“That you almost succeeded in turning me into a monster. I’d known about Darrel for three weeks, I’d talked to him, I’d helped him in some small ways. But wouldn’t call his people.”
“You were protecting us,” she says.
“It was the wrong call!” I scream. “He kept telling me you’d kill him eventually. Deep inside, I knew he was right. But it took me three long weeks to get my shit together and act.”
Mom shakes her head. “We didn’t intend to kill him.”
“Seriously, Mom?” I point at Dad. “I overheard your conversation that night. You’d sealed Darrel’s fate, because he was improving, and it was too risky to let him live.”
Mom’s eyes rake my face, as if searching for something, a measure of sympathy for their motives. I have none to offer.
Dad lifts his chin, his gaze morose and hard. “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Someone rings the doorbell, and then begins to bang on the door. The ruckus grows louder, more insistent.
“Open the door!” Darrel’s booming voice carries to the dining room. “I know she’s there! If you touch a hair on her head, I’ll rip you to pieces!”
Mom and Dad exchange hesitant looks.
I’m heading downstairs when I hear glass shattering. He must’ve smashed one of the ground-floor windows. But the glass is burglarproof, so I don’t know how he did it unless he brought a hammer with him.
Looking over my shoulder, I see Dad dashing to the drawer with the kitchen knives. I rush back but I’m too far to stop him. Darrel bursts into the room. Dad grabs a knife.
Darrel points a gun at him. “I would drop it if I were you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dad puts the knife down.
Darrel’s eyes shift to me. “Are you all right? Did they try anything?”
“No,” I say firmly. “They’d never hurt me.”
His mouth turns down. “Really?”
He’s right.They did mess with my mind for six years.
“Not like that,” I add.
He gestures for me to come to him. “What were you thinking, coming here all by yourself?!”
I rush to his side. “I’m all right, I promise!”
“You can’t stay in this house,” he says, his gun still trained on Dad.
“She’s in her parents’ home!” Mom springs to her feet, defiant. “Not only can she, but shewillstay here. Stella is safer here than anywhere else.”
Darrel shoots me an imploring look. “Your parents are dangerous. Remember what they did to me? Please, don’t make me drag you out of here!”
“You won’t have to.” I turn my back on my parents. “I was leaving, anyway.”
STELLA
At the main door, Darrel sticks the gun under his belt and leads me outside. We walk past the flabbergasted neighbors, who were drawn out by the racket he’d made banging on the door, shouting, and breaking in, no doubt. They give me quizzical looks.
“Stella, are you OK?” one of them asks.
Nodding in reply, I wrap an arm around Darrel’s waist. He pulls me closer. We get into his car and drive away.