Chapter 3

I watched, stunned, as she came running toward me.

Her skin was flawless.

Long straight black hair, a cream-colored knit sweater.

She didn't look like a woman in her mid-twenties.

If anything, she looked as young as she had in high school.

"Look... I came to find you because I want to apologize."

She gripped the strap of her Hermès bag tightly.

"I heard about what happened yesterday.

"I'm so sorry! I was young back then, I didn't know any better."

I heard my own voice shaking.

"Is 'I didn't know any better' supposed to cover it?"

"Then... then what will it take for you to forgive me? Should I get down on my knees?"

And with that she really did drop, a heavy thud as her knees hit the floor.

People passing by kept turning to look.

"Margie, I really do know I was wrong!

"I've regretted it all these years too. All the time I've been with Dom, I've felt awful for you.

"It's been ten years now.

"Just let it go. Let's all live our lives properly, all right?"

Here it was again.

The ones who did the hurting always seemed to think.

That time dilutes the pain, right down to the point where one apology earns forgiveness.

"No."

My fist trembled faintly.

"Margie..."

Her eyes went red.

"Do you really have to keep dragging up the past?

"We've both started families. Dom and I even have a child. Do you really have to cling to all that old business and refuse to let it go, and make everyone miserable?"

"Seraphina Joyce."

I said through gritted teeth, "You'd better leave right now. Otherwise I don't know what I might do to you here."

Then I turned and walked fast toward the psychiatric department.

"Margery Swanson!"

Seraphina shouted.

The next second.

Someone yanked hard on my arm.

I stumbled two steps and barely caught my balance.

But Seraphina let out a sharp cry.

And fell hard to the floor.

"Sera!"

Dominic's voice rang out.

I saw him rush over and pull Seraphina tight into his arms.

Crack. A hand struck my face hard.

I turned my head.

Gloria stood there, out of breath.

Eyes red, pointing at me.

"How can you be this vicious! Sera's only just gotten pregnant, the pregnancy still isn't stable, and you couldn't even wait, chasing her into the hospital to kill both her and her unborn child!"

It hit me like lightning.

"She's pregnant?!"

"What are you pretending for?"

Dominic looked at me coldly.

"You came chasing her to the hospital because you found out, didn't you?"

I couldn't say a word.

Gloria gave a cold laugh.

"Well, look at that. I kept it hidden so tightly, terrified you'd go mad, and you still found out."

"You think I wouldn't have gone mad if you'd never told me!"

I finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom! I'm your daughter! Why does even you have to treat me like this!"

"Margie!"

Against all expectation.

It was Seraphina who rushed forward.

Blocking my mother.

"Margie, I'm the one who wronged you back then. If you have to hate someone, hate me.

"I've already taken Mama Simmons as my godmother. I can't stand by and watch you raise a hand against your mother."

"Godmother?"

My voice trembled.

Gloria looked at me coldly.

And had no intention of explaining.

"Mom, tell me exactly what... ah!"

I was shoved hard.

Dominic stood over me as I sat sprawled on the floor.

One hand shielding Seraphina.

The scene was too glaring to miss.

I heard the voices of the people around me.

"So that's Mr. Mason's crazy wife? How far gone does someone have to be to make a scene right in the hospital lobby."

"Hair all over the place. She really doesn't give off the same feeling as Miss Joyce."

"No wonder Mr. Mason doesn't want her anymore. I couldn't stand a madwoman tormenting herself day after day either."

"Poor Mr. Mason. He doesn't even love her anymore, but he keeps the marriage going so he won't set her off, so she won't lose her mind."

"When you put it that way, the mother's pitiful too. A daughter this out of line."

"..."

"No... stop, don't say any more..."

I backed away, shaking.

Those words seemed to take on physical form.

Stabbing into me until my whole body ached, breath by breath.

I'd relapsed again.

"No... don't..."

I clutched my head.

A hand closed around my wrist.

I heard the voice of my therapist, Brent Finch.

"Deep breaths. Come with me."