Fate Rolls Dark by Mark Twain 10
10 Chapter 10
10 Chapter 10
The color drained from Chloe’s face. Ethan’s gaze flickered between us, a dawning, horrifying
comprehension in his eyes.
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Chloe burst into fresh, loud sobs. “It’s fake! She’s setting me up! She’s jealous, Ethan! She hates me!”
She clung to him, burying her face in his jacket. “Take me home, I’m so humiliated…”
Ethan looked from her shaking shoulders to my stoic, unyielding face. I saw the conflict-the old habit of comforting her warring with the
undeniable evidence.
He gently, firmly, pried her arms from around
him.
Before he could speak, I moved. I slapped him, hard, across the face. The crack echoed in the
silent room.
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“Lauren-” he stammered, hand to his cheek.
I picked up a half-full glass of merlot from a passing tray and threw it in his face. The red liquid dripped down his stunned expression onto his white shirt.
“You knew,” I said, my voice trembling not with tears, but with a final, purging fury. “You knew last year she was lying. You’ve always known. And you let her do it. You let them all think I was a
monster. You stood there and watched.”
He reached for me, his face a mess of wine and regret. “No, I didn’t, I swear-”
I stepped back, out of his reach. A single, hot tear escaped, tracing a path through my makeup. I swiped it away angrily. “The slap is returned. The debt is clear. Now get out of my sight. Both of
you.”
I turned and walked away, leaving the whispers and the stares behind me. I didn’t look back.
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That night, a storm rolled in. Rain lashed against my windows. A *crack* made me jump-a pebble hitting the glass. Then, a voice, faint over the downpour.
“Lauren! Please! I need to explain!”
I pulled back the curtain. There, in the driving rain, knelt Ethan on my parents’ manicured lawn, soaked to the bone. “I’m sorry! Just let me talk to you!”
I watched for a moment, his figure blurred by the rain on the glass. Then I let the curtain fall and called the police to report a trespasser causing a disturbance.
The sirens came. He was led away, protesting.
I heard he caught pneumonia. Was hospitalized. In his fever, he called out for me, they said.
His mother, a kind woman who had always been on my side, called my parents. She didn’t ask, she *begged*. “Just for a moment. He needs to see
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her.”
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Out of respect for her, and only for her, I went.
Chloe was the guard dog at his hospital room door. “You!” she spat. “This is your fault! He wouldn’t be here if you weren’t such a heartless
witch!”
I was about to turn and leave, a perfect excuse,
when I heard a crash from inside the room. Ethan’s voice, raw and ragged: “Lauren? Is that you? Don’t go…”
Mrs. Carter arrived then. She ignored Chloe completely, taking my arm. “Five minutes, dear. For me.” I nodded.
Inside, the room was dim. Ethan looked terrible- pale, thin, dark circles under his eyes. Mrs. Carter left, pulling a protesting Chloe out with her.
The second the door clicked shut, Chloe
wriggled free and darted back in, planting herself between me and the bed.
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“Get out!” she screeched. “He doesn’t want you here!”
I’d had enough. I swung my leather tote bag and hit her across the face with it. Once. Twice.
Three times. She shrieked, stumbling. I kicked her legs out from under her, then picked up the bowl of grapes from his bedside table and dumped
them on her head.
She lay there, stunned, then began to howl, crawling toward Ethan. “Ethan! Look what she
did!”
Ethan didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on me, huge and sorrowful.
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