I opened my eyes and swallowed. The roof was spinning as I blinked back tears from the pain—my skull felt like it was being ripped from the inside out, like an angry demon clawing its way into the world.
And then it all came rushing back to me … I was drinking. The accident … oh my gosh, I crashed the Buick! How could I be so stupid? Chris …
I glanced over at the passenger’s seat, but Chris was no longer in it. There was something else, a lumpy gray mannequin, a mannequin with no head … I recognized the shirt and pants, the jagged hole of space above his neck … Oh my god.
Gasping for air, I tried to move, my arms weren’t responding to my brain’s commands.
I can taste blood in my mouth. Chris’s blood.
I remember now: I bit him. But why the hell would I do that?
And then I remembered more: the fighting.
We were fighting about his cell phone. About that stupid girl who had been messaging him again … about the photo I’d found on his phone a couple weeks ago.
That photo will haunt me for the rest of my life … but not as much as this moment.
From the driver’s seat, I’d seen him smiling down at his phone. So many girls … so many indiscretions … and he didn’t even have the decency to hide it anymore.
For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the message he was reading.
“So, which is it this week, huh? Virgins or whores?”
Chris’s mouth gaped open, and then he did something I didn’t expect: he tossed his head back and laughed. “What the hell are you talking about now, Camilla? Please enlighten me, since you know so much about me these days.”
“The porn sites. The casual online hookups … I know. And I know you know that I know …
“One minute you’re clicking on cherry-popper videos, the next it’s the twenty-guy gang-bang bitch. So, I’m asking you right fucking now … which is it you prefer: virgins or whores? Cause we both know you don’t want me.”
Chris covered his face, rubbing his hands up and down. I couldn’t see or hear his laughter … but I felt it.
“Every guy looks at porn, Camilla. And you know that; we had this conversation when we first started dating. And I like women, okay? You knew this when we got married. That was your dumb idea, remember? Being faithful isn’t my thing, although I’ve been damned near close to that for you, so you should be happy …”
“Yeah, but when we first got together, you weren’t sneaking to the bathroom, looking at porn sites daily. You weren’t messaging girls on dating sites. It’s disturbing, really. But that’s only a small part of it.”
Chris uncovered his face, holding his hands out in a begging gesture. “Please explain it to me—a small part of what?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. Arguing with him is pointless. I’ve known that for a while now.
The lines in the road were growing blurry. The right tire of the Buick hit the road strips on the side. I waited for the growling of the strips to subside, before I answered: “It’s just my whole life, I’ve been trying to understand … try too hard, be too good … and people say, ‘You need to relax, be freer.’ But cut loose and suddenly, girls become whores and sluts. You freak out if I even look at another guy, but you’re free to do what you want … I can’t walk this tightrope anymore. The game is fucking rigged.” I said the words so quietly, Chris asked me to repeat myself.
“Look, I saw the picture on your phone. I know about the girl you’ve been seeing.”
“Don’t start this shit again, Camilla. You know what happened last time.” I remembered the sting of the blow, his hands tightening around my neck … the silent scream that would never come …
He was smiling back down at his phone, texting away.
Sharply, I jerked the wheel of the Buick to the left. Now that will get his attention.
“Hey! Don’t do that!” Chris shouted. His phone fell with a thump between the seats. I smiled as I watched him scramble, desperately trying to find where it had fallen.
I can remember a time when those hands were desperately searching for me … not someone else, not squeezing my neck … not hurting me, like this.
“Don’t do what?” I said, jerking the wheel to the right.
I pressed my foot down hard on the gas, picking up speed.
“You’re so fucking pathetic, Camilla. My mom was right about you.”
“Fuck you!” I shouted.
I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I’d had a couple drinks earlier, but my head was clear. Clear enough to know my marriage is over for good.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” I asked, staring blearily at the road in front of me. Tears were filling up; I widened my eyes, trying to stop them from spilling over. “I know you did. I saw the photo on your phone. I know you’ve been seeing her.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Milly. Seriously! But I’m glad you brought all this up.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I said, flatly, swerving from side to side.
“Because I’m not in love with you anymore.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Look, you need to slow down, okay? You’re scaring me right now. Have you been drinking?”
“How good of you to notice,” I said, chuckling.
Chris reached for the wheel, and like a wild animal, I jerked my head over and bit down—hard—on his arm.
“Ow! What the fuck? You bit me!”
“I was crazy for loving you. And even more crazy for putting up with your family …” I pressed down harder on the gas, my speed jumping up to 80 miles per hour.
The tears threatening to tumble loose came gushing out and I eased my foot off the gas.
It’s over between us. I’ve known it for a while, but now there is no longer any doubt.
I released my hands from the wheel. I want to float through life, just like Valerie Hutchens. See where this shitty road takes me.
“Camilla, look out!”
A truck merged into the left-hand lane. I don’t have enough space to brake!
The Buick skidded across the pavement.
***
I woke up to the sounds of metal and pavement, pain coursing through my head and back. I stared up at the roof. It was no longer made of metal, but slats of wood … I’m not in the Buick, am I?
I recognized the log walls of the cabin, and when I turned my head to the right, I had a sideways view of the kitchen. I was laying on the floor in Chris’s living room. Not my Chris, but the stalker Chris: Chris Jared. And he’d hit me over the head with something … No, wait, it wasn’t him. It was Valerie.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” I turned my head to the left and came face to face with a pair of untied Reeboks. My eyes followed the shoes up to the long, tan, slender legs that connected them to the girl. Valerie was sitting on the couch, smiling, one leg crossed over the other.
“Rise and shine,” she said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her face didn’t have any bruises on it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I croaked. My voice was throaty, not my own.
“Welcome to my YouTube channel. As my number-one fan, you are the guest star of episode one. Surprise!”
“Come again?” I tried to sit, but the room was spinning. Do I have a concussion?
“I knew you’d come. You took a little longer than I hoped, but still … you’re a true follower, Camilla.”
“Why did you hit me? I came to help …”
“Look, I’m sorry about that. I was worried you were going to stab Chris for real. That would have ruined everything. We have so much great footage, and I can’t wait to share our story.” She laughed so loud; it was almost like a shout. I winced, the grating sound of her voice like nails on a chalkboard now.
“Come on, Camilla, tell the truth. Did you really come all this way to help me? You barely know me, and my guess is that you don’t really like me anyway.”
“That’s not true … I did. I used to …” I tried to focus on her bright-blue eyes and shiny hair … seeing her in person felt surreal and all too real, at the same time. She didn’t look like she did in her pictures. She had aged dramatically; her face no longer that of a young, carefree girl. Now she was a determined woman, a woman with a dirty plan and an awful laugh. Valerie Hutchens, unfiltered.
“People don’t watch the news anymore, Camilla. And they don’t read books or newspapers either … no one cares about real information; they believe what they want to see. What they’re told to see. You saw a girl you admired, a girl who was in trouble … and based on that alone, you wanted to come to my rescue. It’s not enough to have followers anymore, you understand that, right? Sure, my followers like my photos and make their stupid comments … but would they really follow me, huh? Would they come to my rescue if I needed them?”
“So, Chris wasn’t really stalking you? But I saw him in the video … and in the photos … he was watching you through the window …”
“He was in the photos because I put him there. We’ve been traveling together for ages. And the stunt in the window was just a prank. I wanted to get a reaction out of you. Out of all of you. Congratulations; you definitely passed the test.”
“Test? What fucking test? Why would you pretend you had a stalker?” I asked, incredulously. I wasn’t mad exactly, just confused. Was Valerie this desperate for attention?
“I had a stalker once, but nobody believed me. Nobody cared enough to help me then.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, and my head hurts really freaking bad. I’m not thinking clearly. Do you have anything to drink?” I coughed and sat up, finally managing to prop myself up on my elbows.
“That guy finally moved on to someone else. But he’s always stuck with me … and so, I’m making a new channel about followers and what they’re willing to do to reach me—what can I make people believe, Camilla? I’m starting to think they’ll believe anything. After all, you believed that Chris killed my aunt.”
I groaned, pulling myself up all the way. I wrapped my hands around my knees, the lightheadedness subsiding slightly as I sucked in shallow, craggy breaths. “Then who did kill her? Was it you?”
“Nobody, silly. My aunt is alive and well in Oshkosh. She’s completely fine.”
“No, that’s not true …”
“Yes. You never saw it on the news, did you?”
I shook my head, trying to shake off the prickly stars sprouting from behind my eyelids. I felt like I might vomit.
“The manager at The Rest EZ told me she was murdered. The cops were there looking for you …”
“The manager at The Rest EZ, huh? Good ol’ Bruce. It’s amazing what people will do when they’re obsessed with you. I’ve been staying at that dump for free for years. He’s related to our old school pal, Luke. Do you remember him?”
She went on, giving me no chance to respond: “Whenever I pass through town, I stay there. I always hoped Aaron would worry about my safety there, that he might be the one looking for me … but, oh well. He’s not a true follower, not worthy of my time. Bruce played into my plan, perfectly. I told him what to say, and he did it. Pretty simple, actually.” Valerie shrugged, looking all too pleased with herself.
“Your aunt is worried about you … people are looking for you …”
Valerie was staring at her nail beds. She bit off a hangnail and spit it on the floor beside me.
“My aunt knows I’m fine. I called her. And no one is looking for me … Bruce lied about my aunt, the cops. He’s a loyal friend. But a true follower? The verdict’s still out on that one.”
“Are you telling me that all of this was a lie? For what, Valerie? Why the fuck would you do this? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you at all. You’re just a nobody to me. But that didn’t stop you from stalking my page, liking all my posts, following me across the country … pretty much harassing me! This is going to make such a good first episode. I’m thinking about doing a scavenger hunt each month … kind of like Where’s Waldo? only it’ll be Where’s Valerie? And I’m going to challenge people on what they think happened versus reality … I enjoyed watching you sulking in your motel room. And the bloody shirt … that was fucking classic! You were so freaked out by that.”
“What do you mean?” I stared at her in wide-eyed horror.
“There were cameras on you in the motel the whole time. And I had others, too, capturing you around town. You’ve been so worried about me, Camilla … it’s really sweet, actually. But you need to curb that drinking problem …”
“Jesus,” I muttered, bile rising in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down, shaking my head from side to side in disgust. Who is this psycho bitch? Not the girl I thought I was following, that’s for sure … I underestimated Valerie Hutchens.
“And we caught your grand finale, too—swinging that knife around at Chris. It’s going to get so many views, just you wait and see. You threatening to kill Chris, a man you didn’t even know, all to protect me. I’m going to tell my viewers the whole story. This will be good for both of us, Camilla. You’ll be famous! It’ll definitely go viral, no doubt.”
I couldn’t see any cameras in the dark, but somehow, I could feel them there.
“Okay, your stupid prank goes viral … then what?”
“People love hearing shit like this about social media stars. They’ll be putty in my hands after I pull this off.”
“Star? I’d hardly call you a star because of your followers. Girls like you are a dime-a-dozen, Valerie.” I couldn’t help it; I laughed, and then I started choking. My head felt like it was on fire.
“Oh, just wait and see. Once I have my YouTube presence going, I’ll be able to get the book deal I’ve always wanted … I’m writing about a girl who will do anything to achieve fame. Sounds familiar, right? All of this is such good research for the book … and I’ll totally have my followers in place before it’s released. Trust me, everyone will want to read this shit when it’s done.”
“So, what now?” I said, exasperated. “Are you going to kill me on camera or something? Is that the final scene in this twisted shit show of yours?”
Valerie laughed, deep and raucous. “Of course not. I’m not crazy, Camilla. This is it for now … unless you’re up for a post-interview tonight?”
“I think I’ll pass,” I said, managing to pull myself up to my feet.
On the floor beside the sofa, I could see a wooden baseball bat. That must be what she hit me with. Crazy bitch.
“I’m just glad no one was hurt. You impressed me, Camilla. You exceeded all my expectations. I was surprised you followed through, especially after all you’ve been through … the drinking and the accident. Hell, maybe this whole thing will help you repair your reputation!”
“Whatever you say, Valerie.” All the times I’d dreamed of impressing Valerie … this wasn’t how I expected to do it.
Valerie threw her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. She smelled like sulfur and rot.
She whispered into my hair, still gripping me: “I’ll have Chris walk you back to your truck. Oh, and if you try to sue me … it won’t matter. I’m going to make so much money off this channel that it will be worth it in the end. And I don’t think you want the cops finding out that you were about to attempt murder, do you? After all, from what I’ve heard, you’re already in deep shit back home. Unlike you, I follow the news—the real news—so I know what’s actually going on.”
I pulled away from her, disgusted.
I gave her one last, longing look, then I followed Chris-the-non-stalker outside.
***
“Your head okay? Good enough to drive?” Chris-the-faker asked me. His entire voice was different now, softer.
“My knife. Did you take it?”
He nodded. “Well, we kind of had to. You were about to stab me,” he said, nervously.
“When is she going to post about this on YouTube, or has she already?”
“Nah, we have to put it all together. It’ll take days to edit. I really hope you’ll subscribe. She’s using the same name as her Instagram account: The World Is Mine. Hey, thanks for being such a good sport. But maybe, in the future, you shouldn’t follow strangers … okay?”
Once again, I nodded. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t choke out any more words.
I hobbled down the dirt path I’d followed earlier, feeling more defeated that I ever had.
I’d been so determined to eliminate Chris Jared and save Valerie … now look at me.
The truck bloomed ahead like a beacon of hope. Thankful to be back, I let Chris wrench open the driver’s door for me. Gently, I climbed inside. The keys were still hanging in the ignition.
“Sorry again about your head,” Chris said. He turned around and started walking back to the cabin.
I turned the truck on, but I didn’t take it out of park. Instead, I reached over and opened the glove box.
My fingers felt around in the dark, until I met the cool metal barrel of the gun. I should have brought this with me the first time.
I stepped back out of the truck and slammed the driver’s door shut.
“Chris.”
He was halfway up the path now, hands in his pockets, whistling as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
When he heard me say his name, he turned around, squinting wearily in the gleaming white headlights of the truck.
I raised the gun and fired one shot.