Had she seen me? I heard her footsteps approaching. Too late to back out now. I reached into my back pocket and took out the black balaclava I’d bought. I pulled it over my head. I put on a pair of gloves.
She walked in. She was on the phone: “Okay, darling. I’ll see you at eight. Yes … I love you too.”
She ended the call and switched on an electric fan. She stood in front of the fan, her hair blowing in the breeze. She picked up a paintbrush and approached a canvas on an easel. She stood with her back to me. Then she caught sight of my reflection in the window. I think she saw my knife first. She stiffened and slowly turned around. Her eyes were wide with fear. We stared at each other in silence.
This was the first time I came face-to-face with Alicia Berenson.
The rest, as they say, is history.
PART FIVE
If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me.
—Job 9:20
CHAPTER ONE
Alicia Berenson’s Diary
FEBRUARY 23
Theo just left. I am alone. I’m writing this as fast as I can. I haven’t got much time. I’ve got to get this down while I still have the strength.
I thought I was crazy at first. It was easier to think I was crazy than believe it was true. But I’m not crazy. I’m not.
That first time I met him in the therapy room, I wasn’t sure—there was something familiar about him, but different—I recognized his eyes, not just the color but the shape. And the same smell of cigarettes and smoky aftershave. And the way he formed words, and the rhythm of his speech—but not the tone of his voice, it seemed different somehow. So I wasn’t sure—but the next time we met, he gave himself away. He said the same words—the exact same phrase he’d used at the house, burned into my memory:
“I want to help you—I want to help you see clearly.”
As soon as I heard that, something in my brain clicked and the jigsaw came together—the picture was complete.
It was him.
And something in me took over, some kind of wild animal instinct. I wanted to kill him, kill or be killed—I leaped on him and tried to strangle him and scratch his eyes out, bash his skull to pieces on the floor. But I didn’t succeed in killing him, and they held me down and drugged me and locked me up. And then—after that I lost my nerve. I started to doubt myself again—maybe I’d made a mistake, maybe I was imagining it, maybe it wasn’t him.
How could it possibly be Theo? What purpose could he have in coming here to taunt me like this? And then I understood. All that bullshit about wanting to help me—that was the sickest part of it. He was getting a kick out of it, he was getting off on it—that’s why he was here. He had come back to gloat.
“I want to help you—I want to help you see clearly.”
Well, now I saw. I saw clearly. I wanted him to know that I knew. So I lied about the way Gabriel died. As I was talking, I could see he knew I was lying. We looked at each other and he saw it—that I had recognized him. And there was something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Fear. He was afraid of me—of what I might say. He was scared—of the sound of my voice.
That’s why he came back a few minutes ago. He didn’t say anything this time. No more words. He grabbed my wrist and stuck a needle in my vein. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t fight back. I let him do it. I deserve it—I deserve this punishment. I am guilty—but so is he. That’s why I’m writing this—so he won’t get away with it. So he will be punished.
I’ve got to be quick. I can feel it now—the stuff he injected me with is working. I’m so drowsy. I want to lie down. I want to sleep.… But no—not yet. I’ve got to stay awake. I’ve got to finish the story. And this time, I’ll tell the truth.
That night, Theo broke into the house and tied me up—and when Gabriel came home, Theo knocked him out. At first I thought he’d killed him—but then I saw Gabriel was breathing. Theo pulled him up and tied him to the chair. He moved it so Gabriel and I were sitting back-to-back, and I couldn’t see his