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alone.
    “Alright, yeah- that sounds good. I’ll give you a night out on the town. I bet you haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
    I smiled thinly. It was hard to keep my composure around Mr. Devereaux. He was one of the most repulsive men I’d ever met.
    “We should really get going,” I said. “I’m running late.”
    “Okay,” he finally conceded.
    He put the car in gear. Thankfully, it was a short drive. I opened the door and hopped out on my own. I didn’t want his hands on me, helping me out of the car. I grabbed my crutches and waved goodbye to him.
    “I’ve got it from here. Thanks for the ride,” I said, desperate to see him leave.
    “Should I pick you up later?”
    “What? No. She’ll give me a ride.”
    I wasn’t sure if this was the case, but I figured she would. Apparently, she’d done it multiple times before.
    Mr. Devereaux nodded. “Well, Friday then?”
    I stared at him blankly. I had no idea what he was talking about.
    “For our date- I’ll pick you up on Friday,” he said clarifying.
    “Oh! Yeah. Sounds great,” I replied through clinched teeth.
    I waved again. He waved back and watched me closely as I approached the cabin. I knocked on the door and waited. I was met with silence from inside. Silently, I prayed she was home. I did not want to get back into Mr. Devereaux’s car.
    I glanced over my shoulder. He was still watching. His eyes were trained on me like a hawk. I knocked again, banging louder. I heard shuffling footsteps from inside. The door opened. I was greeted by the sight of the woman from the bridge. Her hair was a mess and she wore a loose robe. She narrowed her eyes and made a face of surprise. I smiled brightly.
    “Invite me in,” I whispered.
    I knew Mr. Devereaux was watching and listening. She looked past me to the idling sports car. When she saw it, a look of anger crossed her face.
    “Get in,” she said.
    She grabbed my shoulder and pushed me into the cabin. The woman pulled back the window’s drapes and looked out suspiciously. After what felt like ages, I heard the sound of the sports car pulling away. She closed the curtains forcefully.
    “Are you surprised to see me?” I asked.
    She responded by crossing her arms in front of her chest.
    “I remember,” I said excitedly. “You said I never remember, but I remember everything.”
    “What is it that you think you remember?”
    Her response took the wind out of my sails. She didn’t believe me.
    “Last night,” I said. “It’s crazy, but I remember it all. And I believe you. I didn’t at first, but you have no reason to lie.”
    The woman nodded slowly and looked back out the window.
    “Sit down,” she said. “I’ll make you some tea.”
    Mr. Devereaux’s words about how she’d supposedly poisoned her second husband flashed through my mind. There was no reason to suspect this woman was out to get me, but his words left me paranoid.
    I sat down at her table with difficulty. The painkiller was starting to wear off; my leg was throbbing. She set a hot cup of tea down in front of me. I sipped from it cautiously. She didn’t join me in drinking. She simply sat down across from me and watched me with a stern look on her face.
    “It suddenly occurred to me,” I said, “that I don’t even know your name.”
    “Jillian.”
    “You haven’t told me before, have you? I’d hate to think I’ve forgotten.”
    “No. This is the first time you’ve asked.”
    An awkward silence passed between us. I sipped my tea. It had a strange fragrant taste I didn’t recognize.
    “It’s not poisoned,” she said with a laugh.
    I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”
    “That’s what they say about me, isn’t it? That I poisoned my husband?”
    “I don’t know what they say about you. I don’t care. Besides, they probably say worse about me.”
    “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
    “That I killed my husband.”
    It was hard to say out loud. My tongue felt thick; my mouth dry. I took a big gulp of the