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Look at her,I think, my eyes fixed on Mercy’s face.She’s perfect in every single way. It’s not fair. That’s why I have to do this.

A lightning bolt of pain echoes through me, something uncomfortable and unwelcome. Guilt, perhaps, or a shred of decency, trying to claw its way out of the cesspool that lives where my heart used to be.

I mute this footage too, and I clip it, just like last time.

My fingers are shaking as I save it, and then I bring up both videos at the same time, and splice them together.

It’s a short clip, maybe 30 seconds long, but it’s enough.

It’s enough to prove my point.

When it’s done, I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling.

I try to think of that day 15 years ago, and the pain I felt.

I try to think of the blood and I the way that I screamed—or would have, had he not shoved something in my mouth to muffle the sound. I think of the look in her eyes and the way she turned away from me. I think of her refusing to look at me, refusing to tell the truth when I told them what had happened to me. Then later, I remember the way she refused to speak to me, and when I asked why, she said that I was… unclean.

Dirty.

A broken thing.

I try to bring up the pain and the anger, but all I feel is a hollow throb from somewhere deep down, and it hurts.

“Damn it,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

She deserves this,I tell myself.After everything she did to me, she deserves this.

I reach into the desk drawer, my fingers brushing against cold metal until they close around the USB drive. I pull it out and it feels heavier than it should as I plug it into the computer.

Just a few more clicks and it’s done.

The screen prompts me to save the file, the cursor blinking expectantly. I hesitate for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This is it—the point of no return. Once I save this footage, it becomes real, tangible evidence.

It becomes everything I worked for.

It becomes her downfall.

But I don’t have to do this.

I could let her go.

I could shove her away, but I won’t.

I can’t, because I’m selfish and I want her.

I want her to be mine.

I type in the file name, shaking the guilt away.

Mercy_Killian_Edit_Final. EXE

The progress bar appears, the green line inching forward, a visual countdown to my inevitable betrayal. I watch, holding my breath, as it reaches the end.

**File Saved Successfully**

My gaze shifts to the bottom of the screen where a row of dated folders stares back at me.

I need to be reminded.