CHAPTER 8
It's not love.
??
I've been so close to her... that I can still remember the exact scent of her perfume. That soft trail she leaves behind as she passes by. I still remember the inevitable dimples that form every time she smiles, her hair wet after showering, her clean face... so natural, so perfect.
I'm mesmerized by the way she moves, the way she acts, unaware that everyone—everyone—seems to want to stay by her side. As if something inside her won't let them go. As if they know, without knowing, that she's special. Mine.
And yet, it makes me twist inside... feel the anger rise like a slow burn every time I see her look at someone else. What right does she have to look at someone else? What would they think if they knew that soon that person would no longer be there? That they would disappear, right before their eyes. I want to see it... I want to see their reaction when there's no one else left.
It moves me to watch her try to resist. That wall she puts up to protect herself... one I already know how to break through.
She's always been beaten down by life, again and again. But I'm here. I'll save her. Because she needs me more than anyone. She must look only to me. So defenseless, so fragile... so broken, that no one has the right to hurt her. No one—except me.
And if anyone dares... if anyone harms her before I can complete her, rebuild her... then I will make them disappear.
I will wipe away their tears. We will wipe away their blood. We will wipe away their lives... of all those who hinder me.
Only then will she be mine. Completely mine.
I know everything about her.
He always wakes up at 6:42 a.m., even though his alarm clock is set to 6:45. He hates the sound, so he gets up earlier. The first thing he does is open the curtains in his room, the one over the left window—the one that doesn't close properly, the one that gets stuck if it rains.
She eats a light breakfast: half a banana and coffee, with two tablespoons of sugar and skim milk. On Fridays, she sometimes adds toast with strawberry jam, but only if she slept well. I know this because she doesn't when she has those small dark circles under her eyes, which she tries to cover with the concealer she keeps in the second drawer of the bathroom, next to the makeup remover wipes and the pain relief pill she takes during her period.
She always walks along the same sidewalk on her way to the bus stop to wait for Jeff to pick her up. Her favorite spot is the back seat, next to the window, where she can look out and pretend the world doesn't exist.
She has a friend she talks to too much, named "Camila," and lately she's been seeing a new girl, "Ámbar." I've seen the messages she doesn't answer, the calls she ignores. She doesn't need them. No one understands her like I do.
She arrives at the library at 8:06. She always greets everyone with that smile. She always says "good morning" in a voice that seems otherworldly. And no one, absolutely no one, notices how that smile changes when she's alone. How her face breaks as soon as she sees herself in the mirror.
She doesn't know I've followed her home. That I've already been in. That I know the exact sound her bedroom door makes when it opens at night. That I've been within six feet of her bed while she slept. That I know the polka dot pattern on her back by heart. That I've seen her cry silently, clutching that stupid gray pillow with the pink trim.
I know what songs she plays over and over again when she's sad. Number 3 on her "Winter" playlist, the one that says no one stays. I know she keeps her parents' letters in the blue box at the top of her closet, and that she still can't bring herself to read the last one. From her real parents, of course.
I see her looking at the photo album from when she was little, the one she keeps with her best friend and her friends. But I know she's especially focused on those photos where he... Liam... appears. I held back from deleting it, thinking it wouldn't be a problem, but it seems she hasn't forgotten.
And now that they text each other from time to time to talk, I notice his interest every time he answers.
I have to do it.
There's no way out.
And the best part is, he doesn't know what's coming yet. He doesn't know I'm so close. That I've been in every corner of his world. That every time he smiles at someone else... he's just teasing me.
It won't be long now. Soon, everything else won't matter anymore.
It'll just be her and me.
And no one will be able to get in the way.
[...]
ARI
It just can't be.
It just can't be.
It just can't be.
It's not him, it's not. I know it. Ian wasn't even supposed to be close to me, but he still ended up in this situation. He had promised.
That idiot. That damn day.
Jeff couldn't hold back. As soon as he saw it was Ian, he hit him, but my dad intervened. He reminded him of the consequences if people found out. Both my mom and dad promised to fix the problem and left out the part where Jeff lost control.
They wanted to keep Jeff from getting into trouble with his family. Because they'd be back at the police station for him .
"Take the pill," my mother offered as she pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up to cover my head; it was very cold at the station compared to outside.
I brought it to my mouth and took a sip of water, peering through the glass next to Jeff. His parents were on the other side, and my dad was glaring at Ian, who sat handcuffed, now conscious, watching the cameras around him.
Jeff hadn't spoken to me since. He wasn't angry... he was struggling with his thoughts.
When you have so much confidence in someone and then they prove you wrong...
"When will the detective arrive? Did they tell you I was here?" Jeff's father asked in his deep, mature voice. Beside him, Miss Lily seemed to be trying to get closer to Jeff, but she couldn't.
"Don't be impatient, Henry. We must wait for our children. At least they're okay," my father replied, trying to ease the tension in the air.
"I don't understand how you got into this trouble, Jeff. Can't you just stay away from the mistakes? At this rate, I'll have to send you away," his father complained, but Jeff kept his gaze fixed on Ian, completely ignoring him.
I didn't ignore him. And what he said scared me. Sending you away. I didn't like it... and even less so now.
"It wasn't Jeff's fault," I said. Jeff's father looked at me when he heard my words. "It was my fault."
"Ari," Jeff said in a tone that told me I should shut up, but I didn't.
—I'm sorry for getting Jeff into trouble. He just wanted to help me. I've been going through things I can't control, and Jeff has protected me from the boy who seems to be stalking me. He's been close to me for two years.
"A boy bullying you?" Jeff's dad asked. I assumed Jeff hadn't told him anything.
"Yes, he's been watching me. I talked to him without thinking about the consequences, and now he's tried to hurt the people close to me. He seems to want to isolate me," I replied.
Mrs. Lily then approached Jeff.
"Son, why didn't you tell us anything?" She approached him to ask, and when she tried to touch him, Jeff gently pushed her away.
"I don't want to be taken away from her," Jeff replied, and his father let out a deep sigh.
Mr. Henry looked at my father, who was standing next to me.
"Why didn't you tell us anything, Gabriel?" he asked, somewhat annoyed.
"I assumed your son would tell you, but I see he didn't. I was more focused on keeping Ari safe. We couldn't sleep because we were so mortified that something might happen to him. And the police… they don't make that much progress," my father replied. Henry nodded, understanding that perhaps the last thing on his mind was talking to them. "I was worried about Jeff too, but I didn't think they'd go so far as to hide something so sensitive from you."
We felt our parents' eyes on us. I avoided looking at Jeff, who seemed to care little about what was being said.
I never asked him what his parents thought about the situation, but I didn't so as not to make him uncomfortable.
"Jeff," Mr. Henry called, getting no response.
"Son," he insisted, now without using his name. "I know you don't like everything I do with politics, but these things can't be ignored. I know I can be a little annoying sometimes because I'm tired, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
I saw Jeff lower his gaze, but before he could say anything, the conversation was interrupted by Officer Garcia. He was accompanied by a younger officer, whom I remembered seeing at the hospital when we spoke with Garcia.
"Good evening. We're sorry to have kept you waiting so long," Officer Garcia greeted in his usual formal tone. "I'm sorry to see you in these circumstances, Mr. Henry."
"It's all for the family... but I don't understand how you lied to us," Mr. Henry said. His tone changed; it no longer sounded formal, but harsh, almost intimidating. "The last time we came to the station for him, they told us it was a fight at a party. But now I know it wasn't like that."
"Well, I spoke to them at the hospital, and then they went with my colleagues to the station. I wasn't present after the statement, nor when they picked up their children," Officer García replied, also looking at my parents. "I don't understand what motivated them to lie."
"I paid them," Jeff interrupted. "It wasn't hard to get them to shut up."
"Jeff! What's wrong with you? Even the way you express yourself... I didn't raise you like that," his mother said, scolding him in a hurt tone.
"What?" Jeff replied tersely. "It's not hard to convince them... you just need a little money."
"How much did you pay them?" I asked, confused. Jeff hadn't been working... did he use his parents' money?
"Ten thousand," he replied.
I opened my eyes in surprise.
"Ten thousand?!" I repeated at the same time as his father, although his tone was much stronger. "Just to shut them up!? Son, I need to teach you how to negotiate."
That last bit completely baffled me. The detective's expression was almost a joke: he didn't seem to know whether to laugh or worry. Jeff's father almost implied that paying to silence someone was common.
"Gentlemen," Garcia intervened firmly. "Leave that for later. I suggest you focus now, because we'll be seeing the interrogation of Ian, the young man who appears to be stalking your children."
"This is Detective Johnson. He's here from London to investigate Ari's case and the drugs involved," Garcia added.
"London?" I asked, confused. I didn't understand why someone from abroad would come to Mexico.
"Yes, ma'am," Detective Johnson replied with a barely perceptible foreign accent. "I learned Spanish during my studies at Harvard University. Spanish is just one of the languages I've learned, but it's been very useful in thoroughly investigating this case."
"And why would you be interested in my daughter's case?" my father asked. I focused my attention on the answer.
—Well... I received information about the disappearances of girls who had been harmed and drugged. Maybe they didn't die the same way, but there was something similar in the method: suffering. They were all teenagers. And even though we're in a country where disappearances are common, I realized they chose to do it here because they knew no one would investigate thoroughly. That it would just be one more... one more statistic.
Officer Garcia had already told me about other girls who'd gone through the same thing as me. But when I tried to ask him more, he only told me that the information was confidential out of respect for the victims. Without names, there wasn't much I could find. The news only gave general information, nothing that would connect the cases.
"Was it here in Nuevo León too?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"I understand there were approximately five girls, and they all disappeared in Mexico City, although on different dates. The first was..." He paused and took out a sheet of paper and began to read. "The first victim: Ximena Martínez, 18, a second-semester university student. She was found dead three months after being reported missing. Hanna Dominique, 15, was a senior in high school and was found dead in her school bathroom approximately two months ago."
"Weren't we on vacation two months ago?" I asked, looking at Jeff, who just nodded.
"I suppose Ian went to Mexico City around that time and met her. Then..." He trailed off. It disgusted him. I placed my hand on his shoulder to calm him down, and his father approached him.
"I'm fine, Father," Jeff said, taking a deep breath.
"It's a good theory... but with the wrong person," the detective replied, then turned to me. "Don't you think so, miss?"
My parents looked at me confused, not understanding.
"Yes," I said. "Ian didn't kill them, but he was involved. He knows what happened to them."
"How can you be so sure?" my father asked. "Are you forgetting he tried to attack you in the elevator?"
"He wanted to attack me," Jeff chimed in, answering for me.
"I know who the culprit is," I said, a shiver running through my body just thinking about him. "I know who's stalking me."
"What? You know?" Officer Garcia asked, surprised.
—I know... because he belongs to the family that murdered my parents. My biological parents.
"What the fuck?" Jeff exclaimed, bewildered.
The living room door opened, and Ámbar and Camila entered, accompanied by their parents.
"We'll talk later," the detective said. I felt my mother's head rest on mine.
"Did you really see those people's faces? You were little..." she whispered just for me.
—I've never been able to forget it.
I still remember Ariana's face, my biological mother, with tears in her eyes. Crawling toward me to protect me, after they pulled us from the car, just before the explosion. She begged them to let me and my father go. They shot her mercilessly.
"My daughter, I'm sorry..." I heard her voice in my head, and I walked away abruptly. Everyone was looking at me.
"We must begin the interrogation. Thank you for accompanying your children; they need their parents right now. It's necessary to keep them safe," Garcia said.
Amber's parents approached mine and Jeff's parents to greet them, while Amber stood next to me and touched my shoulder.
"Are you okay?" he asked me gently.
I nodded, holding back the lump in my throat.
"I understand that you don't want to talk," he added.
I looked down. I didn't have the strength to answer. I looked at Jeff, who was talking to Camila. She then looked at me as if she could sense I was the most affected. She tilted her head, her eyes glazed over, and gave me a slight smile. Her presence was enough.
Jeff stood on my other side. He took my hand just as the detective entered the room with Ian.
He had his head resting on the table. He lifted it, and a smile spread across his face.
"I never thought I'd see you in Mexico," Ian said, as the detective sat down across from him.
"They made him come here," the detective replied.
Ian laughed .
—What makes you laugh?
"No, don't get me wrong. I'm flattered you've traveled from your country, all luxurious, to a place as different as this," Ian replied, lightly scratching the table with his fingers.
Was he on drugs? I wondered. Why did he seem to know the detective?
"Why did you come to Mexico?" she asked Ian, which confused me even more. "Did you need to sell more drugs?"
I looked at Jeff, who was looking at me at the same time. We both had the same expression.
Ian wasn't a puppet. He wasn't being manipulated by the stalker. He was aware of everything he was doing.
I took a deep breath. This was going to be hard. We were all going to get hurt. Amber, Camila, Jeff... and finally, me. Because, at some point, we all believed in Ian. We believed he was our friend.
And now we were here, sitting across from him, as if he were a stranger. No... as if he were a monster with a familiar face.
"I don't even know why you're asking if you already know the answer," Ian said with a calmness that chilled my blood.
The detective looked at him seriously, unfazed.
—Of course. Our bosses needed more money... and well, they also asked us for other things.
"The 'other things,' I suppose you mean the girls," the detective said, taking some papers out of his jacket. He showed her a sheet of paper. "Do you know her?"
I bowed slightly, as if my body needed to prepare for what was coming.
Ian walked over to look at the photo. Then he sat back calmly in his chair.
"Sandra," he replied without emotion. The detective showed another photo... and another. Ian recognized them one by one. "Hanna, Ximena, Vivian, Andrea... What about them? They're already dead."
A shiver ran down my arms.
How can you talk like that? How can you throw around their names as if they were lost objects, not people?
"Were you involved with them?" the detective asked.
Ian let out a sound somewhere between contempt and mockery, accompanied by a slight laugh. I felt my stomach tighten.
Are you making fun of me? Can you really laugh after what you did?
"Not with all of them," he replied disdainfully. "Just with Hanna and Ximena. They were very close sisters. That made it more... annoying. Especially Hanna. She complicated everything."
His hand made a dry sound as it scraped the tabletop. He couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned toward the detective and beckoned him closer.
—She caught me... but I shouldn't have opened my mouth. Women are always like that, aren't they? So sentimental... but so weak. It wasn't hard to get rid of her.
No... no, please. Don't say that. You can't say that like it means nothing. You can't talk like that about someone you killed.
"You damn idiot!" Jeff's father shouted.
"My God... I was only fifteen," my mother whispered, covering her face.
I couldn't speak. I just felt a lump in my throat. A mixture of rage, sadness, and a hopelessness I didn't know how to contain.
—Was your original target Ximena?
"My target?" Ian sighed. His voice changed only slightly, but I could tell. "She wasn't my target..."
Was that pain in his voice? Remorse? Or just acting?
—So why did you kill her?
—I didn't want to do it... but I had to.
—What reasons did they give you?
—She didn't agree with what I was doing. And she was going to leave me.
—What made her angry?
—I told her the reason I was in Mexico was to find young girls for my bosses. You know... they took advantage of them. Then, clearly, they asked us to take care of them. She asked me if I was one of them... and I told her no.
—Weren't you planning on handing her over?
—How would I do it? I... loved her.
Love? Is that love? No. That's not love. That's selfishness. Love isn't destroying someone so others won't. Love isn't keeping quiet and killing.
"But you ended up killing her," the detective said bluntly.
—It was... the best.
—The best part? You didn't just kill Ximena. You killed her sister too. You left a family with wounds that will never heal.
—What else did you want me to do? If I didn't do it... they would. And not only that... they would have hurt them much more. They knew I had contact with that family. They thought I'd be another victim. But no. I really wanted something with her.
—Were you in love with Ximena?
The air in the room thickened. Ian closed his eyes, breathed, and finally said:
—Yes. I loved her.
How cruel it is when it makes you believe that killing is caring.
"But it's over," Ian added. "She won't come back. And it was my fault. I dragged her into this. Into a life I already knew I couldn't fix. She ended up hating me… she told me so. Then she closed her eyes. And her sister… she knew things. She was investigating. She was going to talk to a detective. But I never knew which one."
"With me," the detective said. Ian sat back in his chair.
"You say you protected them... that you did it for them. But they both suffered. Until the last second. Because of you," the detective continued.
Ian shook his head several times. He didn't want to believe it. He wanted to convince himself of another story. But he couldn't.
—I loved Ximena... but I couldn't give her up. When they realized I was resisting, they gave me two options. Either I could give her up and, if I wanted, let her live. Or I could kill her , but without putting her through the suffering .
—I can see you're hurting... but you didn't just lose someone you claimed to love. You killed a 15-year-old girl. You allowed more girls to die. Not just die, but suffer in the process.
—I... only cared about Ximena.
—And just as you only thought about her, there was someone who only thought about them. He also wanted to see them again. They cried for them. And you took away from many the chance to be free.
—This life was my lot. If I want to stay alive, I have to do all of this.
Did this life touch you? And the lives you touched?
—And didn't it hurt you to lie to those who thought you were their friend? You tried to hurt them too...
—I didn't want to get involved. But he... he was going through the same thing as me. Like with Ximena. Although... it wasn't the same kind of crush.
—Who is "he"?
—If I told him, I'd do all his work for him. Besides... he's like my brother. I'm not going to betray him.
The detective frowned.
—Did you meet Ari?
My heart stopped for a second.
The detective asked about me for the first time, and Ian nodded.
-Yeah.
—Were they friends?
"Not for long," Ian shrugged, "but I realized that everything he told me about her was true."
—What did he tell you?
—Everything. How he planned to have her all to himself. How he planned to drive everyone away from her. How he would woo her until she fell completely. He knows her inside out: what she likes, what she doesn't, her habits, her schedule... He's sickened by her. Even though he says he feels the same way I felt about Ximena, it's not the same. He loves the suffering he causes her. It's different. Dark.
—Don't you think it's unfair?
"For Ari?" Ian repeated, as if the answer were obvious. The detective nodded. "I told him it was dangerous to fall in love with her. Not only because his father was the cause of what happened to his biological parents, but because he couldn't reason anymore. He was obsessed. He believes she and he are destined to be together."
He's talking about that night.
—When did he start talking about her?
—Before. I knew about her existence. I knew her story, but at the time, I wasn't interested. Until we moved permanently to the state to start selling drugs and fulfilling demands from abroad. One day, he told me he'd seen her. That he got curious. He followed her. He said she might be a good victim for the bosses, but he changed his mind when he saw her enter the cemetery to visit her parents' graves.
—And what changed?
—He came closer after she left, saw the names... and realized they were the same people his father had killed years ago.
So from the beginning I knew who he was, it was his plan.
—How did you contact her?
—He was never like that... I think everything we carried around was affecting him mentally. We lived with our hands dirty. He started researching her online. He found out she had a boyfriend at her school. He saw they seemed happy... and that pissed him off. He threw the laptop on the floor. He cut his hands... but he didn't care. I told him to calm down. That she wasn't important, that we had work, errands. But he didn't listen. He never does.
"That's when he got too obsessed," the detective said, his tone serious.
—He made us go to the same high school as her. He forced me to get close to him. While he tried to "seduce" her.
—Did he try to make her fall in love with him?
—She said she'd give in. That she was emotionally weak. That after what she did to Liam, she'd seek solace. That this was her chance to show him how different he was.
The door slammed open, interrupting the conversation. It was Liam. His presence snapped me out of my trance. My head was hurting—not just from the interrogation, but from everything I was hearing. The pieces were starting to fall into place—but I didn't want them to.
Liam looked at me with concern. Then he turned around when he saw Ian behind the glass.
—What did he do to Liam?
—She drugged him. At first, she said her crush on Ari wouldn't work out, but
she realized she'd never leave Liam because she truly loved him. And then she did the stupid thing. She used the girls who came with us. They also said it would land us straight in jail. That the doctors would notice it wasn't a known drug.
What...? The girls? The ones from the party?
—But it didn't stop him. He started drugging Liam with dangerous doses. The girls started complaining. They were scared. They were reported missing. They didn't want to be found. So he drugged them too. That way he could control them better. And I... I stepped aside.
—Were they kidnapped?
—No... at first they wanted to work with us. Easy money. They were young fools. But when they were high... they stopped being themselves. They lived their fears, their nightmares. The same thing that happened to Liam.
—Did you ever think about stopping him?
—Me? And how can I help? He was completely blinded by his obsession. I've known him since we were kids. And even if I don't agree... he knows that, in the end, I'm on his side.
—Did you meet Liam?
—Not much. I only saw him occasionally with Ari before the drugs kept him away. But I know she didn't abandon him, despite everything.
—You say that because Ari held on even when Liam was hitting her.
Liam raised his hand. He touched the glass. Then he lowered it and bowed his head. As if he thought we were all judging him.
"Liam? Hit her?" Ian laughed as if it were absurd. "Liam never touched her."
I stopped. I was about to walk over to Liam, take his hand, hug him... but I froze when I heard that.
What are you saying...? What do you mean he never touched me? So...?
"What are you talking about?" the detective asked.
—Despite being drugged, he never touched her. I thought he would, because most people turn violent... but he didn't. He controlled himself. He always did it, even if it didn't seem like him.
—So how do you explain what Ari felt? How did he see and feel the blows?
—How do you think? She was drugged too. My dear friend... he made her see Liam during the attacks. He manipulated her hallucinations. He caused her to see him. He was the one who hit her, not Liam. But in her mind... it was different.
I felt my legs give way. My body wobbled. A dizziness ran through me from head to toe.
I was drugged too... Me too... And all this time I blamed Liam?
And he... never touched me?
Now I understood why his face didn't fit in my mind. Why everything seemed like a nightmare. Because... it was. A constructed, manipulated nightmare... and I fell for it.
I fell like everyone else.
"What did that idiot do? What did Ian do to my daughter?" my father asked, almost shouting, which made everyone look at him. Even the detective looked up at the glass, though he clearly couldn't see us. Ian also turned around and was surprised to find we were listening.
I turned away so I couldn't see the glass anymore, stepped back, and leaned against the wall, covering my ears to avoid hearing my father's argument, wanting to leave the room and run to Ian to confront him. My mother approached me.
"Calm down, Ari... calm down," he said, feeling my whole body shake. Now I understood the dreams, how everything kept going on in my mind, out of my control, how everything kept burning inside me. I saw Liam's gaze on me, and he moved closer. My mother looked at him, then back at me.
—Do you need it now?
I barely heard her, still with my hands over my ears. The voices in the background continued to echo, while Jeff's father tried to calm mine down and the police officer blocked the door to prevent him from leaving. Ámbar and Camila watched me from a corner, along with their parents, who told them not to come closer when they saw me so upset.
Jeff watched me as I spoke to his mother, who was crying inconsolably over the situation.
"You need him now? Don't you?" my mother repeated. I looked at her, my eyes filling with tears, just like Liam's.
He was referring to him.
She walked away to go get my father, knowing that only she could calm him down.
"Ari," Liam said, as he brought his hands up to mine, still covering my ears, and gently lowered them.
Then he grabbed my face, and without being able to control myself, my tears began to flow.
"Forgive me," he said, and came over to hug me. I burst into tears, leaning against him, as if everything was finally beginning to come out. The sobs were loud, and his shirt ended up soaked with tears.
"You... don't have... anything to apologize for. You didn't do anything," I managed to say through my tears, and he hugged me tighter. "I knew you weren't bad, but no one believed me."
"I didn't even believe it myself, Ari. He manipulated us," Liam replied. "He tried to break us up, but here we are. We're together, despite the time and everything that happened."
I hugged him tightly, wrapping my arms around him, feeling his closeness completely.
"Sir," the detective's voice made us separate. He looked at my father. "You need to control yourself. I know this is your daughter, but you need to be strong," he said, and finally he looked at me, noticing how Liam was trying to protect me. "Especially you. That boy seems to be quite an experienced killer, despite his age."
"Did he say his name?" my father asked.
The detective shook his head.
"She won't say anything today, but there will be other interrogations. However, what she said at the end gave us a glimpse that the drug you took," she said, looking at Liam and me, "was administered in different ways: oral and nasal. But mostly nasal. According to what she said, the person responsible is someone with experience in its manufacture, so much so that they can also transform it into a gas and release it into the air. That's what happened in Liam's apartment. All of the young lady's hallucinations and seizures occurred there. It was logical that the authorities thought Liam was the culprit. That was the plan: to leave no doubt that he was doing it, even if it wasn't true. Besides, the drug in Ari was causing visions of Liam. Everything was happening as the real culprit had planned."
I looked at the glass, where Ian was still sitting, looking around with a disturbing calmness, despite everything he had said.
"How did he get her to see Liam and not him?" I asked.
—According to Ian, at the time you were deeply in love with Liam, and the drug touched on people's greatest fears. Yours seemed to be losing him, because he matters to you. Your mind portrayed the boy you were in love with as terrifying, someone who would shatter your illusion of true love. And even if nothing happened to Liam, what Ian said was that you wouldn't bear to lose him, because it would be like reliving what happened to your parents.
I clenched my fists, filled with rage. I looked back at Ian. Despite everything, he never tried to stop me from hurting him. He said he'd always support me, but he let it all happen. Whether he knew me well or not, he let it happen.
"He was our friend," Jeff said. "How can he say all that?"
"Young man," the detective replied seriously, "just because you considered him a friend doesn't mean he did too."
It was like a bucket of cold water for everyone.
I walked away from Liam slowly, without raising suspicions. They thought I'd get closer to my father.
"Daughter?" my father asked.
But without warning, I ran toward the door, which was now empty because Officer Garcia was no longer guarding it. I ran out into the living room, closed the door behind me, and turned to look directly at Ian. I took a deep breath.
"Open the door!" shouted the detective on the other side.
"Daughter, please!" my father said, standing next to my mother.
—Ari, come back, it's dangerous —I heard Liam.
"I'll talk to him and then I'll leave," I shouted, so they could hear me.
"Don't do anything stupid!" Jeff shouted. "Open the door!"
I turned to Ian, who was watching me intently, but without surprise.
"Hi, Ari," he said.
I sat across from him at the table.
"Why?" I asked. "Why did you do it?"
I knew he noticed my watery eyes, that he knew I wanted to cry.
—Ari... I don't...
—Why?! Tell me why!
—It's nothing personal with you. I just... I can't stop him.
—He's your friend? Is that what you're going to say? And us? Jeff? Weren't we your friends too? How can you be so hypocritical and say you can't do anything? You didn't do anything because you didn't want to!
—But it wasn't personal. I told him that wasn't love.
—Of course it's not love! He doesn't know anything about love. He's just hurting me and he says he loves me!
—He just wanted to have what you had with Liam, and since he couldn't get it, he did all this.
—Did he ask you to hurt Jeff?
—He thought it was a hindrance. He thought you were getting over Liam and falling for Jeff.
I got up from the table, furious, and walked over to him to look at him more closely, and he stepped back in surprise.
—He ruined my life. Everything that was going well in it, he destroyed: my relationship, my friends, my family. I cut everyone off when Liam was arrested. No one understood anything. And now you're telling me it was all... because of an obsession?
—Ari, he's corrupted. He has no remorse for what he does.
—Do you think I don't know? I'm living it!
-Sorry...
"No! A 'sorry' doesn't fix anything!" I yelled. I felt someone grab me from behind and drag me out of the room.
"Miss, you need to leave. You're not authorized," Officer Garcia said.
—Tell me why he did it! Why does he make me suffer like this?! What did I do to deserve it?!
—Ari... he'll never change, Ian said.
That made me move closer, but the arms holding me from behind became firmer.
—And to think that you too, Ian... looked as innocent as Dylan.
"How do you know..." he asked, his eyes wide open. "How did you find out?"
"Did you think I was stupid enough not to know? The only reason I didn't tell was because I wanted to make him suffer... like he made me suffer."
"How long have you known?" he asked, incredulous. "Ari, he's not just anyone. You can't stop him on your own."
—And who said I'll do it alone?
Ian started laughing, as if what I had just said was a joke, as if that wasn't me.
—Ari, you're not like that. I'm sure you wouldn't even touch a gun... which we do every day.
—Are you really that sure you know me?
Ian fell silent, his smile disappearing. He looked at me with a mixture of surprise.
"Are you really so sure you know me?" I repeated, more firmly, more broken, more determined.
The silence between us was brutal. The officer was still holding me, but it wasn't enough anymore. Because I wasn't the same anymore.
"Ari..." Ian whispered, and for the first time he seemed to hesitate.
I leaned a little closer to him, almost touching his face with mine, and whispered in his ear, my voice trembling but icy:
—The difference between him and me... is that he does it out of obsession. I'll do it out of hate.
I straightened up just as the officer pulled me toward the exit, but I didn't take my eyes off Ian. And he, for the first time, lowered his eyes.
As the door opened, the screams stopped.
Everyone looked at me.
My mother was crying. My father was on the verge of collapse. Jeff couldn't understand anything. Liam... Liam just looked at me, as if he already knew what I was going to do.
And then, only then, I knew it too.
There was no turning back.