God, I want to vomit. What the fuck is wrong with me? Borderline personality? Maybe. I don’t know anymore. You’d think I’d play it safe, but deep down I love to skirt the line.

“One week. That’s all you’ll have to wait. There’s a boat with your name on it. Tell the ticket guy at the docks your name and he’ll take you where you need to go,” Craig told me before the big heist. “We’ll all meet up in Sicily. We’ll have a big fucking celebration. Pasta, fried squid, wine… it’ll be perfect.”

We’re all good friends and now things feel so incredibly lonely without them. The only thing I have to do to pass the time is read the few books I’ve kept around my place. Other than that, it’s stare at the wall. So I guess that’s another reason why I talked to him. He really seems to have no idea who I am or what I really do for a living. I’m the girl he’s after, in so many ways.

My phone rings the next day, but I don’t answer it. I don’t want to see Marshall. I don’t need that kind of shit right now. It was stupid of me, anyways. No, instead, I head over to a small coffee shop down the block. It’s a total dump, but they always have the TV on, there’s never anyone there, and I figure I can get some news that way. I don’t have a TV at my place, so it works out.

I open the door and Jin, the old Japanese owner, nods in my direction. I nod back and he smiles. My heart is beating quick again. I still haven’t gotten used to the thought that nobody knows what I did. Part of me is waiting for the day where everyone points in my direction, when I’ll feel that heavy lump fall to the pit of my stomach.

No. I can’t think that way.

“Just a drip coffee,” I tell him and I glance at the top right corner of the store. The TV is off. He’s got the radio playing some old tunes instead. A fly buzzes by an open container of alcohol and he shoos it away.

He pours me a cup of coffee and asks, “How’s it been, sweetheart?” Sweetheart. It’s the type of compliment all men give to women in the area. For the most part it’s cute and I accept it around these parts.

“Okay,” I take a sip of the coffee. “Anyway, I’m alive.”

“Yeah, that’s something,” he nods. He doesn’t take it any further.

“Think you can turn the TV on for me? Heard there was some commotion the other day,” I say. It’s a small town. He’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

“The bank thing? They stole a hell of a lot of money,” he laughs and clicks the remote. “Good on them though. Those bankers have been stealing from us for decades. It’s about time someone gave them some payback.”

“I guess so,” I mutter, feeling sort of thrilled by the whole thing. I never really thought about the idea that other people might actually inadvertently be rooting for us, like we’ve done the town a favor or something. I expected pitchforks and mobs, and angry policemen. So far, we’ve gotten very little of any of that.

“It doesn’t worry you?” I ask him. “Seeing people steal like that? It kind of scares me.”

He shrugs. “Nothing really scares me these days. Nothing except myself,” he says.

Truth is, I really relate to that. Nothing scares me either, except my own guilt, and my history. The one thing I could relate to when talking to Marshall last night was when he mentioned his father beating up on his sister like that. My father also beat on us. The only difference was, my mother went right alongside with him. I don’t know what kind of a relationship he has with his family now, if any, but I still see my parents around this city. I still have to be in the same proximity, knowing they got away with everything. I don’t talk to them anymore, but every so often, our eyes meet.

The knowing hurts more than anything.

The TV volume blares and Jin struggles to hit the remote fast enough to turn it down. “The police have offered very little information, but the investigation is going at full speed,” a reporter says. They cut to a prior interview with Marshall’s partner, a man named Adam. He says, “We will find these men and we will bring them to justice.”

It’s a standard answer, and one that has the desired effect, I suppose. They will find these men, perhaps. But will they find the woman? I laugh slightly and Jin eyes me. “See, you think it’s a little funny too. Don’t you?”

“A little bit,” I admit.

“I doubt they’ll find them,” he says.

“I honestly have no clue,” I shrug. “Life goes on, I suppose.”

I think about Marshall and I feel sick to my stomach again. That guy is a bastard. No doubt about it. He’s a cop who fucks women, and probably doesn’t even think to call them back. And yet, I’m drawn to him like a fly to a spider’s web.

Before I get out of this city, I’m going to do everyone a favor. I’m going to respect Jin and everybody else’s wishes. I’m going to take Marshall down.

I am the spider. And he has no idea just how far he’s caught in my web.