Five years on the run, and they finally caught me. The man who cuffed me was my high school boyfriend. The one who’d traded his trust fund for a badge and a gun, all in the name of justice. Across the sterile interrogation table, Ethan Hayes was a mask of professional indifference. “Five years ago,” he began, his voice flat, “did you kill Mark Peterson?” “Yes.” “And what was he to you?” “He was my father.” For the first time, his eyes lifted to meet mine. They were deep, dark pools of something I couldn’t name. “So, when you broke up with me… when you fought tooth and nail to push me away. Was it because of this?” I held his gaze, letting him see the placid surface of my calm. “No,” I said. “I just got tired of you. I’ve always hated perfect, privileged boys born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” 1 When the police found me, I was sitting on a bluff, just staring into space. Below me was a small, unmarked mound of earth. My mother’s resting place. Ethan led the charge, his team fanning out around him, weapons raised. I turned, and our eyes locked across the clearing. His were filled with ice. These were the same eyes that had once pulled me from the brink. The ones that found me when I was trapped in a hell of my father’s making, with a mother too broken to help, convinced the only way out was to end it all. He had been my rescue. Now, all I saw in them was revulsion. In the back of the cruiser, Ethan was silent, his eyes closed. The tension was so thick the other officers in the front seat kept exchanging glances in the rearview mirror. I heard one of them whisper, “What’s with Detective Hayes?” “Probably exhausted. He’s been obsessed with closing this five-year fugitive case.” “Nah, I don’t think it’s that. Heard he met his future mother-in-law yesterday. Probably just tired out from all the wedding stuff.” “He’s getting married soon, right?” “Yeah, I think so. Couple of months, maybe.” “I saw his fiancée once. She’s gorgeous. A concert pianist or something. Seriously impressive.” “Man, Hayes has it all. Hard worker, family’s loaded, and his girl is a knockout. And here we are, a couple of schmucks.” I stared at the back of his head, the familiar broad set of his shoulders framed by the metal grate. From now on, there was an ocean between us, a world of difference. There would never be an ‘us’ again. At the station, I was processed and put in a holding cell. A female officer took everything from my pockets. When she picked up my phone, I asked, “Excuse me, is there any way I can keep that? The pictures on it… they’re important to me.” She gave me a once-over. “It’s evidence. It’ll be logged and stored.” So I’d never get it back. A shame. It held the last fifty pictures of my life. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered anymore. I killed my own father. I wasn't expecting to walk out of here alive. The next day, they led me to the interrogation room. Ethan was there with another detective, a man named Miller. I recognized him. He’d come to our house five years ago, after my mother died, to ask some questions. “Sadie Peterson,” Detective Miller said gently. “Do you remember me?” Of course, I remembered. Five years ago, on a night ripped apart by thunder and lightning, I lost the only person who had ever truly loved me. The next day, he was the one who wouldn’t accept the official story. He knelt down, ignoring my father’s scowl, and asked me again and again. “Hey kiddo, tell me the truth. Was your mom’s death really an accident?” I’d glanced at my father’s stony face beside me. And I nodded. Now, here he was again, just as persistent. “Sadie, did you kill your father and dispose of the body?” I looked him straight in the eye. “Yes. I killed Mark Peterson.” My fingerprints were on his clothes. The bag I’d used to dump the remains still had the knife inside. I’d used so much force the tip of the blade had bent. I saw Ethan’s fingers tighten around his pen, tapping it against his notepad. Thump. Thump. Thump. An old tell. He was agitated. Detective Miller pressed on. “Five years ago, you were the valedictorian at Northwood High. Top of your class. A full ride to Stanford was practically a sure thing.” He looked down at his file. “Your teachers… they all said the same thing. Quiet, gentle, kind. A model student. Why would a girl like that murder her own father?” I lowered my head, my voice barely a whisper. “Because I hated him.” 2 My father was the worst kind of scum on this earth. To my mother and me, he was a demon. Five years ago, I really thought I could escape the mud. That I could have a good life. Teachers were kind, my classmates were friendly, and then… I met Ethan. He was the new transfer student who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, but underneath it all, he was impossibly soft-hearted. And he gave me everything he had. When I collapsed from hunger while working one of my three part-time jobs, Ethan’s eyes would get red and he’d say, “Sadie, I have money. Please, just let me help you. I hate seeing you run yourself into the ground like this.” On my birthday, he took me to his home—a place that looked like something out of a magazine—and whispered, “Baby, one day, this will be our home.” He pointed to his mother, a woman of impossible, quiet grace. “Sadie, this is my mom. One day, she’ll be your mom, too.” I looked at her kind, smiling face. I never could have imagined the complex, dark emotions swimming behind those serene eyes. I learned, eventually. And I paid a terrible price for that knowledge. Under Detective Miller’s questioning, I laid it all bare. The years of abuse, the way Mark had terrorized my mother and me. My voice broke as I got to the end. “That day… he’d been drinking. He started getting angry, and he raised his hand to hit me.” “My mom was gone. It was just him and me in the house. I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. In the panic… I just… I grabbed a knife and I stabbed him.” “Then, I panicked again. I was terrified someone would find out and I wouldn’t be able to go to college. It was like something out of a movie… I dismembered him, and I threw the bags under the old bridge.” I started to tremble, the fear a living thing clawing its way up my throat. “I… I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to… I was just so scared…” Tears streamed down my face. Neither of them said a word. After Miller left, Ethan stayed behind. He asked me one last time. “Sadie. I’m only going to ask you this once more. Five years ago, was it really an accident?” “Yes.” “And you disposed of the body by yourself?” “Yes.” “And when you broke up with me… was it because of this?” His gaze was sharp, trying to bore a hole straight through me. I met it without flinching. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “I just got sick of you. I’ve always hated perfect, privileged boys born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” 3 I really did hate him. Ethan transferred to our school in the fall of our senior year. In a town like ours, a handsome guy pulling up in a Maserati was a major event. He was cocky and charming, and half the girls in school were instantly in love with him. He was popular with everyone in our class. Everyone except me. We barely spoke. It was simple, really. I was too busy. Between the endless homework and studying, every spare second was spent either stocking shelves at the grocery store or clearing trays in the cafeteria. One afternoon, I was bent over a table in the cafeteria when Ethan suddenly walked up behind me. He slipped off his own jacket, a ridiculously expensive-looking thing, and tied it around my waist. “Hey… uh, Sadie,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning a little red. “I think… you know. Your period started.” He practically ran away. My own face flushed hot. It was late this month; I hadn’t even noticed. But I’d already given my mom the cash from my last shift. Buying a box of pads meant skipping dinner. I hesitated, starting to walk toward the convenience store anyway. Just then, Ethan came jogging back, a box of Always in his hand. “The lady at the store said this is what most girls use,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Figured it might be awkward for you right now, so… you should probably go take care of that.” He was tall, over six feet, with dark brows and a smile so earnest it could stop your heart. I heard mine skip a beat. I bit my lip and accepted his kindness. Later, when I found out that jacket cost more than my family made in three months, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I found him on the basketball court after I’d carefully hand-washed and dried it. He was drenched in sweat, laughing with his friends. He saw me and jogged over. “Hey, Sadie. What’s up?” I carefully held out the jacket. “Here. It’s yours.” “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s just a jacket.” “No, it’s… it’s too expensive.” “Alright, well, thanks for washing it.” He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “But seriously, how are you so busy all the time? I see you doing homework late after everyone’s left, and you’re here studying before the sun’s even up. You’re like a machine.” How could I explain to this boy, born into a world of casual luxury, that college wasn’t just an option for me? It was the only escape route I had. He didn’t seem to need an answer, though. After that brief intersection, our worlds drifted apart again. But I knew something had shifted inside me. My heart had developed a new, unsteady rhythm. I started watching him from a distance. I’d see him joking with people, listen to him talk about LeBron and his favorite food and how much he admired Lincoln. I learned he was a huge gamer, a legend online with hundreds of thousands of followers on Twitch. I learned that the SATs were just a formality for him; he already had a spot waiting at a prestigious university overseas, after which he’d slide right into an executive track at his family’s corporation. I knew his future was a brilliant, blazing star, the kind I could spend my entire life chasing and never even get close to. Still, a secret little thought took root in my mind: if I worked hard enough, if I got into Stanford, if I chose a good major… maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that one day I could stand beside him and see the world from the same height. I never imagined he might feel the same way about me. It happened on a spring weekend. I was working part-time at the indoor sports complex. Ethan was there playing basketball and twisted his ankle. His friends wanted to take him to the hospital, but he waved them off. I brought the first-aid kit and knelt in front of him, gently probing his ankle. His skin was tan and warm. He hissed softly as my fingers pressed down. My heart jumped. I’d hurt him. “Does that hurt?” I asked, looking up quickly. Ethan was just staring at me, a dazed look on his face. It took him a second to answer. “No. No, it’s fine.” His breathing was heavier, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I didn’t think anything of it, just focused on carefully wrapping his ankle. From that day on, Ethan was everywhere. He’d show up during my shifts, sit with me in the library while I studied. It became so frequent that even my classmates started to notice. Then, on a day when the wildflowers were blooming all over the hillsides, he told me he was in love with me. We were so young then. We thought love could conquer anything. Until the day I murdered my father. It was two days after graduation. After I’d cleaned up the last of the mess, I went to break up with him. He was so proud, so full of life, but he got on his knees and begged me not to go. His handsome face was streaked with tears. Those eyes… they looked so much like his mother’s. And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. Why did he have to bring a sliver of light into my pitch-black world, only to have it all be a lie? Ethan had no idea what his mother had done. He just kept asking me why. Why was I leaving him? I looked down at him, my voice dripping with ice. “Because you’re not useful to me anymore, obviously.” “My family’s poor. I can barely afford to eat. I was so sick of working all the time.” “Then you showed up. The perfect sucker. Paying for my meals, buying me things… you made my life so much easier.” “Now graduation is over. You’re going overseas. You have no more value to me.” Panic flared in his eyes, his whole body trembling. “Sadie, if that’s the reason, I don’t have to go. I can stay…” A luxury car pulled up beside us. The tinted window slid down, and there was his mother, Eleanor Hayes, watching us. Her eyes were devoid of warmth, but we both knew what this was about. I looked back at Ethan, my expression cold and final. “Don’t bother. You’re terrible in bed anyway. You disgust me.” “Stop following me around, Ethan. We’re not from the same world. You and I both know that.” “Go be the little prince your mommy wants you to be. And stay the hell away from me.” Years passed. The next time we saw each other, we were a cop and a criminal. 4 They put me in the deepest part of the detention center. Inmates like me, high-risk, were kept in isolation. The days without seeing Ethan were a blur. I’d lean against the cold concrete wall and just… drift. My mind was a slideshow of two images. The brilliant, dazzling smile of an eighteen-year-old boy. And the bright, clear laughter of a little girl. She was so sweet, running through a field of grass, her voice calling out to me. Mommy, Mommy! She’d asked me once, Mommy, do people turn into stars when they die? She’d said, Mommy, I want to stay with you forever. I don’t want to be sick anymore. She’d cried, Mommy, the shots hurt so much. When will my heart get better? She’d whispered, Mommy, I don’t want to die. I traced the old, faded scar on my wrist. Murder and desecration of a corpse. That had to be a death sentence, right? I hoped my sweet girl was walking slowly on the other side. The investigation took longer than I expected. A week went by and no one came to see me. Then one evening, a female guard, the one from my intake, brought me a box of tampons. “Do you know Detective Hayes?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “He asked me to buy these for you. I was surprised.” I shook my head. “We’re not close. He’s probably just a kind person.” “I don’t think so. I’ve been at this precinct since he transferred in. I’ve never seen him do something like this for an inmate.” She paused, looking at me more closely. “You know, Sadie, I remember you. After you graduated, your score… 1550 on the SATs… you were in the newspaper. A hometown hero.” “Everyone said you were a shoo-in for the Ivy League, a real credit to Northwood. No one can believe you’d do something like this.” She lowered her voice. “We looked into your dad. He was a known lowlife, a real piece of work. If there’s something more to this story, you have to tell Detective Miller. It could help you at sentencing.” I shook my head again. “There’s no need. We’re all equal before the law. I’ll accept whatever punishment I deserve.” A few days later, Detective Miller brought some papers for me to sign. On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I asked a question. “That other detective… why isn’t he here?” Miller glanced up at me. “Detective Hayes had a family matter to attend to. He’s on leave.” The tip of my pen paused on the paper, a dark blot of ink spreading. My mind flashed back to the conversation I’d overheard in the cruiser. He’s getting married soon. The signature was a mess. My hand was shaking too much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” “It’s fine,” Miller said. “It’s still valid.” A few more days, and then the trial. It was for the best. His life had nothing to do with mine anymore. I never expected to see Ethan’s mother again. She’d made a special request to visit me. I was stunned when they told me. Five years hadn’t changed her. Eleanor Hayes was still the very picture of untouchable elegance. But maybe it was just me, because I thought I saw a new, sinister darkness lurking beneath the surface. When she looked at me through the glass, her eyes were filled with pure hatred. “Sadie. It’s been five years. Why didn’t you just die out there?” “It’s all your fault. Because of you, Ethan refused to go to college abroad. Because of you, his father gave up on him and started grooming that bastard son of his from another woman.” “You ruined our perfect lives. You’re a curse, a black hole. You should be in hell.” Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. “Stop haunting him. Leave my son alone. I’m begging you. Go die, rot in jail, I don’t care. Just get as far away from him as you possibly can.” I met those eyes, so eerily similar to Ethan’s, and a bitter laugh wanted to bubble up inside me. “Eleanor,” I said softly. “You’re the one who destroyed your own son.” “You remember what you said to Mark Peterson, don’t you? I never told Ethan because I didn’t want to break his heart.” “I killed Mark. There’s a good chance I’ll get the death penalty for it. So you should probably stop visiting me. You wouldn’t want me to drag you down to hell with me, would you?”
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