Chapter 48: DEAD 3

Heather’s smirk deepened as she swung the bat lazily over her shoulder, the sound of it whipping through the air of the basement. Her eyes glinted with amusement as she looked me up and down, as though she’d already won whatever twisted game she thought we were playing.

"You know," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "I’ve thought about this moment for a long time. You, standing there all high and mighty like you’re better than everyone else. Always thinking you’re untouchable. When…" She let out a short laugh. "You're really not. Sorry to disappoint you"

She stepped closer, the bat tapping lightly against her palm now. "It’s funny, isn’t it? You, of all people, crying your eyes out after your little dip in the pool. Everyone thought the mighty Blakely Torres didn’t know fear, but I saw it. I caused it.I heard about it. And I loved it."

I clenched my fists tighter, my nails biting into my skin. Was she this insufferable? I mean I know she's trouble but taunting me to get a reaction is annoying, but I wasn’t about to give her one.

Her expression darkened, the smugness twisting into anger. Like she's been waiting for this moment. "You ruined my life, you know that?" she spat, licking her lips. "Do you have any idea what it was like in that jail? What I went through because of you?"

I held her gaze, my chest tightening with every word she threw at me.

She sneered. "Oh, don’t give me that look. You think you’re a victim here? You’re not. You’re a spoiled little brat who had everything handed to her on a silver platter while I was left to pick up the pieces of my life. And for what? Because you couldn’t handle a little lie, when everything I did was for you, because of you?"

I kept quiet, my jaw locked so tight it ached.

She stopped just a few feet away, leaning on the bat now, with everything but a relaxed expression. "You know what I think? I think it’s time you learned what it’s like to be at the bottom for once. To have someone else hold all the power. So here’s what we’re gonna do."

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "You’re going to kneel. Right here. On this filthy floor. And you’re going to ask me for forgiveness. Beg for it, actually." She smirked again, her teeth flashing in the dim light. "And if you’re convincing enough, maybe—just maybe—I’ll think about letting you go."

I glanced at the filthy floor, and back at her. Wondering if she's gone crazy because the audacity wasn't giving in any way.

Was she okay?

Like okay in the head?

Me? Kneel, and BEG for forgiveness for her stupidity.

I stared at her, the room around us falling away until it was just her and me, her smug face, and that bat she held like some kind of trophy. Kneel? Beg? For her?

She was out of her damn mind.

Her smug grin faltered when I didn’t move. Her bat, which she brought as a prop for intimidation, lowered slightly as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. She glared at me, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Fine,” she snapped, tossing her hair back. She tossed my bag roughly to the floor with a loud thud, the contents inside rattling from the impact, and my mind skipped a beat when I thought out my phone inside. “If you don’t want to do this the easy way, then we’ll do it the hard way.”

She gripped the bat with both hands, her knuckles turning white, and began swinging it in the air. She swung the bath, one time, two times, trying to instill the fear in me but all that went through my mind was how to get it off her hands.

Heather's crazy, like the stupid kind, and delusional. She just imagine things and expect it to go that way.

Instead, I shook my head, letting a mocking smirk stretch across my lips. “Is that it?” I asked, my tone dripping with disdain. “You brought a bat because you were scared?”

She froze mid-swing, her expression turn from satisfied to anger and confusion.

I tilted my head, staring at her like she was some sad, pathetic creature. “I mean, it makes sense. You’re scared I might beat you to a pulp, so you had to bring a weapon. That’s weak, baby. Really weak.”

I watch her grip on the bat tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might lunge at me.

I shrugged, my smirk widening. “Why don’t you drop the bat? Huh? Fight me properly if you have to. Or are you not confident in your hate? Your skills?” I took a deliberate step closer, watching her squirm just a little. “We did take taekwondo classes together, didn’t we? Or have you forgotten how to raise a fist, you stupid bitch?!”

She glanced down at the bat in her hands, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

Gotcha.

Her mind has always been easy to infiltrate, like walking through an unlocked door. She had the ego to hatch the most disturbing plans and the gall to carry them out, but when it came down to it? She was a house of cards. All it took was the right words, a little nudge, and she’d start to question herself.

I mean, wasn’t her ego the reason she got arrested in the first place? Committing a crime is one thing, but deciding you’re too clever to get caught? That’s a whole new level of stupid. She’d tried to play the role of the “untouchable mystery,” the mastermind behind the crime, but her pride painted a target on her back when she decided to put a face on the mysterious second degree attempted manslaughter suspect.

Foolish.

And now, here we were, back where we started: with her thinking she’s in control, and me poking holes in her fragile psyche.

I crossed my arms and waited, watching her wrestle with her thoughts. The way she stared at that bat, her pride warring with her common sense, was almost amusing.