Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“And I just know that’s part of what led to all this. You have these issues you need to work through, and we’re trying.”
“Even the worst days without you have been better than the best days with you.”
It was as though she hadn’t even heard me. “Clearly you aren’t making good choices. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see you’re slipping from yourself?”
“No, Sheila,” I spit the words out louder than I’d intended, bashing my fist on the table in a way that had her eyeing my fist with concern. “You’re not doing this anymore. You’re not convincing me that I’m bad or evil or misguided or confused.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what really happened in this house for four years. I’m talking about the confusion and gaslighting and cruelty. Time and again, you fucking around with one person after the next. I’m confused why you even want me here still, but I actually got an answer to that question…”
She eyed me peculiarly.
“Do you remember that night in the hotel room? I told you I was trying to figure out something about you?”
She almost seemed to be listening for the first time, but couldn’t come up with a response.
“Sheila, I don’t think you’re a woman who just makes mistakes anymore.”
Her expression stiffened. Her eyes were cold, unreadable. It was as though she was working out a plan for how to deal with me now that I’d pulled back the mask and seen the real woman beneath it.
“I’m not a monster,” she said.
“I think that’s something we’ll have to agree to disagree about.”
She stared at me, plotting her next move, I imagined. There was something darkly gratifying about knowing she couldn’t so effortlessly get out of this one, not now that she didn’t have me questioning my every thought.
“I think the reason I always lost is because I was always fighting fair,” I said, “but you weren’t, were you? Lie after lie, manipulation after deception, you found a way to keep me from ever being able to fight you back. It’s my turn now.”
“Your turn? James, what is coming over you? This is worse than I thought.”
“I have video of you with Brent Wilson.” I threw it out there. It was time.
She was quiet for several moments.
“Do you remember Brent Wilson?” I prompted, and her face remained stiff, like she wasn’t willing to give away anything more than that.
She wasn’t the kind to show her hand. No, she was never as foolish as I had been.
“I don’t need a reply,” I added. “I have the video all the same. I’ve had to familiarize myself with Georgia code Title 16, Chapter 6, for obvious reasons, so in case you aren’t aware, it is illegal since you were counseling him at the time of the recording. I imagine if that makes its way public, you’ll have your own issues, if not legally, then at least damaging to your career, this PhD program you’re finishing up.”
She continued staring at me like she didn’t even know me.
And maybe she didn’t. Maybe because the James she had been with had died at the hand of all her fucked-up games.
“There’s no such video.”
Denial. No surprise there.
“I never told you how I found out the truth,” I admitted. “I was too ashamed of what I saw, which is why I blamed the texts under that fake name. You didn’t need to know I’d seen you getting hammered by a client.”
“You went through my phone to find video of me?” she asked, acting horrified by the thought.
“No, Sheila. Remember when you kept trying to upload lecture files to my laptop? I guess you hadn’t fixed the settings right because it synced up all your media content to my Mac. And there they were. Plenty of videos.”
“And you kept them?” Her tone suggested she was looking for some way to make me the bad guy in this. The perv who jerked off to images of his wife having an affair.
“I kept them because I didn’t have the strength to go back to the files and acknowledge they even existed. I hoped one day I would, but now I have copies, Sheila. And I don’t give a fuck what you do to me as long as you go down with me.”
“Who is this? Who have you become?” She sounded afraid, like she was the victim.
“I don’t know what I’ve become, but I like it a lot more than that pathetic guy who wept at his computer, thinking it was all him, that he was the one who was broken, messed up, fucked up. But it was you all along.”
“I made a mistake, but—”
“You never made any mistakes, Sheila. Just like you didn’t come to me last night because you wanted to let me know you were going to the police. You never were lost. You never were uncertain. But now you are.”