Page 66 of Whispers of the Lake

Alex blinked. “She wanted that! She told us that was what she wanted! Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t believe this shit is happening again!”

“And then you killed her, right? You took all her things and you’ve hidden her body.” I applied a little pressure to the trigger. “Where the hell is she, Alex?”

“You’re so wrong about all of this. So fucking wrong,” he grumbled, then he lunged forward and tried to grab my gun.

So, I pulled the trigger.

Eve Castillo journal entry

My therapist explained why I might be allowing the people who’ve wronged me back into my life so easily. I was groomed to be this way. When Pa abused us, he would also reward us the next day.

Whenever he was too harsh on a Saturday, that Sunday he’d be in a much better mood. Smiling. Laughing. Hugging us. Kissing our foreheads. He’d bring home treats—cookies, ice cream, donuts, Popsicles. When he brought them, he’d tell us that he was thinking about us and he loved us so much he wanted to bring us something special. Then two or three days later, he’d be at it again.

Shouting.

Hitting.

Punishing.

It was an ongoing cycle. It’s probably bad to admit this, but I was ready for the punishments to happen just so he could love us again the next day. For a while, I assumed he felt guilty for hurting us. I’m not quite sure that was ever the case though.

He would do different things, like take us to amusement parks. Drive us to the mountains for hikes. Take us to the mall and let us shop for whatever we wanted. He’d also take us to the movies and buy us popcorn, slushies, and all the candy we wanted.

It’s like he wanted us to think he wasn’t that bad of a person. He wanted us to think he was a good man with flaws. Someone we should understand and accept because he was human, and humans made mistakes.

But good people don’t accidentally break your arm.

Or accidentally hit you in the face.

Or force you to take freezing-cold showers because you spent too much time taking a warm one the night before.

Good people don’t mock you when you start your period. They don’t look at you and say, “Look at that. You’re a woman now,” just to follow it up with, “Shut the hell up, little girl. You don’t know shit,” the next hour.

Goodness was never within him. I realize now the rewards were just another form of control. My therapist thinks I accepted Lincoln again because he rewarded me with the funnel cakes and kettle corn. He treated me to a nice night out after hurting me badly. He wasn’t doing it for my sake, but for his. He needed that cycle to continue, just to prove to himself that he could be a good person.

It’s a shame I’ve been subconsciously accustomed to it. Now the same is happening with Victor. And I have to admit, out of all the men I’ve encountered in my life, Victor’s anger scares me the most.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Alex cried as he buckled, then he fell completely to the ground. I’d shot him in the thigh. It wasn’t my intention to kill him. Just hurt him. As he hollered in pain and called me all sorts of derogatory names, I ran around him. He swatted at me, trying to catch me by the ankle but missing.

I could see flashing red and blue lights behind me as I ran to the other side of the lake. That had to be James. I refused to stop, not until I made it to a place with service. Or another phone with service. I checked mine as I made it out of the woods but had no bars.

“Come on,” I wheezed, throwing my arm in the air. I twisted around, dying for just a bar. Just one. I tried calling Kennedy just to see if the call would go through. It failed automatically.

“Damn it.”

I spotted Eddie’s house a short distance away. A swirl of hope washed through me. I ran up the short hill, thighs burning, lungs on fire. Through the wide-open windows, I could see his entire living room. A fire was going, the TV on, deep corduroy sofas. A woman was in the kitchen cutting an apple on a cutting board. She was tall, slim, with shoulder-length sandy-blond curls that reminded me a lot of Emily’s. Her skin was several shades lighter than Emily’s beige.

Then I saw Eddie appear in the hallway and walk around the corner wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He plucked an apple slice from the cutting board but not before kissing the woman’s cheek. The woman grinned.

I knocked on the window and they jumped. “Sorry!” I yelled as the woman pressed a hand against her chest. “I’m so sorry! It’s me, Rose!”

Eddie glanced at the woman before hurrying to the patio doors. “Rose? What in the world? What’s going on?” He slid the door open and looked me over.

The front of my sweats had a hole on the knee now, along with a dirt stain. I was filthy from the fall, but I was safe. Safe for now.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, eyes widening again.

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