Her bags are packed (she doesn't have many) by the time he returns from breakfast with the other part of his life. She's rehearsed the lines she needs to say in order to drive him away, to let her leave so that he'd be free to live the life father, widow without having to worry about the one he shares with his 'partner' bleeding into the other.
She feeds him the lies (a little too convincingly), and when the plates he throws in a display of emotion collides with the stove, she feels something shatter inside.
I don't hate you. I'll never hate you.
She comforts him. She needs it too (needs him) but she can't poison him any more than she already has.
She does utter one truth.
She doesn't really want to go.
Her rental car contains nothing more than one suitcase, a duffel bag and her purse. Inside her purse is her wallet, two blood slides, a pair of leather gloves and a pocket knife.
A sliver of the plates he had broken this morning presses against her chest.
They all remind her of him.
She drives until she reaches Fort Lauderdale, where she pulls up on the side of the road, rests her head on the wheel and gasps.
She finally allows herself to cry.
For him. Them. (She doesn't think she's worth crying solely for herself).
But the tears continue to flow until she's sobbed herself dry and her body can't take it anymore.
She then leans back against the headrest, attempting to stifle the hiccups. After a few moments (an eternity), her breathing evens out and she can almost convince herself that she's doing the right thing.
Almost.
When she stops for fuel, she peruses the not-so-vast selection of food available to her at the gas station.
She doesn't want to eat, despite the almost constant groaning of her stomach.
She pays for the gas and buys some dry packaged biscuits with a bottle of water. She then deposits them into the car and heads to the bathroom.
As she washes her hands, she looks down at her fingers, nails neatly trimmed. She examines each digit in excruciating detail to find no trace of blood underneath them, no evidence that she had been the one to murder Jordan Chase. A booming roar resounds from within her, her demons screaming for more sacrifice.
She looks down at her hands.
Soap and water have washed away more than blood; it's taken the only form of payment that grants her a moment's peace from the monster within.
TBC