Epilogue
Henderson
I stare at my computer screen, clicking from one glossy picture to another, my throat burning and my hand shaking with nauseating rage.
They look beautiful, both young and healthy, dressed in the best wedding finery blood-stained wealth can buy. In one picture, he’s lifting her against his chest; in another, they’re holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.
I click again and taste the bitterness of bile. They’re smiling at each other in this picture, standing next to her family and friends.
Do any of these people know?
Do they realize what he is?
She knows. Of that I have no doubt. I see it in her eyes, her pretty, lying smile.
She knows, and she loves him.
She married him, knowing the monstrous things he’s done.
I roll my head from side to side, fut
