He wouldn't let me take Daniel. He wouldn't let me take Jason. And in response to asking if I could go to the gun range? A puzzled look, and why would you want to go there, Anna? You can't shoot, and there's no reason for you to learn. You just hang tight, everything will be just fine. I'll take care of you. Now go and check on your friend.
Olivia is strung tighter than a drum tonight. She's not talking to me much, either. "Just write, Anna. I don't have the patience for your chatter tonight. Write what you need to, and get it off your chest before you explode."
And so I write.
I've been obsessing over Serena Harper's suicide all day. What finally pushed her over the edge? Why didn't she blow Will's head off at the same time? He was right there. How did she know how to use a handgun? Is it the same as a rifle?
I can shoot a rifle. I wonder if Ed's forgotten that fact. For that matter, I wonder if Ed ever even knew? I used to be a really good shot, too. Almost seven years in army cadets and maybe not top honours in marksmanship, but I could hold my own. I did my fair share of hunting as a teenager, too. It's been 15 years, though. Would it all come back to me if I needed it?
Could I shoot a living, breathing human being? Or would I use it on myself?
I mentioned this to Olivia, and she looked at me like I had two heads. "You? You. Used to be an army cadet. You have got to be kidding me. Have you looked in a mirror lately Anna? Like in the last eight years that I've known you? You're pathetic. All these years I tried to see why Jess stuck up for you, insisted you were worth my time to get to know, and honestly, I tried. But you've never been anything but a stereotypical housewife, completely dependant on her husband for everything, needy, and damn near incapable of farting without Ed's permission."
It's almost time to go, Ed will expect me soon.
And look at what I just wrote, right there. When did this happen to me? How long have I been like this?
