The Ugly Duckling by Iris Johansen Page A

had gone from her life, Nell thought dully. She wanted him gone. He was the one who had told her about Jill.…
    She tried to block his presence from her mind; she had grown very good at that. No, he was too strong. Her uneasiness increased. She quickly closed her eyes.
    “Stop pretending. You’re not asleep,” he said coldly. “Just gutless.”
    A ripple of shock went through her.
    “Are you enjoying yourself lying there, pitying yourself?”
    He didn’t understand. She wasn’t pitying herself. She just wanted everyone to go away.
    “I’m not surprised. You’ve caved in and run away from everything all your life. You wanted to be an artist and your parents snapped their fingers and you dropped everything and came running. Your husband molded you into what he wanted and you let him do it.”
    He was talking about Richard. Cruel. Richard was dead. You didn’t talk ill of the dead.
    “Did anyone tell you how Jill died?”
    Her lids flew open. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Go away.”
    “She was stabbed.”
    The knife. Oh, God, the knife.
    “He enjoyed doing it. He always enjoys it.”
    Yes, he enjoyed it. She remembered the smile behind the mask as he had stabbed at her.
    “He’s out there, free. He took away her life, all the joy, all the things you planned for her. You let him steal that from her.”
    “No! I tried to stop him. I drew him out to the balcony and—”
    “But she’s dead and he’s free. He’s walking around remembering how he killed her. It’s so easy to kill a child.”
    “Stop it.” His words were ripping, tearing at her. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? She had not imagined anyone could be this brutal. “Why are you doing this?”
    “Because I don’t care if you’re suffering or not. She’s dead and you’re betraying her. You’re going to lie down and let this roll over you just as you’ve done everything else your entire life. She was a nice kid, she deserves better than a mother who won’t even rouse herself to wonder if the man who killed her would be punished for it.”
    “She’s dead. Nothing I could do would—”
    “Excuses, qualifications. Don’t you get sick of backing away from life? No, I guess not.” He leaned forward, his gaze boring into hers. “Here’s something to remember while you’re lying here, thinking about your daughter. She didn’t die easily. He never lets them die easily.”
    She felt something explode inside her. “
Damn
you.”
    “But I guess you don’t care about that. You’d rather go back to sleep and forget all this unpleasantness.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “Well, go ahead. You probably couldn’t do anything about it anyway. You’ve never taken an effective action in your entire life.”
    Her voice vibrated with intensity. “I hate you.”
    He looked at her without expression. “Yes, I know.”
    He left the room.
    Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched into fists. She wanted him back so that she could strike at him as he had struck at her. Cruel. She had never known anyone so cruel.
    Except the man who had killed Jill. The monster.
    He never lets them die easily
.
    The words stabbed through her with more pain than the knife that had ended Jill’s life. She had not allowed herself to think of Jill suffering, Jill dying. She had thought only of the loss, the emptiness of life.
    Life would not have been empty for Jill. She was a child who loved every facet of life. She would have run toward it with both arms opened wide.
    And she had been cheated of it by a monster who killed helpless children.
    The knowledge was twisting, hurting, burning inside her. He was out there, free, while Jill was dead.
    “No.” She wouldn’t have it. She felt as if the thought were searing away the past, the present, the future.
    You’ve never taken an effective action in your entire life
.
    Lies.
    No, truth.
    It was so easy to see the truth now that none of it mattered.
    Do what I say or I won’t love you