Hate to Forget

by L V Chase

  I nod. “It might.”

  She kisses me once more and presses the side of her face against mine. I wish we had more time. I wish we could spend the night in my bed, and I’d show her all of the ways I love her, but we’re on a time constraint, and it will crush us if we don’t get ahead of it.

  She squeezes my hand before quickly turning away and striding toward the door. I wait until I hear the front door open and close. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. I tap on the name Adam Maxwell. It rings three times.

  “Mr. Harrington,” Ethan’s father answers. “How may I assist you today?

  “Have I caught you at a convenient time?” I ask, pacing around the kitchen island.

  “I’ve just enjoyed a dinner with a certain senator who needs a sexual battery accusation to disappear. Small fish, especially when the Society needs him to vote against the uranium mine ban,” he says. “Thank you for the consideration of my time. How can I assist you? Is this about your Harvard application? The recommendation letter I submitted was based on what the Society told me, so I anticipate that you’ll live up to those praises.”

  “No,” I say. “This call is about my father. I performed the nerve surgery on him that was intended for Sadie originally.”

  Silence. I’ve known Mr. Maxwell from a distance throughout most of my life. I’d heard him in multiple meetings with my father. I’d never witnessed him speechless.

  “I see,” he finally says. “It may be best that you refrain from disclosing any more details.”

  “This isn’t about legal proceedings,” I say. “I need you to inform the Society about what I’ve done.”

  “Mmm,” he says. “I have to ask if you understand what you are confessing to and the repercussions for such actions?”

  “I understand,” I say. “And I am in the right state of mind. Tell your superiors that I will take whatever punishment they have for me as long as they don’t involve Sadie or the rest of my family. If they decide to violate that request, I have recordings of all three families talking about the Society and the Hunt, and I have a way for them to be released if I am deceased, incarcerated, or otherwise incapacitated.”

  “This is an extreme plan,” he says. “From what the Society has told me about your psychological profile, I assume you did not tell your family or Sadie what your plan was?”

  “Just tell your superiors,” I say.

  I hang up and set the phone down on the kitchen island. I pour myself a drink. After I finish it, I walk up the stairs to go see my mother one last time.

  At this point, the Society’s lack of punctuality in killing me is disappointing. It’s an hour before midnight.

  I lean back in the armchair. Sadie must be in the second location by now, fast asleep. I imagine her, curled up in bed, her cinnamon brown hair fanned out around her and her hands pressed together under her head. She’d wear one of my shirts to sleep. The hem would end near the middle of her ass.

  If I could lie with her, I’d be spooned around her, my hand on the curve of her hip, and I’d breathe in the shampoo scent of her hair. In the middle of the night, I’d tug her closer to me. In the morning, I’d kiss every hemisphere of her face, my hands tracing the precious contours of her body.

  Instead, she’ll wake up alone. And one day, she’ll read a news article about my untimely death—an accident, a suicide, a radicalized terrorist killed by an upstanding citizen—and she’ll know that I lied to her. I could write her a note, apologizing for everything, but if the Society finds out that she means more to me than a misguided moral siege or an infatuation, they might decide to retaliate against her despite my threat.

  The doorbell trills.

  I slowly stand up. I didn’t expect them to announce their arrival after they had spent all of their time hiding in the shadows, but I can’t be critical about my murderers.

  I walk up to the front door. I picture Sadie’s face and pull it open.

  A woman in her late twenties or early thirties with curly blonde hair stands on the other side. She’s wearing a white sports jacket over a pink blouse. She raises her eyebrow at me.

  “Mr. Harrington,” she says. “We’ve never met. I’m Beth Murray. I was previously the woman who had been assigned to live with Sadie Blair while her grandmother was absent.”

  “Is she okay?” I ask, looking past her, almost expecting Sadie to be standing behind her. I hadn’t considered that the Society could be taking so long to punish me because they’d managed to kidnap Sadie first. “She wasn’t supposed to go home.”

  “As far as I know, Sadie is fine,” she says. “I’m here on behalf of the Society.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Bullshit.”

  “I apologize,” she says. “Which part of my statement do you consider to be bullshit?”

  “You were assigned to that guardian position by the Maxwells,” I say. “We may have never met, but I still know that Adam Maxwell had his assistant take that role. I don’t know what his ploy is, but you aren’t involved in Society business.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Yes, the Society had me apply to his and his wife’s law firm. We knew Adam would want an attractive, female assistant while Alana wouldn’t want him to have someone young and impressionable. She would want someone who’d had some experience in law and valuable connections, so we arranged for my resume to show that. After they hired me, I befriended the family.”

  “Was the Society so certain that Ethan Maxwell would win the Hunt?” I ask.

  “No,” she says. “Nearly all of us were fairly certain that Sadie would choose you. A girl who lost her parents and hadn’t formed a secure attachment to her grandmother would pursue a mate who exhibits a dismissive-avoidant attachment. I only inserted myself into the lives of the Maxwells to monitor their family, the Shaws, and your family. Did you truly believe that the Society would not keep a close watch on the families? I know that the story the three of you concocted about Sadie having PTSD after an attempted rape was a false narrative to cover up another action that you and your father committed.”

  I scowl at that last remark, but she continues.

  “Deceptions like that are exactly why I’m here. Adam believes that he assigned me to monitor Sadie and ensure that you and your father weren’t cheating, but that isn’t what happened. He assigned me to that task because I used the Society’s persuasion techniques for him to put me there. I’m certain you have some doubts about us, but the results are undeniable. It’s getting a bit chilly out here. May I come in?”

  “Are you asking for permission to come in before you kill me?”

  “I am asking for permission to come in, as that tends to lead to better results between two individuals than if I walked in without permission.”

  I open the door wider and step aside. “Welcome to my family’s home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Harrington.”

  She walks in, barely pausing as she navigates down the hall to the living room. She sits down in the same armchair my father passed out in. I sit across from her.

  She crosses her legs, placing her hands over her knees. “The Society commends you for your Machiavellian ploy.”

  “You mean cold-hearted?”

  “Let’s settle to call it cut-throat,” she says. “Which is a characteristic we highly value in the Society. We need individuals who can see the whole playing field and make the right decisions despite their personal emotions concerning the situation.”

  I stare at her. “Is this a performance review before you kill me?”

  She smiles at me. “If what you stated is true—I will be verifying that—your father is no longer capable of fulfilling his role. You, however, seem to be on the route that will allow you to fulfill his role. If anything, you may be capable of surpassing him. Your father has all of the right traits, but we didn’t foresee his narcissism developing to the point that it would become a hindrance. With you, we could control for that, along with helping you become someone of renown.”

  “You mea
n someone who will be useful to your group,” I say. “I’m not interested in being part of the Society that way.”

  “We could also ensure the safety of Sadie and your family.”

  I slide to the end of the couch, my knees touching against the coffee table. Beth’s eyes flicker down my body as her hand twitches toward her hip—indications she has a weapon. Death is still on the table.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I say. “But I told Adam Maxwell my offer. I’m certain he told it to you, too.”

  “He did tell us,” she says. “You’re willing to die for the safety of your family and Sadie, but you aren’t willing to join us?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’ve learned from this experience that I have no desire to contribute to the Society. You were willing to put a woman in slavery for your petty games. I’d rather die.”

  “You must know that we knew you’d say that too,” she says.

  I shrug. “Your knowledge about what I’m going to say doesn’t change my answer.”

  “Yes. But our knowledge does allow us to exploit people’s worst fears,” she says. “Do you think Sadie enjoys being at Primrose Hotel? It must be traumatizing after Mr. Shaw’s actions.”

  My lungs compress. I turn cold. “How did you know where she was?”

  “As I previously stated, Mr. Harrington, we’ve been monitoring everyone. I’m certain you thought having your brother drive Sadie and using his car would be enough, but your mistake was that you took her out of school. After that abnormal behavior, there were two more changes in her behavior—she went to your house with you, and she left to go to dinner with Vince Harrington, whom she hasn’t had significant interactions with before. When she returned to your house and left shortly afterward with Vince, it would have been careless for me not to keep an eye on her.”

  “Is she okay?” I ask. I fold my hand around my fist, waiting for her to give the wrong answer.

  “We had one of our kind officers bring her in for trespassing. We can make the charge disappear, or she can disappear in the US prison system. It’s your decision.”

  “You’re a malicious bitch,” I say.

  “I don’t deny that. Can I take that statement to mean that you agree to our terms?” she asks.

  “How can you sleep at night doing things like this?”

  “The same way that you will once you agree to our terms. We all have our ambitions and our fears. The Society fulfills the former and doesn’t fulfill the latter—as long as you agree.”

  Sadie isn’t curled up, fast asleep, like I’d thought. She was in jail, surrounded by enemies.

  But the Society is giving me a way out. I can be with Sadie.

  I had been ready to send myself to Hell to keep her safe, but if I can stay with her…I’ll gladly sign a deal with the devil, bury as many bodies as I have to, turn myself into one of them.

  I’d do anything to be with Sadie. I would even become my father, the man I hated the most.

  I lean back into the couch. “What do you need from me?”

  Epilogue

  Sadie

  I sit at the table alone. I didn’t expect to feel like a brand new person after finishing high school, but I’m stretched between feeling the same and feeling like the earth is spinning on its axis faster than before. After my struggles in the beginning of the school year, I wasn’t able to get into any of my dream colleges, but I’ll go to community college for a couple of years, prove myself, and transfer to one of them. I’d been leaning toward majoring in psychology. I could become a social worker or a child development specialist. I could become more than a leftover Sacrifice.

  I walk over to the window. The house that Klay had built next to his family’s house is obscured by the massive cherry blossom trees, lilac shrubs, hydrangea bushes, and other varieties of plants my grandmother insisted she needed. I thought she’d have a hard time moving from the house she’d lived in for decades, but she’s fully immersed herself in the lifestyle of the rich and the prestigious. It took her some time to trust Klay, but after witnessing his love for me and his dedication to getting his mother help, she’s starting to give him a chance.

  The security system plays an arpeggio as someone opens the front door. I navigate down the hallways until I find Klay in the foyer, loosening his tie.

  “Hello, Sadie,” he says, pulling the tie free.

  “Hello, Klay,” I say.

  As I stop a few inches away from him, he hangs the tie around my neck, pulling me closer. When we kiss, I taste the bourbon on his lips. After being drugged at Roman’s party and his father forcing me to drink some of his poisoned whiskey, I can’t stand alcohol anymore. But when it comes from Klay’s lips, I’ll drink until I pass out.

  He tugs down on his tie harder, leaving a kiss behind my ear. “How was your day?”

  “Better now,” I say. “How was the meeting?”

  “Surprisingly peaceful.” His hands move to my hips, pulling me taut against him. “John Shaw still blames me for his family being disqualified from future Hunts. Adam Maxwell only tolerates me because he hates my father. But neither will risk going against me now.”

  “What about the Society?” I ask, running my hands down his arms. “Did you get them to change the Hunt?”

  “Mmm.” He tugs a section of his tie away from my neck and kisses the side of my throat. “If I did, what would you be willing to do for me?”

  He’s avoiding the question, but we can’t win everything, only enough, and Klay is more than enough. Some things will take time to change, and I know that Klay’s a good man despite what he claims at times.

  I laugh. “Oh, are we keeping track of debts? I think I did a good job showing my appreciation already.”

  He laughs. I love that laugh. He quickly kisses my cheek.

  “You know I don’t mean it, right?” he asks. “If there’s one thing I said that was true during that mess, it’s that you don’t owe me anything. Just having you here is enough for me.”

  I shrug. “I like being in your debt. I’ll think of a way to pay you off, but we need to get ready for graduation now,” I say.

  He groans.

  “I know you hate it,” I say, “but I promised Emmy we wouldn’t skip out on it. Once we’re done, we can have our own intimate party here since your brothers will still be in the city.”

  He reluctantly pulls away from me. “I need to shower. Join me?”

  I shake my head. “I already showered, and I need to eat. I’m not going to pass out on stage.”

  I watch him take slow steps up the stairs. After a few minutes have passed, I follow him up. I go into our bedroom. I hadn’t been certain about moving in with him, but he’d been insistent to ensure that I was safe. He’d given me my own room, but the first night, I’d joined him in his bedroom, and I kept coming back every night.

  With month after month of minimal drama, I’d worried that at some point, his passion for me would fade. It’s easy to make love to someone when you’re constantly afraid of losing him, or when it feels like a new relationship because my memories are erased. But the way he touches me still makes it feel new. The way he loves me still ignites me.

  I shed all of my clothes, pulling on the graduation gown. For someone who’s been terrified of change, this doesn’t scare me. I pull my hair into a ponytail. I check myself in the full-length mirror before walking out.

  I head straight to the second-floor bathroom. When I open the door, steam pours out.

  I hear water from the shower splashing as Klay washes himself. I prop myself up on the bathroom sink. That memory of the time we had sex in the school bathroom came back to me completely. I’d worried that without the secrecy, it would affect our sex life, but it was better than ever now. Sex in Klay’s Jeep was provocative and exciting, but being able to keep going all night and falling asleep together is an incomparable experience. It held all of the fervor from before, but I didn’t need to question whether I was being used for a quick lay or feel like I was something to be
ashamed of.

  The water from the shower turns off. I keep my eyes on the glass door as it opens.

  He’s still a stunning man. He’s put on more muscle since joining the Society, the stress cutting him so deeply that it became visible through his body’s definition. I never thought I’d be attracted to a man like this, but every time I see him naked like, heat rushes to my face.

  As he gazes back at me, his arousal becomes more and more evident. I smile at him.

  “What’s going on?” he asks lightly.

  “I’m just a bit disappointed,” I say. “I always hear about the Society’s interest in medical experiments, but you haven’t experimented on me at all.”

  “Maybe you were a terrible research subject. Remember the biology project?”

  “Maybe you could teach me how to be better,” I say.

  “Maybe,” he said, his hands grabbing onto my knees. “It depends on your commitment to the lecture.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m about to leave?”

  His mouth moves close to mine before grazing against my cheek and stopping near my ear.

  “First,” he murmurs. “You need to know yourself very, very well to be a good research subject. So, you should get acquainted with yourself.”

  He forcefully tugs up my gown. I nearly slip off the sink, but I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. He can’t suppress a smile as he sees I don’t have underwear on. He reaches between my thighs and presses right above my most sensitive spot, making a slow circle. My breath gets caught in my throat.

  “Just move your hand like this,” he says. “Three times clockwise, three times counter-clockwise.”

  I’ve started this game, but I already know it’s going to be a slow, thrilling torture. I do as he says, pressing down hard as I gaze right at him. I nearly start the movements all over again when I’m finished, but he grabs my hand, pulling it away. I set it back down on the sink counter.

  “What do you feel?” he asks.

  “Good. A little lightheaded. Warm. Needy,” I say.