"Does it worth it?" I asked after he slid that diamond on my finger, just as I thought he had forgotten his claim of making me his wife a few weeks ago. He could've easily changed his mind. Instead, he presented an elegantly cut, intricately set diamond with the most delicate sparkle. I never asked how much it cost. At that time, I thought I didn't deserve that money to be spent on me. It didn't take long to learn that it was a small price for someone's freedom.
"Shouldn't you ask yourself that question first?" He raised his eyebrows out of amusement. I didn't fully understand what he meant, so he continued: "I'm amused that you turned Laurie down rather quickly. Don't you love him?"
"Love isn't enough," I sounded just.
Thomas smacked his lips: "I'm glad I'm right about you."
"What?" I was puzzled.
"You seem to know what you should value more," he smiled in a way I couldn't comprehend. "I hope you don't live to regret your decision."
I rotated the ring on my finger.
"Can I have a cigarette?" I asked.
"I thought you said you quit," he said as he handed one to me.
"Well," I shrugged, "not anymore."
-----
I often thought about that night train to Chicago. Not consciously, but in bits and pieces when something reminded me of it. Then the memory, like a series of photographss, would suddenly come into my mind's eye, and I'd quietly sulk on it until I set the reminiscence loose.
It was hard to believe there was a time I was so incredibly naïve.
At eighteen years of age, after only knowing Neil for a short time, I ran away from the Red Lantern House. That decision was made in haste. I was brokenhearted when I met him. Wesley had turned me down, and I was desperate for love. Then there was Neil, who was of a similar age as Wesley, who was soft-spoken and criminally kind, who was there when I needed attention.
I thought Wesley would chase after me. He didn't. It was already too late when he found out. He tried to look for me, but it was no use. I was long gone.
Neil waited for me at the train station with his whole life packed into two suitcases. I only had one with me. I pawned all my fine jewelry and clothes given to me by men who considered me their toy. The need to dress like something I wasn't, and what I would never be, was gone. I remembered thinking that I no longer needed to impress men for work. I was foolish.
All was exciting and thrilling. I was nervous, worried, and excited about what was to come.
"Why me?" I asked. We sat next to each other on the train, and I leaned my head on his shoulder when no one was watching.
"Because I love you," he claimed.
Now I wondered if it was all a lie from the start.
-----
Smoking had become the wraith of security to me. Cigarettes had never failed, betrayed, abandoned, or made me doubt my faith. They were always there for me, no matter what dire situation I put myself in. It was pathetic to seek comfort from an inanimate object, but it was better than not having any comfort at all.
I heard footsteps approaching while I smoked, sitting on the ledge of the white marble fountain. I had to say white marble every time I spoke about it since it was how Thomas preferred to call it. White-fucking-marble was what the last Mrs. Murphy liked. In the Angelino Heights House stood a similar-looking fountain outside the front door. I hated that fountain. I wanted to tear it down and set fire to what could be burned.
"I'll head inside after this cigarette," I said, thinking it was either Thomas or Laurie coming to fetch me.
No response. Reluctantly, I looked up and was surprised to see an unfamiliar woman standing frigidly in front of me. Her long, curly brown hair looked smooth and shiny as her healthy complexion glowed under the starry night.
"Yes?" I frowned.
"You're Anne Ferguson," she said directly, "are you not?"
"Anne Murphy," I corrected her, slightly annoyed. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Mildred Brown," she introduced herself. "I think you know who I am."
"Sure," I curled my lips. "A whore."
"Says you," she scoffed. "Everyone knows what you are. Don't act like you're any better than me."
"You aren't supposed to be here," I took the last puff and threw the remainder of the cigarette into the fountain without care. "Leave, please."
"Thomas doesn't love you. He loves me," she said proudly as if that would make me jealous and show her the reaction she wanted. "I'm having his child."
"Do you expect me to believe you?" I was unusually bitter. Standing up, I began walking towards the door. "It could be anyone's bastard, considering your reputation. That's if you're expecting to begin with."
"You need to get out of the picture," she said like she was rightful, "so Thomas and I can be a family."
"Let me guess," I said without looking back, "Thomas doesn't believe you either. Or else you wouldn't be talking to me about this nonsense."
She ran up to me and grabbed my shoulder, hoping to force me to turn around. I spun my arm to shake her hand off and nearly caused her to fall.
"If you ever touch me again," I got close to her pretty face and warned her cruelly, "you're fucking dead. And I mean it. Not the hair-pulling catty shit women like you do. I will put a damn bullet through your skull. Now leave before I make you."
Her muffled shouts were heard as I slammed the door.
-----
The house was filled with strangers and chatter, yet it felt empty. I shouldn't complain. I should be grateful that someone like me could live in a house like this and not worry about money when hardworking, honest souls were struggling on the streets. Indeed, there had always been a chance that I wouldn't get to see tomorrow. However, that was the price I agreed to pay for a lifestyle I didn't deserve. Life isn't fair. I thought before and believed it even more now.
I tapped on Thomas' shoulder. He turned around with a glass of bourbon in hand. He looked oddly cheery, and I wondered how much he had to drink to be this way.
"Mildred Brown is here," I pulled him aside. "Did you ask her to come?"
"Why would I?" He was irked by the accusation. Seeing I didn't respond, he frowned. "I see. She has spoken to you, hasn't she?"
"Is it true?" I asked dryly.
"No," he said, and I believed him. It wasn't about trust. He wouldn't lie about such a thing since he didn't need to, "I see she's given you the crazy talk. I'd never get myself into kind of scandal."
"You don't have to explain yourself. I don't want to know," I said, taking advantage of the liquor inside him.
Thomas threw his hands. I had never seen him doing this. Perhaps he let his guard down since he had secured his position in the county. It was a dangerous move, even for him.
That was when Mildred Brown managed to get through the crowds and found her way to Thomas and me.
"Thomas, dear," she pleaded, "tell her you're leaving her. Tell her you love me, and we'll be a family."
"Don't talk nonsense," Thomas laughed. "You're making a scene."
"You need to leave," I said firmly. "Don't make a fuss."
"What's her good for?" she didn't move and talked as if I wasn't there. "She's a dirty chink, and even her kind abandoned her."
I sighed. What she said didn't bother me. I had heard enough that I no longer cared.
"You need to leave," I repeated.
"Get out," Thomas raised his voice together with his hand. "Watch what you say about my wife."
I couldn't help but think that he only said so because there were guests in the house.
"Thomas, dear…"
She was angry and deluded. In her maddened mind, I was her enemy, the one standing between her and what she perceived as a life of endless fortune. Then I saw the steak knife in her hand. It was of the same make used in this house.
It was too late to stop her.
This woman stabbed me in the shoulder, not too far from the heart. She should've aimed for the neck if she had known any better.
A sharp pain. Then the blood began soaking through my expensive silver blue evening dress. I was provoked and agitated. I reached for my revolver in the holster tied around my calf, struggling to get it out. Murmurs and chaos ensued. I began to feel dizzy. In my fizzling vision, I saw Thomas pulling her away from me, his voice subdued by the ringing in my ears. She escaped from his grasp and snatched my revolver from me without hesitation. My attempt to get it back failed. Instead of me, she aimed at Thomas.
"No," I mumbled. "Not like this."
She fired. With all the strength left, I limped in front of Thomas. She missed the heart, though I didn't know how. It must've been the nerves. The bullet lodged below my ribcage. I dropped to my knees.
She tried to shoot again. But there was another gunshot before she could pull the trigger, and she fell to the floor backward, wide-eyed.
The last thing I saw was Laurie dropping his pistol and beginning to tremble.