Page 25 of Piggy

Charlotte

Grayson and I adjust our clothes in a flurry as the patrol car slows behind my red hatchback. Its headlights flood the road like an interrogation lamp, and when the doors open, I flinch at the sharp sound of boots on gravel.

A flashlight beams straight into my face.

“Evening,” says one of them, tall, broad, and shadowed.

“Hi,” I say, shielding my eyes. My voice comes out too loud.

Oops . Act normal, Charlotte.

“What are your names?” he asks.

“I’m Charlotte.” I glance at Grayson, but before he can answer—

“Oh. Rowen Grayson.” The cop’s tone shifts, more jaded. “Well, well, well. What are you doing out here, parked on a shoulder, this late, with a young woman?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Grayson replies stiffly, jaw tight .

“Yeah, he didn’t!” I chime in, trying to help, but my heel sinks in the grass and I wobble sideways like a newborn deer.

The flashlight snaps back to me.

“Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?”

I smile, dumb. “Well... yeah. But I didn’t drive or anything.”

The cop ignores me and zeroes in on Grayson.

“Late. Remote area. Inebriated woman. Interesting.”

“I’m her designated driver,” Grayson snaps. “Took her friend home already.”

“And pulled over here because...?”

“The car was making noises,” he lies, not even well.

“In the dark?” The cop lifts a brow. “Not under a streetlight?”

Grayson’s jaw clenches. He says nothing.

Then, the flashlight turns on me again.

“Ma’am, you look like you were in a struggle. Did this man hurt you?”

“What?” I scoff, stunned. “No! That’s just... we were in a pool. My make-up’s just... doing stuff.”

“Molli,” the man says, motioning to his partner, a younger woman with a blond ponytail. “Take her to the vehicle.”

“Wait. what? Why?” I call out, glancing at Grayson.

But Molli gently guides me by the elbow, away from him.

His eyes track me. And for the first time tonight, he looks scared.

I’m dizzy .

I don’t feel drunk. But maybe I am. Or maybe this is... a really confusing nightmare.

Molli speaks softly as we near the patrol car. “You’re safe now. You can speak freely. Can you tell me how you ended up here tonight?”

I blink fast. “Oh! You want to know our love story?”

“Your... what?”

“It’s like a Bonte novel! Timeless,” I explain, clutching my chest as I speak. “It started freshman year. Grayson was a bully, but then he kissed me. And we lived together. And he was a gentle lover and made me pancakes and—”

“No, I mean—”

“Oh, yeah. And he was my friend. My boyfriend. My everything.” My heart warms and aches all at once.

“Then he made you aware he assaulted a woman? He was required to inform you when he moved into your home.”

I stare at her for a beat.

“I...” I whisper. “He told me something. That he raped a woman. But I... I didn’t believe him.”

“Has he ever been physically or verbally abusive?”

My stomach turns.

“Wait. Are you saying he really did that?”

My heart drops into my stomach.

Then I spin around, rush to a nearby bush, and hurl. Everything: the shots, the cocktails, the fantasy.

Molli stays close, crouching slightly .

“Do you want me to call an ambulance? You might have alcohol poisoning.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, straightening slowly.

“No. I just... I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect any of this. It was such a good night.”

She studies me.

“Can someone come pick you up?”

“No,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I, um, want to go home with Grayson.”

Her brow scrunches. “Are you sure?”

“I love him,” I say like it’s my weapon and shield. But, my voice is shaky.

She sighs and pulls out a notepad. “Okay. I need your information.”

After that, Grayson has to do a whole walk-the-line thing to prove he’s sober. I sit on the hood of my car, lost in thought. Praying he passes.

He does.

They let us go.

But the car ride after...

Dead silent.

When we arrive home, he parks in my driveway and sighs, annoyed.

“Charlotte, you’re acting like I’ll hurt you. You won’t even touch or look at me. What did that cop say to you? ”

I swallow hard and twist my fingers. “She said... that you raped someone.”

He doesn’t look surprised.

“I already told you I did.”

“Yeah, but, I didn’t believe you.”

He rubs his hand down his face. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

Sadness washes over me. He’s trying to diminish it. Downplay such a deplorable crime.

I sniffle back tears, but a few escape and roll down my cheeks.

His expression clouds with frustration. “Don’t cry. I would never hurt you.”

His large hand reaches for mine, but I jerk it away.

He rolls his eyes. “Charlotte, come on. I’m the same guy I was before those cops showed up.”

I squirm a little. “I just... didn’t think you did it. You’re so sweet to me,” I reply, my brain struggling to reconcile this awful truth with the man I love.

Maybe he is right and it wasn’t so bad. I’m desperate to believe he’s good, so I ask, “What happened exactly?”

He draws in a deep breath, like I’m making this worse.

Maybe I am. Regardless, I push harder.

“Please, tell me.”

“You’ll probably run from me after.”

I bite my bottom lip, wanting to believe I wouldn’t. He would outrun me anyway .

“I wouldn’t run.”

With my reassurance, he stares blankly out the windshield and speaks.

“I was young. Stupid. Robbing a house at night. I went upstairs, saw movement, raised my gun. A woman was leaving the shower in a towel.

“She was scared, of course. A big guy like me, ski mask on, middle of the night, and pointing a gun at her. I thought it was empty. Didn’t know what to do. She moved, but I cocked the gun, warning her. I needed time to think. To leave.

“Then she... dropped her towel. Gorgeous, calm, sat on her bed, spread her legs and fingered herself. Even tilted her head for me to come over.”

He looks over at me, watching.

“I figured she was hoping I’d fuck her instead of kill her, but she also seemed really into it. Like she had a kink for guys in masks.”

I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh my God, Grayson! Women do not like that!”

Instinctively, my fingers curl around the handle, ready to bolt from the car.

He holds back a smirk. “Some women like it, Charlotte.”

I don’t really believe him.

“Anyway, I thought she wanted it.”

I narrow my eyes, but stay silent. In my gut, I just doubt he is telling the truth.

“I fucked her. She didn’t scream. Didn’t run. ”

I’m sick to my stomach.

“But then she started shaking. Crying. Then she ripped off my mask and clawed up my face. Smart girl. Marked me. Memorized me.”

He leans his head back, lets it rest on the seat. “Bobby came in, saw the whole thing.”

“Bobby?” I balk.

Grayson nods. “He did the same to her. She fucking hated him. Now she screamed — until she didn’t. Her eyes never left me. I can’t explain it, but I felt... a connection.”

“You're insane, Grayson!” I scold, but snap my palm over my mouth. I tremble, afraid I just offended a dangerous man. He definitely isn’t who I thought he was.

He doesn’t get mad. Just sighs and closes his eyes.

I try to deflect, my voice small. “Well... what happened next?”

“Police surrounded the house. Bobby ran, but I knew it was pointless. Or maybe I wanted to be caught. Either way, I handed her my gun and said kill me.

“Obviously, she didn’t pull the trigger. She just stared and said: I don’t feel alive ever. I told her I felt the same way.”

I shiver, my heart bleeding for that poor woman. “What happened to her?”

“She testified against us in court. Bobby and I got eight to twelve years. I got out in five. American justice.”

I let out a shaky breath. My fairytale’s shattered .

He leans closer, and I tense. He glares, his gaze challenging. “What? You hate me now, Piggy? Gonna run. Go back on your word like all women do.”

I stammer, confused.

He shakes his head, almost… defeated. “But I see it in your eyes. Afraid of the man who loves you. You’re a hypocrite, Charlotte. Talkin’ about love like it’s everything. And now, I’m nothing to you.”

“Well!” I snap. “I didn’t know what you did was... that bad. I just feel so awful for that girl!”

He smirks.

Literally smiles .

Like this could possibly be amusing!

But then, he leans back, that smile fading fast. “Trust me. She’s fine. It was Meghan.”