She leaned down to kiss him on the mouth. “Good luck, Chuck. You’ll need it.”
She left him then and retrieved her tote bag. She cast a final, lingering glance around the room.
Another house full of dead.
A strong sense of déjà vu made her shiver.
She wouldn’t be burning this house down, though.
Her gaze lingered on Rob’s unconscious form a moment longer. A pang of regret flashed through her. She really did care about him. Him, and no one else. But he wasn’t fit for life with her. At least not yet.
She turned away from him and walked out of the house.
Epilogue
Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated July 11
I can’t believe the bitch fucking shot me. TWICE. Like…how fucked-up is that? It HURT. I mean…holy shit, I can’t even tell you. Imagine a dentist doing drill work without happy gas or anesthetic. It’s like that. Times a million and ten. My advice? Don’t ever get fucking shot, because it fucking SUCKS.
Anyway…I guess the bitch got sloppy there at the end because she didn’t finish me off. But sometimes I wonder…maybe she didn’t want to kill me. That’s the only thing that keeps me from totally hating her. That, and the fact she was kind of right about me moving in on her territory. I guess I would’ve been pretty pissed, too. But she could’ve just said something, you know? Like, “Hey, that’s my man, bitch, so BACK OFF.” But no, she FUCKING SHOT ME.
But then she goes and leaves him behind too, so WHAT THE FUCK!!!???
At least she didn’t shoot me in the head. A kill shot would have been easy. So maybe…
I guess I’m just lucky to be here. I could be in jail. My bail was set at some ridiculous amount. We’re talking millions. So high I guess they figured I’d be behind bars until my trial. But there’s something I’ve never told you guys. I know, you thought I spewed everything here, but not so. To me, this is more embarrassing than anything I’ve ever talked about. My father is a CEO and is fucking LOADED. So I’m home. And I am not having fun. You would not believe the tension. And I hate this monitoring thing I have to wear around my ankle. But I have to stay focused on the positive. Dad has hired the best fucking lawyers. You wouldn’t believe the schemes and machinations of these guys. Turns out every bad fucking thing you’ve ever heard about lawyers is totally fucking true, man. They’re sharks. Badass fucking SHARKS. At least the ones my dad can afford are. I thought I was doomed before I started talking to these guys, but now I’m totally confident I’ll never spend even one night in jail. If you’ve been reading the news coverage-and I know you have-you know it’s all like “Patty Hearst, Stockholm syndrome, blahblahblah.” I had to Google that shit. So there’s that, and I guess they’re gonna play up the “crazy” angle, too.
I mean…I guess I am crazy. I don’t know how else to explain Lulu.
She’s been giving me some pretty weird advice. Things I might want to do after the trial’s over and I’m totally free again. Although “advice” isn’t exactly the right word. It’s more like…instructions. It creeps me out a little, but I’m starting to understand why Zeb was so fucked-up. I guess I’m fucked-up, too. Duh, right?
I am so hoping for a book or movie deal once this thing is behind me. I don’t think the victim’s-rights laws apply if you’re exonerated, which I will be. Which is the one big reason I hope Emily Sinclair is found guilty and winds upon death fucking row. If she skates and writes a book or something, all the big money people will go to her first. The TV fuckers can’t get enough of her. Pisses me off. “The glamorous femme fatale, blahblahblah.” Okay. I get it. She’s gorgeous (too bad about the hand though, hahah). But I’m pretty fucking hot, too. Oh well. At least my hair’s growing out. I’m looking less like Britney Spears during her meltdown phase, so that’s good.
I guess I’ve said about all I have to say for now. All five of you still on my friends list should feel pretty up-to-date. LOL. Mommy dearest wanted to cut off my web access altogether after the cops seized my old laptop and found all those autopsy pictures and shit. But I whined to Dad and today he surprised me with a new laptop. Really must resist the urge to visit some favorite sites. Oh well. It’ll be something else to look forward to once this thing is behind me. Ta-ta for now!
(P.S.: I really hope I see Missy again someday. I miss her. I know, I know. Crazy. No shit. We’ve covered that already.)
6 comments
lord_ruthven: You know I’ll do anything for you or help any way I can.
Mixedupgirclass="underline" I know. And forget what I said about never fucking you again. I was just playing hard to get. I’m pretty horny. LOL. I haven’t been laid since March.
darkest_rogue: I don’t care what you did. You rule.
Mixedupgirclass="underline" I know. No shit.
Aliciaroxx: Can I come over tonight?
Mixedupgirclass="underline" Hey! I thought you were ignoring me. So we’re still friends? Yay! Yeah, if your parents let you, come over. And bring YOUR laptop!
The long table and the two chairs at its opposing ends were the only pieces of furniture in the white room. Rob sat at one end of the table. He and the guard posted at the door were the only people in the room. The guard wasn’t talking. The correctional officer’s cold, openly hostile glare made him uncomfortable. The man’s right hand stayed on the collapsible baton clipped to his belt. Rob had the distinct feeling he’d like nothing better than some excuse to whip it out and beat him senseless with it. So Rob stayed quiet and barely moved. Not that he had much choice about the latter. The heavy leg irons and handcuffs made movement difficult. He wouldn’t be any real threat without the restraints, of course, but he was considered “extremely dangerous.” Which was really kind of funny. Here he was, basically rotting in jail, while the really dangerous ones were still out there in the world.
Funny, but not ha-ha funny.
It was pretty damn depressing, really.
The room’s only door opened and another guard walked inside, followed by the person he’d been waiting to see.
Tears came to his eyes as he started to stand. “Lindsey…”
The guard who’d been watching him glared. “Sit down.”
Rob sat but kept on smiling. “It’s so good to see you.”
Lindsey sat at the opposite end of the table. He’d never seen her looking more beautiful. She looked like a woman dressed for an evening at an expensive restaurant, wearing a pretty green dress with a hem that ended just above the knees. And high heels. That was amazing. She never wore high heels. She had on more makeup than usual and her hair had been done recently. It hung in thick, lustrous curls to her shoulders. She’d also had a manicure recently. His gaze lingered on her slender hands for a moment. On her ring finger was a cheap plastic ring purchased from a gumball machine a long time ago, back in their high-school days. He’d given it to her as a gag gift. He couldn’t believe she’d kept it all these years. He was so touched. His eyes misted again. She loved him. He knew that now. How could he have been so blind?
The door clicked shut and both guards stayed in the room, flanking the door.
Lindsey smiled. “It’s good to see you, Rob. How are you holding up?”
He forced his smile to stay in place. “I’m doing okay.”
Lindsey folded her arms on the table and leaned toward him. “You’re in jail, Rob. Don’t lie for my sake. Tell me the truth.”
He sighed. “I’m fucking miserable.”
Rob’s eyes flicked to the mean-spirited guard. The smug asshole was smirking.
Lindsey frowned. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shrugged. “Did you bring those books from my uncle?”
“Yeah. I had to surrender them when I came in. They said they’d get them to you.”
The guard’s smirk deepened.
Rob had a feeling he’d never see those books. Or if he did, some of the pages would be torn out. They’d done it before. Fucking assholes. One or two of the guards were okay and almost humane, but mostly they were sadistic little dictators, exercising power over the incarcerated just because they could. He doubted he could make Lindsey understand just how miserable prison life was. Or how unfair it was, in his case. He hadn’t killed anybody. Julie had tortured and killed at least a dozen over the course of just a few days, but she got to sleep in her own bed every night. His uncle was helping out as best he could, but he just didn’t have the deep pockets Julie’s father had.