CHAPTER 8
4 days before Ari's birthday
This is not love.
??
I have been so close to her… that I can still remember the exact scent of her perfume.
That soft trace she leaves behind when she walks past. I still have the inevitable dimples burned into my mind, the ones that appear every time she smiles, her wet hair after showering, her clean face… so natural, so perfect.
I am hypnotized by the way she moves, by how she acts without realizing that everyone—everyone—seems to want to stay by her side. As if something about her won't let them go. As if they knew, without knowing, that she is special. Mine.
And yet, she twists me from the inside… makes anger rise like a slow-burning fire every time I see her look at someone else. What right does she have to look at anyone else? What would they think if they knew that soon that person won't be there anymore? That they will disappear, right before her eyes. I want to see it… I want to see her reaction when there is no one left.
It excites me to see her try to resist with that wall she builds to protect herself… one I already know how to break through.
She has always been beaten by life, again and again. But I am here. I will save her. Because she needs me more than anyone else. She must look only at me. So defenseless, so fragile… so broken, that no one has the right to hurt her. No one—except me.
And if someone dares… if someone hurts her before I can complete her, rebuild her… then I will make them disappear.
I will wipe away her tears. We will clean her blood. We will clean her life… of everyone who gets in my way.
Only then will she be mine. Completely mine.
I know everything about her.
She always wakes up at 6:42 a.m., even though her alarm goes off at 6:45. She hates the sound, so she gets up before it.
The first thing she does is open the curtains in her room, the one on the left window—the one that never closes properly.
She barely eats breakfast: half a banana and coffee, with two spoonfuls of sugar and skim milk.
On Fridays she sometimes adds a piece of toast with strawberry jam, but only if she slept well. I know because she doesn't do it when she has those small dark circles she tries to cover with the concealer she keeps in the second bathroom drawer, next to the makeup wipes and the painkiller she takes during her cycle.
She always walks on the same sidewalk toward the bus stop to wait for Jeff to pick her up. Her favorite seat is the one in the back, by the window, where she can look outside pretending the world doesn't exist.
She has a friend she talks to too much named Camila, and lately she hasn't stopped hanging out with a new girl, "Ámbar." I've seen the messages she doesn't reply to, the calls she ignores. She doesn't need them.
She arrives at the library at 8:06. Always greets with that smile. Always says "good morning" with a voice that feels like it belongs to another world.
And no one, absolutely no one, notices how that smile changes when she's alone. How her face breaks the moment she looks at herself in the mirror.
She doesn't know that I follow her home. That I've already been inside. That I know the exact sound her bedroom door makes when it opens at night.
That I've been less than two meters from her bed while she slept. That I know by heart the pattern of moles on her back.
That I've watched her cry in silence, hugging that stupid gray pillow with pink edges.
I know which songs she plays over and over when she's sad. Track number three on her "Winter" playlist, the one that says no one stays.
I know she keeps her parents' letters in the blue box on top of the closet, and that she still doesn't dare read the last one. From her real parents.
I watch how she looks at the photo album from when she was little, the one she keeps next to pictures of her best friend and her friends.
But I know she lingers especially on the photos where he appears… Liam. I stopped myself from deleting him, I thought he wouldn't be a problem, but it seems she hasn't forgotten him.
And now, that they message each other from time to time, I notice her interest every time he replies.
I have to do it.
There is no way out anymore.
And the best part is that she still doesn't know what's coming. She doesn't know how close I am.
That I have been in every corner of her world. That every time she smiles at someone else… she's only provoking me.
I know she provokes me with every single thing she does.
She got it.
There isn't much time left. Soon, everything else will stop mattering.
It will be just her and me.
And no one will be able to stand in the way.
[…]
ARI
It can't be.
It can't be.
It can't be.
It's not him, it's not. I know it.
Ian wasn't even supposed to be close to me, and yet he ended up dragged into this situation.
That idiot.
Jeff didn't hold back. The moment he saw it was Ian, he hit him, but my father stepped in.
He reminded him of the consequences if people found out. Both my mother and my father promised to fix the situation and left out the part where Jeff lost control.
They wanted to keep Jeff out of trouble with his family. Because they would be going back to the police station for him.
"Take the pill," my mother offered while pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt to cover my head; it was freezing in the station compared to outside.
I swallowed it and took a sip of water, staring through the glass next to Jeff. On the other side were his parents, and my father was glaring furiously at Ian, who remained seated, handcuffed, already conscious, watching the cameras around him.
Jeff hadn't spoken to me since then. He wasn't angry… he was fighting on his own.
When you trust someone so deeply and then they show you the complete opposite…
"When will the detective arrive? Did they tell him I was here?" Jeff's father asked in his deep, mature voice.
Beside him, Mrs. Lily seemed to try to get closer to Jeff, but couldn't.
"Don't be impatient, Henry. We have to wait for our children. At least they're okay," my father replied, trying to ease the tension in the room.
"I don't understand how you got yourself into this mess, Jeff. Can't you stay away from trouble? At this rate, I'll have to send you away," his father complained, but Jeff completely ignored him.
I didn't.
And what he said scared me. Send you away. I didn't like that… especially 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 to shut up, but I didn't.
"I'm sorry for getting Jeff into trouble. He only 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 stalking you?" Jeff's father 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."
Mrs. Lily then approached Jeff.
"Son, why didn't you tell us anything?" she asked, and when she tried to touch him, Jeff gently pulled away.
"I don't want them to separate me from her," Jeff replied, and his father let out a heavy sigh.
Mr. Henry looked at my father, who stood beside me.
"Why didn't you tell us anything, Gabriel?" he asked, irritated.
"I assumed your son would tell you, but I see now that he didn't. I was more focused on keeping Ari safe. We couldn't sleep from the fear that something might happen to her. And the police… they don't have much progress," my father answered. Henry nodded, understanding that maybe the last thing on his mind had been to talk to them. "I was also worried about Jeff, but I didn't think it would go as far as hiding something this serious from you."
We felt our parents' eyes on us. I avoided looking at Jeff, who seemed indifferent to what was being said.
I never asked what his parents thought about the situation, but I didn't, so I wouldn't make him uncomfortable.
"Jeff," Mr. Henry called, without an answer.
"Son," he insisted, no longer 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 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 García.
He was accompanied by a younger agent I remembered seeing at the hospital when we spoke with García.
"Good evening. We apologize for making you wait so long," Officer García greeted in his usual formal tone. "I'm sorry to see you under these circumstances, Mr. Henry."
"Everything for 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, you told us it was a fight at a party. But now I know it wasn't that."
"Well, I spoke with them at the hospital, and then they went to the station with my colleagues. I wasn't present after the statement, nor when they picked up your children," Officer García replied, also looking at my parents. "I don't understand what motivated you 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 talk… I didn't raise you like this," his mother scolded him, hurt.
"What?" Jeff replied coldly. "It's not hard to convince them… you just need some 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.
My eyes widened in shock.
"Ten thousand?!" I repeated at the same time as his father, though his tone was much stronger. "Just to shut them up? Son, I need to teach you how to negotiate."
The detective's expression was almost comical: he didn't know whether to laugh or worry.
Jeff's father almost made it sound like paying to silence someone was normal.
"Gentlemen," García intervened firmly. "Leave that for later. I suggest you focus now, because we're going to watch the interrogation of Ian, the young man who appears to be your children's stalker."
"I'd like to introduce Detective Johnson. He's coming from London to investigate Ari's case and the drugs involved," García added.
"London?" I asked, confused. I didn't understand why someone from abroad would come to Mexico.
"Yes, miss," 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 to investigate this case thoroughly."
"And why would you be interested in my daughter's case?" my father asked. I focused completely on the answer.
"Well… information reached me about disappearances of girls who were harmed and drugged. They may not have died in the same way, but there was something similar in the method: suffering. All of them were teenagers. And although we're in a country where disappearances are frequent, I realized they chose to do it here because they knew no one would investigate deeply. That it would be just one more… one more statistic."
Officer García had already told me about other girls who went through the same thing as me.
But when I tried to ask him more, he only told me the information was confidential out of respect for the victims.
Without names, there wasn't much I could look up. The news only gave general information, nothing that allowed the cases to be connected.
"Was it also here in Nuevo León?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"My understanding is that there have been approximately five girls, and all of them disappeared in Mexico City, though on different dates. The first was…" he paused and pulled out a sheet he began to read. "The first victim: Ximena Martínez, 18 years old, a second-semester university student. She was found dead three months after being reported missing. Hanna Miranda, 15 years old, was in her final year of middle school and was found dead in her school bathroom approximately two months ago."
"Two months ago weren't we on vacation?" I asked, and looked at Jeff, who only nodded.
"I suppose Ian went to Mexico City around that time and met her. Then…" He didn't finish the sentence. I placed my hand on his shoulder to calm him, and his father stepped closer.
"I'm fine, Dad," 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 affirmed. "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 intervened, answering for me.
"I know who the culprit is," I said, a chill running through my body just thinking about him. "I know who is stalking me."
"What? You know?" Officer García asked, surprised.
"I know… because he belongs to the family that murdered my parents. My biological parents."
"What the hell?" Jeff exclaimed, shaken.
The door to the room opened, and Ámbar and Camila walked in, accompanied by their parents.
"We'll talk later," the detective said. I felt my mother rest her head against mine.
"Did you really see those people's faces? You were little…" she whispered, only to me.
"I've never been able to forget it."
I still remember Ariana's face, my biological mother, with tears in her eyes.
Dragging herself toward me to protect me after they pulled us out of the car, just before the explosion. She begged them to let my father and me go. They shot her without mercy.
"My daughter, forgive me…" I heard her voice in my head, and I jolted away. Everyone was staring at me.
"We must begin the interrogation. Thank you for accompanying your children; right now they need their parents. It's necessary to keep them safe," García said.
Ámbar's parents approached mine and Jeff's to greet them, while Ámbar stood beside me and touched my shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked gently.
I nodded, holding back the knot in my throat.
"I understand if you don't want to talk," she added.
I lowered my gaze. 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 feel I was the most affected. She tilted her head, eyes glassy, and gave me a small smile. Her presence was enough.
Jeff stood on my other side. He took my hand just as the detective entered the room with Ian.
Ian 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 across from him.
"You made me come all the way here," the detective replied.
Ian laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"No, don't misunderstand me. I'm flattered that you traveled from your country with all its luxuries to a place so different like this," Ian replied, lightly scratching the table with his fingers.
Why did he seem to know the detective?
"Why did you come to Mexico?" the detective asked Ian, which confused me even more. "Did you need to sell more drugs?"
I looked at Jeff, who looked 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 fully aware of everything he was doing.
I took a deep breath. This was going to be hard. Everyone was going to come out hurt. Ámbar, 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 in front of him as if he were a stranger. No… as if he were a monster.
"I don't even know why you ask if you already know the answer," Ian said calmly.
The detective stared at him seriously, unflinching.
"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, pulling papers from his jacket. He showed him a sheet. "Do you know her?"
I leaned forward slightly, as if my body needed to brace itself for what was coming.
Ian leaned in to look at the photo. Then he leaned back completely relaxed 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 chill ran down my arms.
How can he talk like that? How can he say their names as if they were lost objects and not people?
"Were you involved with them?" the detective asked.
Ian made a sound somewhere between disdain and mockery, followed by a light laugh. I felt my stomach tighten.
Is he mocking this?
Can he really laugh after what he did?
"Not with all of them," he replied dismissively. "Only with Hanna and Ximena. They were very close sisters. That made it more… annoying. Especially Hanna. She complicated everything."
His hand made a sharp sound as it scraped the table's surface. He was no longer holding back.
He leaned toward the detective and gestured for him to come closer.
"She found out… but she didn't have to open her mouth. They're always like that, women, don't you think? 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.
"Damn idiot!" Jeff's father shouted.
"My God… she was only fifteen," my mother whispered, covering her face.
I couldn't speak. I only felt a knot in my throat.
A mix of rage, sadness, and a hopelessness I didn't know how to contain.
"Was your original target Ximena?" the detective asked.
"My target?" Ian let out a sigh. His voice shifted slightly, but I noticed. "She wasn't my target…"
Was that pain in his voice?
Remorse? Or just acting?
"Then why did you kill her?"
"I didn't want to… 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 already know… they took advantage of them. After that, obviously, they asked us to take care of them. She asked me if she would be one of those… and I told her no."
"You weren't planning to hand her over?"
"How could I? I… loved her."
Love? Is that love?
No. That is not love.
That is selfishness. Love is not destroying someone so others won't.
"But you ended up killing her," the detective said bluntly.
"It was… for the best."
"For the best? You didn't just kill Ximena. You also killed her sister. 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 it would just be another victim. But no. I really wanted something with her."
"Were you in love with Ximena?"
The air in the room grew heavier. Ian closed his eyes, breathed, and finally said:
"Yes. I loved her."
How cruel it is when someone makes you believe that killing is caring.
"But it's all over now," 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. 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."
"Me," the detective said. Ian leaned back in his chair.
"You say you protected them… that you did it for them. But both of them suffered. Until the very last second. Because of you," the detective continued.
Ian shook his head several times.
He wanted not to believe it. He wanted to convince himself of another story. But he couldn't.
"I loved Ximena… but I couldn't hand her over. When they realized I was opposing them, they gave me two options. Either I handed her over and, if I wanted, let her live. Or I killed her so she wouldn't go through experiences where she would suffer."
"I can see that you're in pain… but you didn't just lose someone you claimed to love. You killed a fifteen-year-old girl. You allowed more girls to die. Not just die: to suffer in the process."
"I only cared about Ximena."
"And just as you only thought about her, there were people who only thought about them. They also wanted to see them again. They cried for them. And you took away their chance to be free."
"This life was given to me. If I want to stay alive, I have to do all of that."
This life was given to you? And the lives you touched?
"And didn't it hurt to lie to those who thought you were their friend? You also tried to hurt them…"
"I didn't want to get involved. But he… he was going through the same thing I did. Like with Ximena. Although… it wasn't the same kind of love."
"Who is 'he'?"
"If I told you, I'd be doing your job for you. Besides… he's like my brother. I won't betray him."
The detective frowned.
"Did you meet Ari?"
My heart stopped for a second.
It was the first time the detective mentioned me, and Ian nodded.
"Yes."
"Were you friends?"
"Not for long," Ian replied with a shrug, "but I realized that everything he told me about her was real."
"What did he tell you?"
"Everything. How he planned to have her only for himself. How he intended to push everyone away from her. How he would make her fall in love until she completely gave in. He knows her from head to toe: what she likes, what she doesn't, her schedule… He's sick over her. Even if he says he feels the same way I did about Ximena, it's not the same. He loves the suffering he causes her. It's different. Dark."
"Don't you think that'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 responsible for what happened to her biological parents, but because he no longer reasoned. He was obsessed. He believes she and he are destined to be together."
"When did he start talking about her?"
"Before. He knew she existed. He knew her story, but at that point he wasn't interested. Until we moved permanently to the state to start selling drugs and fulfill what they demanded from abroad. One day, he told me he had seen her. That she made him curious."
"And what changed then?"
"He got close to her… and realized she belonged to the same family his father had killed years ago."
So from the beginning he knew who she was. It was his plan.
"How did he contact her?"
"He wasn't always like this… I think everything we carried was affecting him mentally. We live with dirty hands. He started investigating her online. He found out she had a boyfriend at her school. He saw that they seemed happy… and it enraged him. He threw the laptop to 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, assignments. But he didn't listen. He never does."
"That's when he became too obsessed," the detective said gravely.
"He forced me to get close. While he tried to 'make her fall in love.'"
"He tried to make her fall in love?"
"He said she would fall. That she was emotionally weak. That after what he did to Liam, she would look for comfort. That it was his chance to show himself as someone different."
The door burst open, interrupting the conversation. It was Liam.
His presence snapped me out of it. My head hurt… not just from the interrogation, but from everything I was hearing.
The pieces were starting to fit… but I didn't want them to.
Liam looked at me with concern. Then he turned when he saw Ian behind the glass.
"What did he do to Liam?"
"He drugged him. At first he said his infatuation with Ari wouldn't work, but then he realized she would never leave Liam because she truly loved him. And then he made the mistake. He knew doctors would notice it wasn't a known drug."
"But he didn't stop. He started drugging Liam with dangerous doses. And I… I stepped aside."
"Did you ever think about stopping him?"
"Me? And with what help? He was completely blind from 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?"
"A little. I only saw him sometimes with Ari before the drugs kept him away. But I know she didn't abandon him, despite everything."
"You say that because Ari stayed even when Liam hit her."
Liam raised his hand. He touched the glass. Then he lowered it and dropped his head, as if he believed we were all judging him.
"Liam? Hit her?" Ian laughed as if it were absurd. "Liam never touched her."
I froze. I was about to walk over to Liam, to take his hand, to hug him… but I stopped cold when I heard that.
What is he saying?
Why did he say that?
"Then how do you explain what Ari felt? How she saw and felt the blows?" the detective asked.
"How do you think? She was drugged too. My dear friend… made her see Liam during the attacks. He manipulated her hallucinations. He made her see him. He was the one who hit her, not Liam. But in her mind… it was different."
My legs gave out. My body swayed. Dizziness ran through me from head to toe.
I was drugged too… I was too…
Now I understood why his face never made sense in my mind.
Why everything felt like a nightmare.
Because… it was.
I fell like all the others.
"What did that idiot do? What did Ian do to my daughter?" my father shouted, making everyone turn to him.
Even the detective looked toward the glass, though he clearly couldn't see us. Ian also turned and was shocked to realize we were listening.
I turned away from the glass, stepped back, and leaned against the wall, covering my ears so I wouldn't hear my father arguing, wishing to leave the room and run to Ian to confront him.
My mother came to me.
"Calm down, Ari… calm down," she said, as my entire body trembled.
Now I understood the dreams, how everything stayed in my mind without me being able to control it.
I saw Liam's gaze on me, and he slowly came closer. My mother looked at him, then at me.
"Do you need him right now?"
I barely heard her, my hands still over my ears. The voices in the background kept echoing, while Jeff's father tried to calm mine and the officer blocked the door to keep him from leaving.
Ámbar and Camila watched me from a corner with their parents, who told them not to approach when they saw how shaken I was.
Jeff watched me while talking to his mother, who was crying uncontrollably over the situation.
"Do you need him right now? Isn't that it?" my mother repeated. I looked at her, eyes full of tears, then at Liam.
I covered my mouth. I couldn't even answer.
She stepped away to go to my father, knowing only she could calm him.
"Ari," Liam said, raising his hands to mine, still covering my ears, gently lowering them.
Then he held my face, and I couldn't control it anymore—my tears began to fall.
But I couldn't breathe. What I was feeling wasn't the sadness they were seeing.
I needed to calm down. I was about to faint.
"I'm sorry," he said, leaning in to hug me.
I broke down, resting against him, as if everything was finally coming out.
The sobs were strong, 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 tears, and he hugged me tighter. "I know you weren't bad."
"I didn't even believe it myself, Ari. He manipulated us," Liam replied. "He tried to separate us, 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 must control yourself. I know it's about your daughter, but you need to be strong," he said, then looked at me, noticing how Liam tried to protect me. "Especially you. That boy seems to be a fairly experienced killer despite his age."
"Did he say his name?" my father asked.
The detective shook his head.
"He won't say it today, but there will be more interrogations. However, what he said at the end let us see that the drug you consumed," he said, looking at Liam and me, "was administered in different ways: oral and nasal. But mainly nasal. According to what he said, the person responsible has experience in its creation, so much so that he can also turn it into gas and release it into the air. That's what happened in Liam's apartment. All of the hallucinations and the young lady's attacks happened there. It was logical that authorities thought Liam was guilty. That was the plan: that there would be no doubt he was doing it, even though it wasn't true. Additionally, the drug in Ari caused visions of Liam. Everything happened exactly as he planned."
I looked at the glass, where Ian still sat, looking around calmly.
"How did he make me see Liam and not him?" I asked.
"According to Ian, at that time you were deeply in love with Liam, and the drug amplified people's greatest fears. Yours seemed to be losing him. Your mind showed you the boy you loved as something terrifying, someone who would break your illusion of true love. And even if nothing happened to Liam, what Ian said is that you wouldn't be able to endure losing him, because it would be like reliving what happened with your parents."
I clenched my fists, full of rage. I looked at Ian again. Despite everything, he never tried to stop him from hurting me.
"He was our friend," Jeff said. "How can he say all of that?"
"Young man," the detective replied seriously, "just because you considered him a friend doesn't mean he felt the same."
It was like a bucket of cold water for all of us.
I slowly stepped away from Liam without drawing suspicion. They thought I was going toward my father.
"Daughter?" my father asked.
But without warning, I ran toward the door, now unguarded because Officer García was no longer there.
I ran into the room, closed the door behind me, and turned to look directly at Ian. I took a deep breath.
"Open the door!" the detective shouted from the other side.
"Daughter, please!" my father said, along with my mother.
"Ari, come back, it's dangerous," I heard Liam.
"I'll talk to him and then I'll come out," I shouted so they could hear me.
"Don't do anything stupid!" Jeff yelled. "Open the door!"
I turned to Ian, who watched me attentively, without surprise.
"Hello, Ari," he said.
I sat across from him at the table.
"Why?" I asked. "Why did you do it?"
I knew he could see my tearful eyes, that he knew I wanted to cry.
"Ari… I didn'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 what about us? Jeff? Weren't we your friends too? How can you be so hypocritical and say you can't do anything? You did nothing because you didn't want to!"
"But it wasn't personal. I told him it wasn't love."
"Of course it's not love! He knows nothing about love! He's just hurting me and saying he loves me!"
"He only wanted what you had with Liam, and when he couldn't get it, he did all this."
"Did he ask you to hurt Jeff?"
"He thought he was an obstacle. He believed you were getting over Liam and falling in love with Jeff."
I stood up furiously, moved closer to him, and he leaned back, surprised.
"He ruined my life. Every good thing in it, he destroyed: my relationship, my friends, my family. I pushed everyone away when Liam was arrested. No one understood anything. And now you're telling me all of this was… because of an obsession?"
"Ari, he's very sick. He has no remorse for what he does."
"Do you think I don't know that? I'm living it!"
"I'm sorry…"
"No! A 'sorry' doesn't fix anything!" I screamed. I felt someone grab me from behind to pull me out of the room.
"Miss, you must leave. You're not authorized," Officer García said.
"Tell me why he did it! Why does he make me suffer like this? What did I do to deserve it?!"
"Ari… he will never change," Ian said.
That made me lean closer, but the arms holding me tightened.
"And to think that you too, Ian… you looked just as innocent as Dylan."
"How do you know…?" he asked, eyes wide. "How did you find out?"
"Did you really think I was stupid enough not to know? The only reason I didn't say anything was because I wanted him to suffer… like he made me suffer."
"Since when did you know?" he asked, incredulous. "Ari, he's not just anyone. You can't stop him alone."
"And who said I will?"
Ian began to laugh, as if what I said were a joke, as if that wasn't me.
"Ari, you're not like this. I'm sure you wouldn't even touch a weapon… something we use every day."
"Are you really that sure you know me?"
Ian fell silent, his smile fading. He looked at me with surprise.
"Are you really that sure you know me?" I repeated, firmer, more decided.
The silence between us was brutal. The officer still held me, but it was no longer enough.
"Ari…" Ian whispered, and for the first time, he seemed to doubt.
I leaned in a little more, almost brushing my face against his, and whispered in his ear, my voice trembling but cold:
"The difference between him and me… is that he does it out of obsession. I will do it out of hate."
I straightened 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 gaze.
When the door opened, the shouting stopped.
Everyone looked at me.
My mother was crying. My father was on the verge of collapsing. Jeff didn't understand anything. Liam… Liam only 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.