Page 91 of Wallflower

“I think the correct term was ‘slimy conniving cunt’.”

Oh, well that’s even more embarrassing than sobbing and snotting all over his muscular chest. Did he witness my meltdown, or just hear it through the door?

“What I’m more interested in is the ‘choke on your own blood’ part. How exactly would you do it?”

“U-uhh…”

“Come on, flower. Humour me.”

“With the imagined death of my step-monster?”

“Sure. And any others you’d like to off as well.”

“Well, aren’t you morbid.”

“Just want to see you smile. If the thought of death felling the people who put you here does it, then sure, I’m morbid.”

Well, now he’s being fucking adorable. Can I really tell him this? Show him the side of me that likes to poison just enough to cause a reaction I can witness from a distance? Is it beyond fucked up how I like to watch their suffering but not kill them? If only so I can do it again and again as they continue to wrong me.

“I told you I’d kill anyone here for touching you, let me into your little murder fantasy.”

Killing to protect your investment and bargain with a crime lord is vastly different than deriving some sort of sick gratification from making people ill.But, I suppose if someone claims to like a malicious streak, it wouldn’t hurt to share a thought I’ve had a time or two…or a hundred.

“For you to understand my fantasy, you need to know my family.”

Rip puts on a more serious face, a coldness seeping into my bones at the change. “I’ve got time.”

The stupid butterfly in my gut starts flapping its wings because he wants to hear what I have to say, needs to understand the root of my emotions. I don’t think I’ve experienced that from anyone but my sister. The resonating thought leaves me feeling hollow. I’ve been so alone, desperate for connection, and achingly lonely that this small scrap of interest makes me overjoyed.

“Okay,” I reply.

The seconds unfold as I fill Rip in, telling him about each member of myfamily,spilling the secrets of the shitty way they treated me—belittled me. Eventually, I relay the same story I shared with Sam. The one where Chelsea thinks Michelle murdered our mother. I never truly believed her, but now, I don’t see how itcan’tbe true. Someone doesn’t just wake up one day and decide to execute a plan like this. Michelle’s darkness has been brewing, growing, and finessing this plan for who knows how long, and it nauseates me to know Tyler and Liam could be in on it too. The chance of getting up my sister’s skirt with no resistance would be enough to sway Liam. I swear if he’s been here and touched her, I’ll break every one of his weirdly long fingers.

I catch Ripley up on everything that’s happened since I stepped foot on that cruise liner, leaving out the unnecessary parts where Sam is concerned.

Time ticks by as he listens to me, never so much as interrupting. He seems content to lie here, storing away all my rambling for a later date.

But why?

Surely this can’t be what he’s interested in? He’s come here for release. To do whatever he desires to me without objection. But the only traces of annoyance I witness from him are the twitches in his stoic face when I dance around the shit I’ve put up with at the hands of the family my father let into our life.

The more I confess, the more embarrassment threatens to drown me. How did I withstand this? When you tally everything up, I’m astounded I’ve survived as long as I have. No wonder I’m a fucked up wallflower. A meek little thing with no voice. A silent poisoner. I don’t have a backbone to fight for myself because of a fear of retaliation, so I do it in secret. Slinking through the shadows and infecting their food with the same plant they burden my name with.

Wallflower.

Without realizing it, I’ve stopped talking. Rip lets me adjust to all I’ve divulged.

“I should really stop,” I mumble. “You don’t want to hear all of this.” My fingers weave together, knotting with nervous energy.

Leaning in, Rip brushes the hair back from my face, curling it behind my ear. “If you don’t tell me how you wish to end her, flower, I will find her and do it myself.”

A smile splits across my face. “Really?”

He’s silent for a moment, taking in the way my entire demeanour has changed. I never went through with my plans for Michelle because I didn’t want to be the reason for my father’s grief, and was unsure if I could live with myself taking a life. It’s why I’ve never administered a lethal dose, and why I idiotically saved Brad from being eaten by sharks.

But the thought of drawing Michelle’s demise out over days as I played doctor to her ailing body has never left me. I’ve finessed it, molded it, perfected the plan. Probably much in the same way she did to eliminate Chelsea and I from her life.

“Yes, Rose. I’d do it if you couldn’t. What’s one more notch on my belt? At least this one would be totally worth it.”