Not here, not this
Not this one precious thing
“Myhusbanddid this, didn’t he?” I shrieked hysterically.
I clutched my belly, the confirmed truth of his wicked obsession residing deep inside. No one could see the evidence, but I knew it was there. His wicked, lustful obsession.
They all said nothing.
“I’m going to slap you,” I said, turning to the Sheriff.
I raised my hand to him, making sure he could see the approach, my arm stretched back.
And he stood there and let my hand land on his face with a hard, sharp slap. Did nothing to stop me.
Holy hell
Holy hellfire and damnation
How blind had I been? Had I even wanted to see?
Had I just thought this beautiful, perfect small town was a stroke of luck, a coincidence?
Hadanythingin my life been a coincidence?
Or had it all been managed and controlled by my jealous, possessive stepbrother?
“What’s your real name?” I snarled, turning on the kindly, twinkly-eyed sheriff I knew now must be a fucking fraud.
“It’s Sheriff McGinty, of course.”
“No, I mean yourrealname.”
I picked up a big, jagged chunk of glass and spun it contemplatively in my hands.
“Answer me or I’ll cut myself.”
Ifeltthe collective intake of the town, a giant, communal gasp.
And with a sickening twist in my gut, Iknew.
Knew it deep in my bones.
He began to bluff, but I put the tip right at my wrist.
“Your real name.”
“A-Aidan O’Malley.”
“And what is your occupation?”
“Sheriff.”
“What is your occupation?” I snapped, drawing the sharp tip of the shard shallowly down my arm, splitting open my arm with a cut to the wrist.
"A-actor.”
There it was.