ELAINE - PRESENT DAY

Charlie fired me. I understand him. After all, I promised I'd take only a few days off, which was two weeks ago. It's surprising he kept me this long on board anyway.

Even though he doesn't understand what I've been going through, I can't bring myself to be angry at him. He has a business to run. He doesn't have the time to think about me and my problems.

He can't know my life has been spiralling out of control during the last two weeks.

The blood tests from Adora's ob-gyn came back. I'm one hundred percent pregnant. She asked me what I wanted to do and I could only crumble in tears and mumble how I couldn't possibly have Graham's baby, not after what he did to me.

Memories of everything that happened flash in my mind. Every extortion, every blackmail, every insult. Each time I remember, it feels like I'm reliving it.

And yet-

The worst of all is the one night I cannot remember.

The first night. When I woke up in his room. I can still taste the fear and the shame.

Pain throbs in my temples. I can't get out of bed; I can't even force myself to move to the other side. I know what this is, it's happened to me before, but it's never been this bad.

I need something to pull me out.

But everyone's reluctant to talk to me, aside from Josh.

But he doesn't really want to hear what happened, he doesn't want to talk about what I went through. All he wants to know is whether Graham and I were really seeing each other.

How am I supposed to tell him his friend raped, assaulted and abused me for three weeks?

How am I supposed to tell him his mere presence reminds me of Graham?

How am I supposed to tell him that when I realised Graham was dead, I felt relief?

So, I don't answer any of his phone calls or messages. My mother calls twice, she must have found out in the meantime a kid died on campus and she wants to see how it affected me.

Relief.

I felt relief.

Yet, nothing is resolved. Because right when I found out Graham was dead, I also found out I was pregnant.

I was trying to listen to Adora's advice and pretend it wasn't a big deal, but it's catching up with me.

Because in the meantime, all of Harvard somehow found out Graham and I were "seeing" each other. No, scratch that.

They think I was stalking Graham, that I was obsessed with him, that I wanted to be with him so desperately that I threatened to kill myself.

If I kill myself, they'll think I did it because I couldn't live without Graham.

It's not fair.

The cops haven't contacted me again, which must mean Graham erased all evidence from his computer. I don't know whether to feel sorry or to be relieved.

I'm relieved because my involvement official ceases if the cops don't contact me again. I want it to be over. I don't think I can handle much more of this.

On the other hand, no one will ever know what he did to me. And if he erased everything, there isn't any evidence. No one would believe me even if I said something.

It makes me angry and resentful.

Today was his funeral.

And surprise, surprise, someone streamed it on TikTok. Hundreds of people came; family members, dozens of his campus friends, colleagues and acquaintances, every professor that's ever seen him, his father's business associates and the press.

However, one person lacked. Me.

I couldn't do it. No matter how much I forced myself, I simply couldn't do it.

I hate him.

I hate his dead, rotting body.

And I'm glad he's dead with every fibre of my being.

Anger spikes through me, causing me to turn around, which is the most moving I've done all day. I blubber into my pillow, angry, hot tears soak into the fabric.

Why me?

Why did it have to be me?

I'm a nobody, I'm just some girl no one even talks to.

I snuggle into my blanket, trying to shush down my sobs. Fortunately, even my roommate went to the funeral and she doesn't have to witness my breakdowns. I hope she'll be out for a while.

The knock on the door startles me.

I lift my head, but otherwise don't move and keep quiet. Whoever it is, they'll go away soon.

Knocking continues.

"Elaine, open the door."

The muffled voice belongs to Adora.

She's the type of a person who's used to getting whatever she wants, and my answering the door is no exception.

"Open the goddamn door, Elaine! I know you're in there!" She just keeps on shouting.

I don't want to face her now. She's too real for me, too grounded.

"I'll break in! You know I'm more than capable! Plus, everyone can hear me. Is that what you want? Everyone knowing we're talking to each other? Open the door, now!"

I push the blanket off, immediately swept by the wave of coldness. I'm still in my PJs and don't bother changing into something else as I drag myself to the door.

Adora hits the door with her fist, "Open the door!"

I can hear her wincing on the other side. I swear this girl is completely insane.

I unlock the door, "What do you want?"

Adora is wearing a gorgeous, sleek black dress, buttoned up to her neck, with long sleeves. Despite completely covering the body, there's nothing modest about the dress. It emphasizes her figure perfectly, complementing each curve and crevice. She wears her hair down and has no jewellery except for the two, tear-shaped diamonds hanging off her ears.

A pissed-off expression adds an edge to her outfit, "What the fuck are you doing in your room?"

"Sleeping." I yawn and let her in.

She takes in the room; the messy table littered with books, pens and empty coffee cups, the unmade bed, the clothes on the floor. Her nose wrinkles, possibly due to my room smelling like desperation and tragedy.

"You weren't at the funeral." She taps her high-heeled boot on my carpet.

"No." I breathe out. "I just couldn't handle it."

She faces me, "You're an idiot."

Here we go.

I drop on my bed, too tired to argue.

"I'm sorry, Adora, it's too much."

"Don't apologize to me." She arches her perfect eyebrow. "Apologize to yourself when your ass ends up in jail."

Fear spikes through me, "What are you talking about?"

"Listen to me, Elaine." She grabs chair, throws the clothes on the pile on the carpet, pulls it towards the bed and sits down. "Everyone was at the funeral. And I mean everyone. Graham's parents, the press, and the two private investigators Graham's father hired to solve the murder."

My eyes widen, my voice is a whisper, "What?"

"I've been telling you this for two weeks." Adora's eyes never leave mine. "Graham's parents don't believe he killed himself. Cops may have ruled it as a suicide, but Graham's dad hired private investigators. He's not giving up."

"But- but it's not my fault!" I shout.

Depression and anxiety are dancing tango in my head and anxiety is, once again, leading.

"It doesn't matter." Adora shakes her head. "They're not interested in the truth, they're interested in appeasing William Koch, even if it means pinning this on someone. Now, the line between a bereaved and a black widow is a thin one."

"I'm sorry!" I cry out. "I couldn't... I can't."

Adora leans against the backrest, "You better come up with a good excuse why the girl Graham was seeing right before he died wasn't at the funeral. People are going to have some questions."

"I would have broken down in front of everyone!" I shout. "I would have shouted and screamed and caused a scene!"

"So?" Adora's eyebrow shoots up again. "It would have been a great PR stunt. The press would have been all over it and everyone would think you're just so heartbroken your lover is dead."

"Not everything should be done for reputation!"

Adora lets out a laugh, "You think I'm doing this for reputation? I attended the damn funeral, I did my part, but you failed to do yours."

I don't say anything.

"Somebody is after us, Elaine." She continues. "Someone is, for some reason, trying to pin this on us. If we give anyone any reason to doubt us, we'll go down and we'll go down fast."

A lump forms in my throat, thick and full of unshed tears.

"I just couldn't stand there and listen to everyone say good things about him, watch everyone cry over him." I whisper.

"Graham is six feet under ground, but let me assure you, no one is resting easy." Adora stands up. "Tell them you were too sick with sorrow to come to the funeral."

"It's not a lie." I manage a small, humourless smile.

"Even better." Adora heads for the door.

It's only when she tries to leave that I realise I'm afraid to be alone. I don't trust myself anymore, I don't know what I might do. But I can't tell her that.

"I hate him." It's all I can utter. "I hate him so much."

Adora walks over, sits on the bed and pull me in for a hug.

I gasp with surprise.

Her hands are strong against my back, she's squeezing me tightly, almost too tightly. For a moment, my anxiety eases and I'm capable of breathing fully. I breathe in her perfume; lemon, lavender, ginger.

"He's dead." Adora whispers in my ear. "The fucker's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

I nod, "He's dead."

Adora pulls away and a void appears in her place.

On her way out, she turns around and raises her finger, "Get your shit together, Elaine."

I breathe in, "I'll try."

She might not be the friend I want, but she's the friend I need.