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Pop stares me down. “Max wanted you.”
“I don’t know what I can do, Pop. Follow her around for the rest of my life? Ash Black is in prison for murder, solicitation, kidnapping, sexual assault, and God knows what else. She’s free.”
“Your brother didn’t think so.”
Pop’s voice is mild. Maybe holding a little rebuke in response to my obstinance.
Hell. I don’t know why I’m being so bullheaded. It’s not like keeping an eye on her would be a big deal. A little boring because she does the same shit every day with the same people. I’d have to invest in audiobook stock. Driving from the city to their country house is a two-hour round trip. I could easily be on the road four hours a day. Nothing out that way, either, except farmland. I wonder if that’s why Zane bought the place. To keep his girls out of the city.
His girls.
Lucky bastard.
I sigh.
Baby whines. She hates it when I’m out of sorts. She’s worse than a woman.
Pop slides me a look. “Maybe that’s not what Max meant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Following her around. Maybe that’s not what he meant. You and he had the same job. You dig up dirt.”
I cock my head, considering. Maybe I was taking Max’s words too literally. When he said to protect her, I thought he meant physically from harm, but maybe that’s not what he meant at all. I finger the lockbox key in my pocket. Maybe protecting her means making sure everything is over and done.
“Seems easy enough,” I say, turning in my seat. “You in?”
Pop grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Zarah
Standing in the bathroom, my side of the vanity covered in cosmetics, I do my hair and makeup. I have to look perfect. Someone at Quiet Meadows cut my hair off and now it’s styled into a sleek bob that I didn’t grow out. I’m not sure if I can ever wear my hair long again. I like the bob, more of a lob, longer, but the ends tuck in and graze my collarbones. My glittery eyeliner is straight and my brown eyes are more pronounced. My berry lipstick is precise.
My clothes are wrinkle-free and meticulous. High-heeled boots, dress slacks, matching blouse.
It’s like, if I’m beautiful on the outside, no one will be able to see the dirt on the inside.
Ingrid shuffles into the bathroom we share through her bedroom’s connecting doorway. She’s still dressed in her pajamas. I like her and don’t mind she’s always around, but whenever I allow myself to think about it, I get embarrassed she knows so much about me. She passes me the medication I’m forced to swallow every day and fills a glass of water at the sink.I hate doing it, and a lot of mornings, I gag trying to force them down.
Ash’s poison.
Zane and Dr. Reagan explained why I still need it, but as I swallow the white and blue pills one by one, they add to the filth inside me.
Garbage rotting me from the inside out.
Ingrid stares pointedly at me until the pills are gone. I know how dangerous it could be for my body and mind to stop cold turkey. Sometimes, I think about doing it. Running into the woods and hiding. Letting the withdrawal kill me. Or I’d go crazy, ripping at my face and hair as my body’s denied what Ash taught it to crave.
I’m scared of who I’ll be once I’m finally off the medication. Will I still be me? Or will I be a ghost, my personality drugged out of me?
She rubs my back and whispers, ”Shh, shh,” attempting to soothe. She knows what I think about when I swallow that poison every morning, but she’s a nurse and she understands my body’s addicted and knows it’s not my fault. Zane speaks to Dr. Reagan once a week. They’ve been working tirelessly to wean me off, and every two months my doctor lowers my dosage. I’ve made good progress since Stella broke into my room at Quiet Meadows prompting Zane to look into my care.
I have a therapy appointment in the city and I’m spending the morning in King’s Crossing. Ingrid and I usually go together, but lately I’ve been going alone. She didn’t question my need for independence, it’s what we’ve been working toward, and I never asked what she does to fill in that time.
Handing the glass to her, I say, “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
“Be careful, Zarah.”