He kept glancing down at something. What is he looking at?
Something in my hand. I can almost feel it. It’s wet and rough and—
“Whose blood is that?”
“Lucy, no.” Matt’s voice is sharp. I blink and he comes into focus. Present Matt. He’s got both hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Stop.”
“No, I remember something, I remember—”
“Oh my god Lucy, what did you do? Oh god. Is she dead?”
“Let’s kill…” I say the words out loud. I said the words then, to Matt. The forest takes shape around me.
“Let’s kill…” My brain was short-circuiting. I could hear Savvy in my head, on a loop as I stood in front of my frantic husband. Fat raindrops hit my skin, landing on my eyelashes and blurring Matt’s face.
“What?” Matt dropped his hands from my face in shock. “You killed someone?”
“Deserved it,” I muttered. “We had a plan.”
“Jesus Christ.” He took a step back, his horrified expression intensifying.
“Savvy tried to…”
“To what? Lucy, what did Savvy try to do?”
“I know.” Matt shakes me gently, bringing me back to the present. “Lucy, I know that you had to.”
I can see it now. I was holding a tree branch. Huge and thick and covered in blood.
I screamed, and I dropped it.
And then I ran.
I’m breathing too fast. My vision is tunneling. Matt still has his hands on my cheeks. I think he’s holding me upright.
“I don’t know what went on between you two out there in the woods, but I know that you did what you had to do,” he says firmly. “I am so sorry that I got there too late and I couldn’t protect you.”
“Why did you…” I can’t get words out. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you call the police? When you saw me that night? Why did they find me the next morning…？”
“I looked for you. But I grabbed that tree branch first and I took it to the trunk of my car, because I knew it would be harder for them to convict you without a murder weapon. I drove it down to the main road and dropped it in a dumpster behind a bar. When I came back, it had started raining really hard, and the road was flooded and I couldn’t get to where you’d been. I thought you’d go home, but when I got there … well, you weren’t.”
I shake my head. I’m fully sobbing now.
“It’s okay,” he says gently. “I was trying to protect you back then, and I completely botched it. I was drunk and stupid and then I freaked out about everything when you got home. It’s my fault.”
A shudder goes through me.
He puts a hand to his chest. “Seriously, it’s my fault. Things had gotten out of hand between us back then, and I knew it. I should have stopped us. I shouldn’t have let it go on so long.”
I blink at him, confused.
“The fighting,” he says. “The way we used to go at each other, hurt each other. It got to you and changed you, and I know that’s partially my fault. I don’t think you could stop yourself, that night.”
I draw a ragged breath. The way he’s describing the violence in our marriage—the violence he started, the violence that only ever left me with serious injuries—doesn’t seem right.
None of this seems right.
“Blame me,” he continues. “Scream at me. I deserve it.”
I stand and stumble backward, away from him. “No. I didn’t kill her. I never would have—no.”
He stands as well. “She tried to hurt you. I don’t know why, but you told me that she did. I should have just called the police right that second and we could have claimed self-defense, but I was drunk and I panicked. And—” He cuts himself off.
I look at him sharply. “And?”
He hesitates. “Why don’t you go lie down? Or take a bath? You love that tub. I’ll run it for you.”
He reaches for me. His fingers brush my wrist before I yank it away.
I rush to the door like he’s going to chase me. He doesn’t.
I throw it open and look back at him. “You’re lying.”
He slides both hands into his pockets with a sigh. “Lucy, please just let it go. You don’t want to remember anything else. Trust me.”
I don’t trust him. I didn’t then, and I don’t now.
I walk out, slamming the door shut behind me.
LUCY
FIVE YEARS AGO