Page 61 of About the Green

And though it feels a little bit better to not be sticky from the salt my body is eliminating at a profuse rate from my eyes, I don't even bother drying off when I get out of the shower, because my clothes will be just as wet and sticky with my tears when I get out.

But I had to get the makeup off, had to get all of the product out of my hair, so I could at least cry comfortably.

As comfortable as it could be to find out that you are the very same hollow-eyed, fractured girl that was never good enough before.

No matter how high your kill count is, no matter how many men you've shown you're better than, there's always one.

There's always one.

And that one...

I hope he has life insurance.

Chapter 23

Another missed call.

Another ignored text.

Ever since that meeting, I’ve been trying to get in contact with Nina and it’s been damn near impossible. I’m a patient man but I can’t stand to be ignored like this. Not when I’m still worried about her state.

At no point get I get any resolution on what is motivating Nina to kill these men. I hadn’t even gotten answers about what happened when she called me last weekend.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out though.

With there being so much on the line in this time as the now, three families, work through their tentative agreement, I don’t want to risk anything. If there was a time to have an eye on Nina, it’s now.

I couldn’t say if we’re in danger or not since I don’t know what exactly it is that sets her off.

She told me about a man that she thought she loved but never picked her. The origin of her pain, her cutting.

That’s the pain she inflicts on herself. But the pain that she inflicts on others?

It’s still a mystery.

If she’s ignoring me, then how can I get any closer to that answer?

Without her on my hands, I look through my folder with everything in it to try and piece one together. It’s not very good. The only thing that sticks out to me is her view of them being disgusting.

But why?

She doesn’t call every man disgusting.

I pop open a beer and sit in my chair, trying to think about any other than how I had her on this desk. On how beautifully she submitted to me right here. On how hopeful I was that we had turned a new leaf. That she was opening up to me.

Every time I think I’m getting close, she’s farther away.

What more can I do to catch this woman?

If I end up back in Louisiana and she’s not coming, I’m unsure how I’ll react.

I’m a patient man.

But I won’t wait forever for her to get the picture. She’s not getting more distance than this.

Something about the way she’s described the men I know she’s murdered stands out.

Creep.