It’ll have to do, because it’s all I’ve got.

I did my best.

“Revenge is never sweet if it’s justified.”

– Sydney

The drive home fills me with more dread than I expected. Everything about it is lies. I just… I just can’t face it.

But I’ve been missing for weeks. On the road for days. And I need to stop running right now. I need to face facts. I need to pick myself up and figure out a plan. I need to figure out how the person I thought I was and the person I really am can come to terms.

My escape fantasy life is gone. I didn’t even mean for it to happen. I guess reality has consequences. But it’s hard. I feel so alone.

I drive down the quiet Cheyenne street in Old Town. When I get to my building, I park in the alley behind the bar, planning on sleeping in the truck before I try to figure out what to do. But if I’m going to leave and find my own way in this world, I’d like to take one more look at the only thing that ever gave me pleasure.

I get out and remember that I have no keys. The building is a hundred and twenty years old though. Not all the windows lock properly. I don’t need keys.

I climb the fire escape up to the second floor and shimmy through the office window. The sun is just coming up, so a little light seeps in when I push the curtains aside.

Looks the same as ever. My desk is a mess of bills and delivery receipts. The walls are decorated with pictures of various ribbon-winning 4-H livestock that I’ve purchased at the state fair auction over the years. Boxes of unopened liquor bottles are stacked in one corner. My coats are hanging on wall hooks near the door. There’s a nice layer of dust covering everything too. I think I love that the most. It makes me feel better that Brett didn’t come in here after I was gone. It makes me feel like he never cared about this place like I did, like it really did belong to me and only me.

That’s something, I guess. Not much, but something.

I make my way downstairs and head over to the cash register. I know it’s empty, but a girl can hope. I don’t dare take any money out of my bank account. I did, after all, just kill Brett Setton. Some precautions are in order. It makes me feel like I’m making an effort to live through this and not give up.

There’s not many windows in the bar. And the ones it does have are all high up and small. Like basement windows. But there’s enough light to see. The bar is clean and the chairs are stacked on top of the tables. Like it would look any morning. Like all that shit never happened and this is just another day.

But it’s not. It’s my last day as Sydney Channing. I don’t want to be her anymore.

I press the buttons on the cash register to make the drawer pop open and then stare down at it for a few seconds before I can come to terms with what I’m seeing.

Stacks upon stacks of twenty-dollar bills. All neatly tied together with one of those paper ribbons the bank puts on them.

“I figured you could use it.”

I turn to a dark corner where the quiet voice came from. Merc is sitting in the shadows, his face hidden until he leans forward and a beam of dim sunshine decides to give him up. He hasn’t shaved. There’s a weathered cowboy hat on the table, his arms are stretched around it, and his hands are folded out in front. He looks as tired and sad as I feel.

“I don’t need you,” I say.

“I know that.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I need you.”

I back away from him, even though he hasn’t moved and he’s all the way across the room, until I bump up against the liquor cabinet. “Get out.”

“I will,” he says, standing up but not taking a step forward. “But I deserve a chance to tell the story my way. If you want me to leave, leave knowing why I really did all those things. Not because you’ve conjured up some story in your head.”

“Oh my God.” I laugh a little. “I might not know everything, but there are a few indisputable facts that can’t be ignored about you, Merc.”

He squints his amber eyes at the name. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? That’s who you are, remember? The man you made yourself into. Own it, Merc. You’re a killer. You’re a liar. And you use girls to do your dirty work. Just like Garrett did. So stop with your holier-than-thou attitude and just own it.”

He shrugs, but looks away for a moment. Doubts, that’s what that look says. “I deserve that. But if you’ve got me on a timer, I’d like to have my say before you verbally punch me in the face and tell me to get out.”

His hands are folded in front of him now. He’s standing still and tall as he waits for my answer.

I throw my hands up. “Talk then.”

He clears his throat and lifts his chin up. Steadying himself for something.

It makes me more nervous than I’d like to admit. What will this monster tell me next? What bad news does he have to deliver now?

“I take it back, Sydney. Leaving you behind like that. I made a mistake—”

“Fuck. You.” I feel the tears well up in my eyes. “After all that shit you talked to me? You think I’m going to let you walk into my fucking bar and fill me up with more of your lies? Fuck you.”

He stands silent.

“You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You never chose me, Merc. You never put me first. You only helped me to help yourself. When I said I hated you, I meant it. My verbal fist just punched your time clock. Get the fuck out.”

He lets off a huff of air and nods. “OK.” And then he grabs his hat and walks around the table towards me. I have a moment of panic that he will both come towards me and leave for good. But he doesn’t do either. He stops about fifteen feet from me, in the middle of the room, pretty much.

“That word, though, Syd? Hush? I gave you that word the summer after I left you. I’d already started watching you. I saw some things that Garrett was doing. I didn’t know about the brainwashing. I swear I didn’t know. Not until I got you out to the cabin. That’s when I figured it out, and the whole hush thing, it was just…” He hesitates. “Fate, I think. I mean, I felt a lot of guilt about leaving you, believe it or not. But my decision to save Sasha had nothing to do with you being unworthy. I need you to know that.” He shakes his head. “You were never unworthy, I was. I never should’ve left you there. I fucked it up, Sydney. I fucked your whole life up. And I take it back. I’d do it different if I could.”

I am speechless. But I’m not sure why.

“I gave you that hush word when I saw you crying once. You weren’t even seventeen yet. Garrett left you in an apartment you shared out on Bowling Street—”

I picture that place in my head. He was there?

“—and so I felt like it might make things better for you. You know, if you could talk yourself out of being afraid—”

“It was you in my head.”

He shrugs with his hands, his knuckles white from clutching his hat. “I don’t think so, Sydney. I mean, maybe it started that way because I was messing with your mind with the hush. But I think that in your head was all you. It wasn’t me getting you through the hard times or teaching you how to survive. You knew what to do, and you came up with a coping mechanism to get you through. I didn’t try and make you love me using that word. I only wanted to ease your pain. The pain I caused by leaving you behind.”

I mull this over. But I’m still too confused. I’m so far away from figuring that shit out.

He clears his throat again. “And I don’t know what you think I was doing that last time I drugged you, but I wasn’t trying to kill you. I knew you were about to give up the answer I needed and I just didn’t want you involved when I faced Garrett. I didn’t plan on you coming out there…”