I really do love him.

Again, I’m here, looking over my work: that warped world where I made Scott the villain. It was good to immerse myself in the fever dream of this other Scott. He’s the one who did all those terrible things; he deserves it every time, as though my most intense moments of anger become my entire judgement of him.

It’s how I felt, writing those passages; often I was in, I don’t know what you’d call it, a frenzy. I couldn’t stop and I was so amped-up, wanting to believe it.

There’s nothing normal in this life I’ve lived, the choices I’ve made.

But I do love him. That’s the hardest part. It’s just like there’s this switch, and he hits it, and I just flood with… And that’s the worst thought, the one which comes naturally, birthed from childhood. With Satan, with the devil, Lucifer whelming inside my soul, until there’s nothing else left.

I don’t believe it, not intellectually, not emotionally. Not physically or anything else. But there’s an ebb there, down deep, as though at the root of me. I can’t ever cut it away.

But my enemy – everybody’s enemy – is said to prowl like a lion looking for something to devour. That’s… Peter, maybe. Is it prowling inside me, waiting for a chance to come out?

Morgan and I did nothing wrong. Apart from the affair.

But our love mattered. Perhaps I will tell Mum and Dad.

Or maybe I’ll just go through with my plan.

I can’t keep doing this. Hurting him. Hating myself for it, and hating him more for letting it happen.

I wish I could tell him I was sorry. And mean it. And not snap again.

I wish the tears after every fight could stay with me. But they always fade. And even if I’m thinking – I promised I wouldn’t do this – I can’t stop the hate. Not in the moment. Not right then.

I just fucking hate.

I hate life.

I don’t want to be here.

That’s it. I think that’s really it.

I’ve made up my mind.

If I don’t burn this, Scott, just know I’m sorry. I really, truly am so sorry for what I’ve done to us.

55

SCOTT

ONE YEAR LATER

“I think my religious journey really started with my mother.”

Scott stood at the front of Gary’s living room; his friend, although not agreeing with Scott’s new religious streak, was still there for him. When Scott had told him he was getting baptised, Gary had smiled tightly. He’d all but said he could never believe what Scott did.

And yet Gary had offered to throw the party. Scott smiled over at him, where he sat with Aissa. Joseph, a friend from church, sat next to him. Lauren and Morgan were in the corner, and all around there were more people, the atmosphere warm.

Colleagues from school. Scott’s mother in the corner, smiling encouragingly; she’d been so happy when he gave her the news. At church, during the ceremony itself, he’d heard her weeping gently as the water rushed over his head.