, why she’d sent them.
Sarah had imagined professing a profound revelation, eloquent and remarkable, explaining and expounding on her mental anguish and distress, which she’d fought to come to terms with, and had eventually overcome. She would assure Phil that despite her poor decisions, she had taken accountability and responsibility for her actions and wanted to make amends.
The truth was she’d sent Phil the notes because she couldn’t get past the guilt.
Couldn’t stop hating herself for letting Alex talk her into going along with his stupid idea. An idea Mia had introduced to her and had tried to convince Sarah it was in her best interest to accept.
Sarah had been hesitant.
So Alex swooped in to close the deal.
“Don’t you want to make Phil pay for what he did to you?” Alex had asked. A few days had passed since Phil’s party, and they were lying in bed, sweaty and panting from hours of violent sex, which Sarah craved, even though she hated herself for liking it. Still, she wouldn’t give it up, and she relished the idea of sleeping with Mia’s boyfriend.
Pulling the thin, dingy sheets over her naked body, Sarah stared at the water-stained ceiling. “That’s the problem.”
“What’s the problem?” Alex asked, propped up on his elbow, staring at her.
“I want to make Phil pay,” Sarah said, staring at the ceiling. “But … not in the way you do. ”
“What do you mean?”
Sarah let out a breath. “I don’t want money.”
“What do you want?”
Sarah glanced at him. “Justice … “
Eyes narrowed, Alex scowled. “Justice?”
“I want Phil behind bars.”
Alex scoffed. “You can’t call the cops on Phil.”
“Why not?” Sarah asked. “It’s not too late. I mean, sure, there’s probably not much DNA evidence, but there could be some. I still have the clothes I was wearing that night and I haven’t washed them?—”
“You can’t go to the police because Phil didn’t rape you.”
A jolt passed through Sarah. “What?”
“You heard me,” Alex said. “Phil didn’t rape you.”
“But Mia said?—”
“Mia doesn’t know the truth,” Alex said. “Mia knows what she saw. What she thinks she saw, which led her to assume. But that’s not what really happened.”
“What really happened?” Sarah asked, her heart slamming. “Who raped me?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Gasping, Sarah covered her mouth for a few seconds, then dropped her hand. “How can you saw it doesn’t matter? It matters to me! I was violated!”
“Stop being dramatic.”
Sarah fought the urge to spit in his face. “You think I’m being dramatic? I was raped!”
“I’m not saying that what happened to you isn’t fucked up, because it is,” Alex said. “But we need to be smart about this. We have an opportunity to secure our future.”
“At what cost?” Sarah asked. “And at whose expense?”
“If you’re worrying about Phil, then don’t,” Alex said. “His father is a billionaire. His family owns banks.”
“But, still?—”
“I don’t need you fucking this up, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re either with me or against me,” Alex said. “If you’re with me, we can all benefit. But, if you’re against me, and you go to the police, then I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re a lying bitch.”
“And I’ll tell the police what really happened,” Sarah shot back, afraid of his threat, but even more terrified of giving in to him. “I’ll tell them who really raped me.”
“But you don’t know who raped you, Sarah,” Alex said, giving her his malignant smile. “And I’m certainly not going to tell you.”
Sarah looked away.
“Don’t be stupid, okay,” Alex said. “You know you need the money. Phil’s family has more than they can spend in several lifetimes. What they give us will be like winning the lottery for you and me. It’ll be chump change to them.”
“But Phil?—”
“Fuck Phil,” Alex growled through gritted teeth.
“I thought he was your friend.”
Alex sighed. “I’m nothing to him. None of us are. We’re just future cogs in the giant machine that Phil’s family and people like them own. We’re cattle. Sheep. Worker bees. After all, the comfort of the rich depends upon an abundant supply of the poor.”
Sarah sat up and stared at him. “What?”
Alex shook his head. “Nothing. The point is … don’t cry for Phil, okay? What we’re going to do to his father is nothing compared to what his father has done to the thousands of people who toil at his companies, day after day, for pennies on the dollar, with nothing to show for their labor except debt and depression.”
Sarah sighed. She understood the perpetual plight of the poor, which caused the rich to flourish, and other theories of socio-economic disparity, but still … she also believed that two wrongs didn’t make a right. And Phil hadn’t really done anything wrong.
Alex stared at her. “Can I count on you?”
Wary of going against him, Sarah asked, “What if Phil’s dad refuses to pay?”
“He’ll pay me … or else …”
Sarah hadn’t asked him, or else what? She’d let the subject drop, and turned away from him, wrapping herself in the thin, sweaty sheets, hating her cowardice and complicity. But she’d been excited about the money, as well, though she told herself she didn’t want it. Her grandfather, who had helped raise her and was devoutly religious, would call it filthy lucre. Unclean money.
But when Alex gave her the cut she’d earned, Sarah felt deserving of the cash. She’d had to compromise her morals and ethics, she’d told herself at the time, to accept the money.
“Sarah … ”
Startled, Sarah glanced up.
Jason said, “There’s something you need to see.”
Sarah frowned. “What?”
“Follow me … ”
Several minutes later, she stood in the middle of Mia’s bedroom, staring at Mia’s severed head propped against the pillows.
Sarah screamed.