“Good-bye,” she said, and stood, headed for the stairs. Upstairs, the toilet flushed and they heard the sink running.
“Wait!” he said, running after her. She had her hand on the doorknob.
“No,” she said. She was crying now. “I won’t stay. I won’t be trapped again. Better to be with him than trapped—”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “If you still want me to do it in two days, I’ll do it.”
She looked gravely at him. “Don’t you lie to me about this,” she said. “Don’t you dare be lying.”
He took her hands. “I swear,” he said.
From the top of the stairs then, “Whups,” said Billy. “I think I’ll just tuck myself into bed.”
Mimi smiled and hugged Alan fiercely.
Trey’s ardor came out with his drunkenness. First a clammy arm around her shoulder, then a casual grope at her boob, then a sloppy kiss on the corner of her mouth. That was as far as she was going to let it go. She waited for him to move in for another kiss, then slipped out from under his arm so that he fell into the roots of the big tree they’d been leaning against. She brained him with the vodka bottle before he’d had a chance to recover, then, as he rocked and moaned, she calmly took the hunting knife she’d bought at the Yonge Street survivalist store out of her bag. She prized one of his hands off his clutched head and turned it over, then swiftly drew the blade across his palm, laying it open to the muscle.
She hadn’t been sure that she’d be capable of doing that, but it was easier than she’d thought. She had nothing to worry about. She was capable of that and more.