Chapter 7: Edges and Echoes

I barely escaped.

I ran till my lungs burned, ducking through backyards and vaulting a chain-link fence. My hands were scraped raw, but I made it out alive.

Outside the alley, I saw that familiar car—and that familiar figure.

The black Audi was parked under a streetlamp, headlights off. Jason leaned against the hood, a picture of patience and power.

Jason leaned against the car, watching the alley entrance, as if waiting for the prey to stumble into his trap, to crawl and kneel before him like I did when we were kids.

His eyes tracked me as I staggered into the light, wild and desperate. I could feel him sizing me up, waiting for me to break.

I shoved the knife into his hand, voice shaking: "Go on, finish what you started. I dare you."

My hands shook. The blade felt cold, heavier than I’d imagined. I was past caring about consequences.

"Don’t you want me gone? Go on—stab me right here."

The words came out raw, cracked from crying. I didn’t recognize my own voice.

I’d lost my mind.

Something inside me had snapped. All the humiliation, the years of fear, my mom’s mess—I couldn’t carry it anymore.

I was being driven crazy by the mess my mom had left behind.

Her legacy was chaos and shame. I couldn’t tell if I hated her more, or hated myself for still caring.

My mom drove the original wife to her death—she deserved her fate.

Even if the rumors were true, I knew one thing: I’d never be free of her shadow.

But what about me? What did I do wrong?

My voice broke on the question, because I still didn’t know.

Jason’s eyes were so dark they were frightening. He flung my hand away, the knife clattering to the ground.

The sound echoed in the empty street. I waited for him to lash out, but instead, he just looked disgusted.

"Megan, don’t dirty my hands."

He said it like I was nothing. For a second, I thought I’d disappear right there on the sidewalk.