I glanced over at them a few times and exchanged sympathetic glances. They knew who I was. The lawyer of the monster who took so much from them and not just the lawyer, but the wife of that very same monster. Yet, for some reason, they were kind to me. I don’t know why. They seemed to see me as one of them, a victim, caught up in the mess left behind by the manifestation of evil on the other side of the glass. Something that just happened to all of us. This evil pit of toxic tar and sludge that we all were dropped into and couldn’t free ourselves from. Not until the beast was slain.

They hold the door open for me, and I walk in front of them down the long hallway. I hear little whispers behind me, “I’m glad this is over” and “I’m happy he’s finally paid for his crime” and “Kelly can rest in peace now.” I nearly bite a hole through my tongue to stop myself from chuckling. From turning around and laughing right in their faces.

I push open the doors to the main security area where I had to relinquish my belongings. I check out and they hand everything back to me.

I have a text from Matthew.

John and I are leaving in two hours. Can’t wait to walk you down the aisle tomorrow, and the kids are so excited to see their Aunt Sarah.

I text back,

Thanks, Matthew. Can’t wait to see you guys! Love you.

I go through the rotating glass door at the mouth of the building. Outside the sun is piercingly bright, each of its rays doing all it can to scorch everything in this world. I slide my Chanel glasses over my eyes and walk down the concrete steps.

I may have not been the most honest person. Not to Adam, not to Anne, not to Matthew, not to Sheriff Stevens, not with any of them, but I’ll be honest with myself. Timing is everything and I timed everything out perfectly.

Adam always thought he was so smart, so well-read—the deep one, the introspective one. The warrior for justice and art and everything in between. And he was all those things. He just assumed I wasn’t watching, and he was wrong.