MARK FORRESTER WAS A GOOD GUY. I have no idea how I got drawn into this. I saw some stuff online—my roommate reads all the celebrity gossip—she showed me some post about “the other woman” in the Blue-Eyed Boyfriend Killer case. She said, “Maddie, isn’t that the back of your head?”
It’s a picture of me and Mark at a party. I think the party was last November. That’s when Jason and I were fighting a lot. I met Mark in my Stats class freshman year, and we stayed friends. Sometimes we’d grab a drink on a random weeknight and catch up. Jason went to Brown and things were hard, but I never considered cheating on him with Mark. It wasn’t like that with us. But I did talk to Mark about Jason. I asked his opinion. For Mark, it always came down to being honest, even though it’s damn hard to do.
I do remember that party now, because it’s the night Tabby showed up. Mark never mentioned a girlfriend to me—probably because it was always me talking about my drama, and that’s really embarrassing to admit. I didn’t go to Princeton to become a girl who cries over boys. I came here because I’m smart. But Jason made me doubt myself. Right before that party, he told me he wanted to take a break.
“What do you mean?” I’d asked.
“Exactly what you think,” he said. “This isn’t working for me.” Then I heard someone laugh in the background, and realized he wasn’t alone, that he was dumping me over the phone in front of people. It’s still the most humiliating moment of my life.
Of course, I didn’t want to go to the party after that. I wanted to stay in my room and put my pajamas on and cry over sappy movies. But my roommate dragged me out. “It’ll be fun,” she said. “Don’t let that asshole ruin one night, let alone your year.”
So I went. It was at a guy named Igor’s apartment. My roommate had been flirting with him for weeks. She liked that he lived off-campus, even though the apartment itself wasn’t anything special. I was feeling okay when we got there. I was doing fine, thinking I could rock the single life without Jason’s deadweight. Then that fucking song came on. The one Jason and I danced to at our senior prom. “This is our song,” he had whispered in my ear, his hand low on my back. “I’ll love you forever.”
I had believed it.
I knew I was going to cry, so I tried to get into the bathroom and do it in private, but the door was locked. Mark saw me standing there, rubbing my eyes, and it was like I couldn’t hold the tears in anymore. He just folded me into a big hug and asked if I wanted to go somewhere quiet to talk. We ended up in what must have been Igor’s bedroom. I poured it all out to him. The breakup over the phone. The song. I’m sure he thought I was a mess, but he just listened. He told me some things I needed to hear, things that I knew were true but somehow meant more coming from another guy. That I was a catch. That I had a lot going for me. That I didn’t need to waste my time with somebody who wasn’t totally sure about me.
“He’s going to regret this,” Mark said. “But you never will.”
Those words stuck. As embarrassed as I was that I had cried in front of him, I let his advice buoy me up, inflate my ego. I let myself believe him.
I was about to hug him when the door burst open. It was a girl in a super-short skirt. I had never seen her before in my life.
“What the fuck?” she said.
“Tabby—” Mark said.
“Just what I fucking expected,” she said, storming off. Mark got up, scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“She’s—it’s complicated.”
Like I said already, I didn’t know Mark had a girlfriend. I thought his life was swimming and school, but of course he had the same needs as the rest of us. I figured maybe he was supposed to have a date with this girl and lost track of time consoling me. I had no idea she had come all the way from Colorado to surprise her boyfriend.
She didn’t look like Mark’s type. I guess that sounds ridiculous, because how did I know Mark had a type? I guess if somebody asked, I would have pictured him with a more natural-looking girl. Someone who wore jeans with chunky knits, hair in a messy bun, Chapstick instead of the red slash over that girl’s mouth. I was even more surprised when I found out she was in high school.
Maybe I didn’t know Mark quite as well as I thought. But I do know that girl—Tabby—looked wild when she opened the bedroom door. She didn’t even look surprised, really. It’s like she knew she would find Mark with someone. Maybe even with me.
I can’t lie. There were a couple times I thought about me and Mark, how we would be together, after Jason. I never did go back to Jason. Every time I got one of his drunk text messages, trying to apologize, I remembered Mark’s words. He’s going to regret this. But you never will.
Mark and I never hooked up, though. That’s the truth. That’s the story I’m most definitely not selling to some trashy online tabloid. The whole country is obsessed with this story. All I want is to know what happened to Mark, the nicest guy, who didn’t deserve any of this.
You can believe me or not, but I’m the girl in those photos. I’m “the other woman.” And I don’t think it was an accident, what happened to Mark in the woods. I think revenge is a long game, and Tabby started planning hers the moment she found me and Mark in that bedroom.
THE GOSSIP ARMORY
October 19, 2019
Tabby & Beck: The New Bonnie & Clyde?
By Brad Hargrove
At this point, it seems inevitable that Tabby Cousins didn’t act alone, but police remain tight-lipped on how exactly they know that. A couple weeks ago, they questioned one of Tabby’s ex-boyfriends, Thomas Becker Rutherford III, known to friends as “Beck.” Don’t be fooled by the roman numerals after his name. This guy is basically a career criminal in the making. He and Tabby had a passionate relationship in their sophomore year of high school, with many of my sources even saying she lost her virginity to him.
This leaves us all with so many questions. If Tabby and Beck loved each other, why couldn’t they just be together without killing Mark?
I think you guys know where I stand. I don’t think she killed him. I’m not sure Beck Rutherford did either, but after being in this job as long as I have, I can tell you the media portrays boys in two ways. Golden boy or bad boy. Guess who’s who in this case. Princeton student/star swimmer versus the guy who brawls at parties when he has too much to drink? Mark’s gone and can do no wrong.
Somehow People got a photo of Tabby and Beck earlier this week, supposedly from when they were a couple. (You can see it here if you haven’t already, although I hate to give that site more traffic.) See where her hands are on him? One on his face and the other on his back, and he has a cigarette dangling from his fingers, and the other hand is on her ass. They’re basically eating each other’s faces. What struck me about the photo, besides two people who were obviously very into each other, was that hand placement. She calls the shots. This girl was in control. Now, if you look at photos of her and Mark (here and here in my previous posts), see his hand covering hers as they walk, or how far apart their bodies were, even when his arm was around her shoulders? It’s not like I’m a body-language expert, but I can’t help but wonder if this guy got controlling when he didn’t get what he wanted.
More information is coming soon—thank you, my readers, for being willing to talk to me. Now, let’s solve this thing before the cops do, and get famous. (Kidding.)
COMMENTS
SkullGirl: Another trash article from a trash site, don’t call this a job, ur a hack in ur parents basement
Marley: It’s always the angry ex-boyfriend! What a shame, he’s super hot. I’ll be his prison wife when he goes away for life for this.
LittleWreck: What do you want to bet he gets life and she walks?
DogLover101: Is it wrong that I find that kind of romantic? My bf can’t even kiss me in public …
WhenDovesCry: There is so much wrong here. Everyone has it all wrong.