Page 44 of One Last Step

“Then I suppose there’s no need to report you.You’re not committing any crimes.But my God, Elena, youmustget rid of these.Whatever else is here, it must be gone.And I mean gone.Burnt.There can be no record here of your past, or you will see your worst fears come to light.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time.When she does reply, she keeps her eyes averted, and I can’t be sure she’s telling the truth.“All right.I will.I’ll burn it all.”

I’ve done what I can.All I can do now is say, “I hope you will.”

I leave the room and head to the living room for some more tea.It’s dark outside, and more tea is probably not a wise idea this late, but I am once more unsettled.Assuming Elena’s telling the truth—and I think she is, mostly—then she’s not a criminal.She’s only making a very foolish mistake.

But what a costly mistake that could be.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

“You’ve always been such a disappointment.”

I resist the urge to laugh.My mother’s viciousness used to bother me, but now it only seems pathetic.I kneel on the bed and offer her the medication.As always, she swipes at it, trying to knock it from my hand.“I don’t want it!”she snarls.

“I know, but you have to take it,” I explain gently.“It’ll make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better.Unless you want to throw yourself headfirst out of that window.”

“Lovely, Mother,” I say drily.“Take your medicine.”

“I don’t want it!”

“I don’t give a fuck!”

We both recoil at that.I am not a vulgar person and can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve used that word in anger.

And it seems my mother’s viciousness can still hurt me.That’s not an encouraging realization.

I take a deep breath and look sternly at her to hide my discomfiture.“Mother, take your medicine willingly, or I’ll grind it into powder and mix it with your painkillers.”

“You can’t do that,” she says in a thready voice.“You don’t know how the drugs will interact.And dosages are different for pills than IV.”

“Then take them.I’m not joking.”

She turns almost red-faced with hate.But her rage is impotent.She is an elderly invalid trapped in bed, doomed to slowly decline for the rest of her life.I am not young anymore, but I’m not yet old, and if need be, I can and will carry out my threat.She can do nothing to stop me.I am completely in control.

And God help me, but it feels so good.

She takes the pills and swallows them.She refuses to look at me, instead staring stoically ahead at the mirror.Her face reddens further when she sees her wasted form, and I feel another thrill.A tinge of guilt colors that thrill, but it’s easy to brush away considering what she did to me and Annie when we were children.

I get to my feet, but before I can walk away, she says, “I hate you.Both of you.”

I actually do laugh at that.“What an unkind thing to say, Mother,” I reply drily.“Especially since Annie is dead.”

“You don’t know that she’s dead.Knowing her, she probably just ran off somewhere so she could whore around and party and act like a child without you trying to talk sense into her or me to remind her that she’s not nearly so precious as she thinks she is.”

“Maybe so.Anyway, thank you for the sentiment.I’ll leave you alone now.”

“It’s true, though,” she says.“I hate you both.And I’m not sorry.”

I’m not sure what possesses me to listen to this, but I turn around and sit on the edge of the bed.I smile tenderly down at her and say, “All right, Mother.Tell me.Tell me all about it.Your muscle relaxants and sleep aids won’t kick in for another half hour or so.That should be long enough.Tell me how much you hate me and my dead or possibly missing sister.”

She shakes her head.Her expression grows wistful, and oddly, I can almost see her as she was when she was younger.When she speaks again, the viciousness is gone.In its place is melancholy.

“It wasn’t just you.Your father too.I couldn’t handle being… trapped.”

“You could have left at any time,” I tell her.“You could have abandoned us and gone anywhere you wanted.”

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