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William was there now in his soft suits with his soft face, his hands reached out in supplication, but staying a good distance away from me.

So he too could play his part.

Without pissing my fucking psychotic husband off.

I was supposed to be a good girl.

I was supposed to be gentle, mild, and forgiving.

But I grabbed the baton from his belt, and Sheriff McGinty made not one move to stop me. Then I smashed the car’s windows, a satisfying feral blast of tiny shards.

All the noise I had made had attracted attention, and I saw heads popping out all down Main Street. The coffee shop, bakery, the diner, the library, mechanics, even the model train shop.

All of it part of my idyllic, charming small town.

All of it fake.

Even Mr. and Mrs. Potter, now looking at me with wary attention.

Nothing was real.

The next thing I took the baton to was that white picket fence around City Hall, absolutely hacked it to smithereens.

The townspeople all made soothing noises or looked nervously at each other, all the people I thought were my friends.

They weren’t at all.

They must be nothing more than paid actors.

“Be careful, be careful!” they chimed in unison.

“Please,” William said, and his blue eyes were wide, his breath coming with little panicky gasps. “We didn’t make those cuts. You’ve got totellhim we took the best care of you. Tell him we tried to stop you.”

“Rough me up!” I demanded. “I’m violent. Maybe I’m a dangerous murderer, you know!”

“No, no,” he gasped, stumbling back so hard he fell down.

Then he crawled over and gripped my legs.

“Please, remember us to him! Didn’t you have three wonderful years here?”

I shook him off.

His weakness repulsed me.

There was a slick sheen of sweat on my chest and I was panting.

I had just brought that baton down on the fake Sheriff’s headlights when I heard a rumble of gravel in the distance and turned to see Saul’s Jeep.

Shit

Gripping the baton tightly in my fist, I turned and ran.

I ran blindly, madly, not trying to keep to the path. Not watching where I was going. Not being cautious.

Because I knew I didn’t matter.

I knew my big, angry husband would come find me no matter where I went.