A Message From My Future Self

4: 4

Over the next few days, I played it crazier.

I sat up in the middle of the night and talked to the empty air. At dinner I pushed grains of rice up my nose.

Every time, Samuel soothed me gently, then turned away and let the disgust show.

Tomorrow was the day they planned to ship me abroad.

While they were out, I cleared away every trace that belonged to me.

Passport, ID, bank cards—all mailed to a private box overseas.

That afternoon, Samuel came home early to get some papers from the study.

I stumbled in after him, holding a cup of red ink.

"Sam, look, blood…"

My hand jerked, and the whole cup splashed across the original contract.

"Brenda Henson!"

His face went livid, veins bulging at his temple.

He whipped his hand up, like he wanted to slap me dead on the spot.

I tilted my head and grinned at him, blank and dazed.

His hand froze in the air, and in the end he clenched his teeth and pulled it back.

"It's fine. Bren didn't mean it, did you?"

He forced a stiff smile and wiped at the contract with a tissue.

Watching him want to kill me and still have to fake devotion, I felt nothing but satisfaction.

That evening, Serena came home.

I made a point of acting wired, clutching her hand and refusing to let go.

"Rena, let's cook together, okay? I want to eat something you made."

She paused, then managed to squeeze out a smile.

"Sure. Rena will keep you company."

When she turned to grab the seasoning, I tilted the blade and cut open my left palm.

Blood welled up at once.

I grabbed at her skirt in terror.

"Blood! So much blood!"

The blood smeared onto her couture skirt.

"What are you doing!"

Serena shrieked and shoved me away.

Samuel came rushing into the kitchen at the sound.

He saw the blood on Serena's skirt, his eyes went hard, and he shoved me down hard.

"Have you gone crazy enough yet!"

"Rena's been helping you this whole time, and you hurt her?"

I hit the tile, and pain tore through my belly.

Warm blood ran down my thigh.

I clutched my stomach, my face drained white.

But Samuel didn't look at me.

He took a wet wipe and dabbed tenderly at Serena's skirt.

"Are you hurt?"

Serena shook her head, her eyes red.

That one shove broke the last of what I still clung to.

I dragged myself up, one hand pressed to my belly, and edged into the master bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Outside, Samuel lost all patience and kicked the door hard.

"You unreasonable lunatic!"

Then, in the next breath, he was comforting Serena.

"Forget it. Let her calm down on her own."

"Let's go spend the weekend at the riverfront place. We'll take her tomorrow."

The footsteps faded, and the front door locked.

Once I was sure they were gone, I dragged the suitcase out from under the bed.

I moved the body to the middle of the living room and changed her into the nightgown I wore most often.

Then I scattered the shreds of the fake marriage certificate around the body.

Last, I left a note on the coffee table.

You two are filthy enough to make me sick.

Let you go, and let myself go.

I twisted open the gas valve and poured strong liquor across the carpet.

The match dropped, and the flames swallowed the carpet fast.

In the riverfront penthouse.

Samuel had just pinned Serena to the sofa when a violent jolt slammed through his chest.

His breath caught, and the image flashed through his mind—the blood beneath me, that glaring red, when he shoved me down.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

Serena pressed close.

"Something's wrong…"

Samuel pushed her off, grabbed the car keys, and bolted out the door.

"Something's wrong with Bren!"

He tore back to the estate the whole way, and kicked in the sagging security door.

In the rolling black smoke, he froze where he stood.