I slept long and deep that night, far into the next afternoon, which was unlike me. It was possible that in some sad, desperate way, my body was trying to keep me from inflicting pain on anyone by keeping me unconscious longer. Well, it wasn't going to work. I had a responsibility to myself and to John. Then, as I lay in my bed lazily, I stared directly upwards at the ceiling as if it held some answer for my inquisitive heart.
Will John be grateful to me for telling him? Or will he resent me?
Will he allow Amanda to continue with us here? Or will he drive her away with the guilt?
"Oh God, help me." I murmured to myself, rolling onto my side and clutching my stomach. I will spare you the details, but it was that time of the month and I was feeling extraordinarily unpleasant.
I showered, sitting in the tub with the shower head running, pointed directly on me. I held my head up, positioning my face directly under the raining water. I took this opportunity to cry silently into the stream. I couldn't tell the difference between the saline drops that came from me, and the water that sprayed from the well constructed irrigation systems. That was good; it helped me feel less of a failure. I hugged my knees to my chest, leaning my head into my arms and composed myself.
I've done nothing wrong. John knows I love him, I would never intentionally upset him without reason. This is serious and he needs to know.
And then I thought, clenching my teeth. Amanda would have said something long ago, had it been the other way around.
I knew this for a fact. Why am I still protecting her?
Because I would rather die than hurt John. Yes I would.
Then I washed my hair. After, I shaved my long neglected legs, still sitting in the tub. I cut myself twice because I wasn't paying much mind. The little slashes collected blood and then spilled over. I watched the little red lines race down my leg and then wash away with the running water. I could feel the sting of the cuts, but I was not concerned.
-
After I was dressed, I forced myself to quit pacing a hole into the floor and sit down in my room. As I did this, I heard- "Rivielle."
"Mark?"
"Yes. Are you decent?"
I looked down at myself. I wore a white tank and baggy grey sweats. "Yeah."
He came through the curtain, staring down at me, sitting back on my bed idly, and watching the minutes on the clock. "What do you need?" I asked.
"I need you to get this off your chest. Just…get it over with."
"It'll never be over with. Even if I tell him, everything will just be magnified to larger than life size. It's going to hurt more than it already has...is." I exhaled.
"John will be proud of you." The uncertainty of his tone rang in my ears.
"John will feel betrayed. No more, no less." I looked away.
"How do you know that?"
"Am I the only one who acknowledges that he works every waking moment, and for what? For someone he's helping become better, so they can go behind his back and modify his decisions? For their own bullshit personal conviction!? Remorse isn't in my vocabulary, especially when John makes the verdict." I chucked my pillow against the divider wall, releasing some anger. "Fuck!"
"She felt sorry for him. A tender heart doesn't make her a murderer. It was a mercy killing, Rivielle."
"He didn't deserve mercy! You fail your test, you die. But not by hand of some bleeding heart junkie."
"That's low." He shook his head.
"How can you defend her?! She's weak!"
"And she'll always be that way unless John continues to teach her. You were fragile yourself. In some ways, you retain that flaw. When you throw pillows…" He smirked.
I threw myself backwards onto the bed. I felt defeated. "I know it seems like…I don't hate her…You don't know what she said to me."
"I'm sure it was vile."
"She…told me that you and I appear suspicious to John. She thinks we're sleeping together."
He hesitated. "Who cares what she thinks?"
"I do! I care! I care because she spends more time with John than I ever have, now that she's designing the traps, and that means she could tell him anything and I wouldn't be there to defend myself. Or you for that matter." I could feel my eyes sting with the coming tears. "I don't want him to see me like that. I can't be Candy or Summer or Lacey anymore." I recalled the names the working girls used.
"You're not." He approached me cautiously. "John knows who you are. He knows you've changed." He sat near me.
"He knows the person you've become, and he loves her. As much as he would never admit it. I know what you've sacrificed for him." He looked around. "You've even quit smoking. Bravo."
I wiped my eyes hastily, "I have been trying so hard to make him see me. And I think he does…"
"I do. I saw through your makeup, and so does John."
"I'm indebted."
His fingers grazed my cheek, cupping my chin in his hand and turning my face towards his. I pulled his hand away, daring to speak words I hadn't known were trying to escape.
"Sometimes I notice the way you look at me…and I think, 'what does he want?'. And I realize what you want is exactly what I want when I'm with John. I want more time. I want more of his wise anecdotes. Then I realize I'm selfish; in wanting him to stop his work and stop dividing his time. I want an opportunity to be there for him like he was for me. And I feel like dying when I think… 'There's no way that I can.' And for that, I don't deserve him." The words tumbled out unthinkingly, and I had begun tearing in the middle of my sentence. I didn't notice until Mark began to kiss the tear-stained areas of my face. I closed my eyes.
"You said you were indebted."
I nodded. Not having enough breath to speak.
"And you said you noticed the way I watch you?" He pressed his lips to my jawbone.
"Yes." It was an exhale; I almost could not find my voice.
"Then you must know that I love you."
I didn't…couldn't…wouldn't- process it immediately; the words went in one ear and out the other. So logically I answered. "Unmistakably."
"Then return the favor."
So, when he pulled away, I grabbed his collar and heaved him back towards me, roughly capturing his lips with my own. My body and rational-(because it's perfectly rational to ravage someone who confesses their love to you.)-acted, so that my heart wouldn't have to.
I did not have to hold him in place, he held me. At first, we had collided too fast for either one to have any reaction, the moment too concentrated. When I become conscious of it, I made my actions relaxed. And for the first time ever, I was moving with him, instead of just trying to keep up. The change was apparent and he challenged me, leaning backwards and letting me find his kiss again. When I did, I felt stronger in my pursuit that was brand new. I had conquered a milestone that I wasn't reaching for. And in this I was able to control my actions because I was leading. The feeling of domination was intense. I finally understood then why he liked having control.
"Stop." I disconnected us, standing up swiftly. My upper body heaving, my neck and cheeks reddened, and my lips tender. I rubbed my arms, chasing off the goose bumps.
He grinned, copying my standing up. "You were kissing me." He seemed awestruck.
I pushed my hair out of my face. "Thanks Capitan Obvious."
"Why do you do that?" He asked, exasperated.
"What?"
"That. Every time we get close, you snap back into this 'I hate you' mind-set, which I know is just a tactic you use to drive me away."
"I don't do that." I folded my arms, mumbling.
"Stop taking the easy way out."
"There is no easy way Mark! Please, enlighten me. Show me what you think the 'easy way' is, because other than taking your gun and putting it to my head, there isn't one."
"I know the easy way because I watch you performing it everyday. It's pretending you don't care, so it's easier to hide the fact that you do."
"I can't hide anything. Look at me Mark, I'm a wreck."
"Then let me be here for you."
"I've tried…but I'm torn, Mark. You know that better than anyone."
"I'll never get why you would fight honey with venom."
-
Mark's words still meandered restlessly through my head when I left him in the workroom and traveled down through the corridors to the room where John was resting.
"John." I whispered when I found him, sleeping serenely. I resolved to leave, to try again later. But as I turned to leave, I heard his voice call me back. I turned quickly, watching him sit up.
"No. Its fine, John, go back to sleep. I'll just come back."
"This is…obviously important. You've never come to speak with me here."
I nodded solemnly. "It's really important. It's… about Amanda."
John thought. "Go on."
"Well…" I felt childish. "Two nights ago, I got up in the night. I honestly don't know how or why I woke up so immediately, but when I did I used the restroom and then I heard Amanda going down to the exit from here."
John was silent.
"I-I can't explain it, I just…felt weird about the whole thing. It didn't seem normal to me. So then I followed her." My voice fell softer, as my story became graver.
"I was hiding in the back of the van. She drove to the game house, John. By herself, she assumed." I exhaled.
"I followed her into the bathroom …" I sniffed, raising my hand to my mouth to bite my nail. "She…John, she killed Adam."
-
"And then I broke down, and asked him to forgive me."
Mark looked puzzled. "For what? I can't see anything you've done wrong."
"For not telling him sooner. I should've told him immediately...God my throat is dry."
"Don't you feel better?" Mark handed me a water bottle.
"No. I hate myself." I took a sip. "You didn't see the look in his eyes."
"John will make a way to right it. He's got a plan for everything." Mark assured me. John sounded like God with those words. And even I knew he wasn't. I just couldn't see how Amanda could be absolved of this. But then again, it was all up to John.
Amanda never found out that I told John she had become a murderer. I suppose now, that it was better that way. It was because of my testimony, that she was given her final test. The one she would ultimately fail.
