Kate

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He’s stronger than I thought. I should’ve run while I had the chance. I feel like I’m wrestling an octopus: slimy, and too many limbs. He’s not so much fighting me as draping himself over me, clinging on for dear life.

I shove his face away from my chest. “Don’t touch me.”

“Then promise—” He snakes his arm around my waist. “Promise you’ll come with me. Let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t make this up to me.” I grind the heel of my hand into his nose. He whimpers, but doesn’t let go.

“Please. Please.”

“Answer’s...still...no!” I peel his fingers off my back, only to feel them on my leg. “Shit, would you just—what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Say you won’t leave me.”

“Christ’s sake, Wes!”

And now he’s bearing me down, hooking his leg around mine to cut my knees out from under me. And that can’t happen—I cannot be on the floor with him, under him; never again. I land a vicious kick to his ankle. He yelps, stumbles, and doesn’t let go... He’s worse than an octopus. He’s a boa constrictor, squeezing the will to live right out of me. I grab the counter for balance, staggering when it buckles under my weight.

“I never killed Dev. Why can’t you believe me?”

“That—ow!” I jerk as his nails dig into my thigh. “That’s not even the issue! So you didn’t kill Dev—the rest was still you. Still heinous.” I’m panting, squirming in his grasp. This is a nightmare: it has to be. Any second, the room will fill with water and turn into my office. And I’ll be naked.

“Haven’t I been a good friend?” Wes lets go of my leg and wraps both arms around my shoulders. “Didn’t I come through for you after your wedding?”

“The one you ruined?”

“Apart from that, though?—haven’t I?”

I elbow him hard. There’s no reasoning with him, and this gross little slow dance is over.

“Kate!”

“No. Fuck off.” I wrench one arm free and ram the flat of my hand into his nose. He falls back, bleeding, and I grab the lantern off the table. “This is for Kyle!” I bash him round the earhole and he goes down hard. His knees crack on the linoleum, then his shoulder, as he crumples on his side.

“Ow...help....”

“Help yourself.” I snatch my phone off the floor and walk out. It feels good to slam the door on him, better still to break into a run. By the time I reach the car, I’m going full pelt. He’s left the keys in the ignition—was he always planning on spiriting me away tonight? Jesus—is his dad even sick? Was this all some grubby bid for my affection?

“Fucking Wes!”

I zip my jacket up to my throat to hide Wes’s blood: last thing I need is to get pulled over looking like a serial killer. It’s on my face, too, a great gory smear down my cheek. I scrub it off and tramp on the gas, tearing up what’s left of the lawn as I peel out. Can’t get away from here fast enough. Wes!—it was Wes; Max was right, and I need to warn him. Who knows what Wes might do, confronted with the man I chose over him, not once but twice?

I’ll pull over and text him, but not yet. I want out of town, need that distance between me and the horrorshow at my back. The hell...the hell’s wrong with him? It’s like there’s a piece missing, the piece that understands...understands people, what it means to be human—How could he think I’d have left with him, after everything he did? And all because I laughed, not even at him, but at the situation, the absurdity of it, and he fucking laughed, too—I don’t get it.

He must’ve been like this all along. That weird, naïve way about him, that wasn’t sweetness, or even awkwardness; it was...emptiness. Just a great, sucking void in the middle of him, dragging us all into its depths.

I swing the car off the road at a gas station. My phone’s down to its last sliver of battery life, but I manage to squeeze off a text: HOLY FUCK WES DID IT!!!!! Am safe, driving back now. Look for me!

The dead battery screen flashes and my phone goes dark. I mash the home button—damn it, I need the cops here, like now—but no joy. Fuck. He’s going to escape, and who knows what he might do, denied his happy ending? The look in his eyes when he came for me... There was nothing sane in that. Nothing reasonable.

Max is on his way, and he’ll have his phone. With any luck, he’s close: I need this over.

I goose the gas and leave Lake George behind me, hopefully for the last time.