"Absolutely. All you have to do is ask. I love you, Kelsey. I’ll give you anything you want." He leaves me for a moment, retrieving a bottle of water from a small fridge in the corner.
Okay, how about we start with unchaining me and letting me go? Somehow I doubt that would be a popular request.
Heh, I sound like Harper. Such a smart ass, that one.
God, I must be cracking up. I should be terrified. I should be screaming at the top of my lungs. I should be doing something to try and get away. What in the hell is wrong with me?
Suddenly, I can see Harper in the corner, arms crossed against her chest, looking down at me. She smiles at me and winks. "It’s called a strong survival instinct, Little Roo. You’ve reported on this kind of madness so you know better. You’ll only piss him off if you get hysterical. So stay calm. The good guys are coming."
Oh yeah, I’m cracking up.
He returns to the cot, lifting my head, offering me some water. I take a few sips before he pulls the bottle away. "Better?"
I nod. I don’t want to say more to him than I have to.
"Good." He sighs, retaking his seat, brushing his fingers through my hair. "I know, eventually, you’re going to try to get away, or start screaming for help, or something. You’re in shock right now. Once it passes, you will have a bad reaction and do what comes naturally. But you can’t get out of this room. And it is soundproof. We’re in an old recording studio. So you can scream as loud as you want, but no one will hear you."
With these words, I finally let my eyes wander around the room. The walls are indeed soundproofed, and I now have a good estimate for the size of the room. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my claustrophobia will kill me first.
As I really begin to focus, I realize one wall is covered with photos of various people and me.
I zero in on one in particular. Harper. I remember that day. That picture was taken when we were leaving the station after I accused her of sending me the first batch of roses. Oh, how I wish she had sent them.
He looks back and forth between the pictures and me. Once he figures out the one I am staring at, he rises quickly and pulls the picture of Harper down. "This bitch," he hisses, "is responsible for keeping us apart!"
"No," I whisper. God, please don’t let him go after her. Keep her safe. I don’t care what he does to me, but don’t let him hurt her. "No, she wasn’t," I counter quietly.
He storms across the room, shoving the photo in my face before giving me a good hard slap. "Don’t lie to me, Kelsey! I know she was! I know she did everything she could to keep us apart."
"She was only being a friend."
He drops to his knees and forces me to look at him. "Well, it doesn’t matter now. You know why?"
"Why?" I hear myself ask.
"She’s dead. I cut her fucking throat."
Oh, God, please no!
"No."
"Yeah, I watched her bleed out all over her apartment when she slipped away from you today." He sneers at me. His face twitches as he crumples the picture. "See, I know all about that, too. I know she seduced you, deceived you, corrupted you. But, I don’t blame you, Kelsey. But she defiled you, and because of that, she had to die."
"She didn’t defile me! She loved me!"
"Shut up!"
He delivers another blow that rattles my senses. I can taste the blood in my mouth. As the pain and the anger overtake me, I let the tears fall. God, I hate that I cry when I’m angry.
She can’t be dead. I don’t believe him.
If she isn’t, why did I see her ghost a moment ago? Jesus. She is dead.
"Then kill me, too, because I’ll never belong to you." I tug on the chains trying to sit upright. I’m going to die on my own terms and not flat on my back. "Go on, kill me!"
He pulls his gun from his shoulder holster, placing it squarely between my eyes. "I can do that."
I close my eyes, hearing the hammer being pulled back. I wait for the shot as visions of Harper fill my mind.
Love you, Tabloid. We’ll be together soon. I promise.
<fade out>
Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:
<fade in>
We all climb into the limousine and settle in our seats. The ride is essentially silent. I watch as the barren landscape of Los Angeles passes by our windows.
Clark whimpers against my chest and tries to burrow into my jacket. I know exactly how he feels.
"When this is all over, we want you to come spend some time at home."
I nod. "I’d like that, Papa."
Finally, we pass through the wrought iron gates of Fairlawn Cemetery. My heart drops.
<fade out>
Episode Twenty-Four: All Good Things Come To An End
I am numb.
I haven’t felt anything for days. And I don’t know if I will ever again.
I’m dressed in a black suit, matching my mood, and appropriate for the occasion. I’m wearing my hair down. She said she liked it best that way. It makes me look wild, free.
I’m neither anymore.
There is a knock on the bathroom door. "Harper, are you ready?" Papa asks gently.
"Yeah, one second." I straighten up and look at my reflection one more time. I have to pull it together. Kelsey would want it that way.
I wander out to the living room and find the rest of my family. Robie and Rene flew in as soon as they heard about the murder. They left Christian with Gerrard and Katherine, but brought along Clark. Rene said it was because Clark is still breast-feeding. I know it’s because they knew I’d need him.
Robie hands me my nephew and I hold him close. This little human has been my lifeline. I’ll have to thank him when he’s older and spoil him rotten until then.
"The limousine is waiting," Mama informs us, opening the door to my apartment. She is dressed in a black dress and hat. I absently note that she looks great in a hat. I can’t wear them, they make my head look too large.
We all file out of my apartment, Rene slipping her arm around my waist and walking beside me to the elevator. Truth is, I’ve always been a little bit in love with my sister-in-law. I'm so glad she and Robie are here. I’d never get through this without them. Robie has been my best friend for as long as I’ve been alive.
We all climb into the limousine and settle in our seats. The ride is essentially silent. I watch as the barren landscape of Los Angeles passes by our windows.
Clark whimpers against my chest and tries to burrow into my jacket. I know exactly how he feels.
"When this is all over, we want you to come spend some time at home."
I nod. "I’d like that, Papa."
Finally, we pass through the wrought iron gates of Fairlawn Cemetery. My heart drops.
Rene reaches over and holds my hand.
We pull to a stop alongside a number of other limousines and the driver opens the door for us. When we exit, I keep hold of Clark. If I let go of him, I don’t know what I might do. But, as long as this little life is in my hands, I won’t do anything stupid.
The paparazzi rush toward us. Several of the funeral director’s men intercept them, blocking their view of us.
A sophisticated looking gentleman approaches us, looking appropriately contrite. "Ms. Kingsley?" he asks, as he takes my hand.
I shift Clark in my arms, but still won’t give him up. "Yes. Are you Winston?"
"I am. Would you please come this way? We have all the speakers seated over here."
I follow him, my family trailing behind me. Winston goes over the order of events for the graveside service. The will had been very clear – no church service, no floral sprays, no somber music. The event was to be simple, the music classical, and the speakers few.