She knew exactly where to find Scarlett. She had caught him there a few times when he would disappear for days on end. The glow of The Rabbit in Red Lounge came into view. She put the car in park and made herself comfortable. Sitting in the parking lot brought back and onslaught of less than pleasant memories. She had followed him here before many a time. He had never left with the same woman twice until one night in particular. She was tall, thin with a very wispy figure. Her long legs were usually adorned with fishnet tights under a short skirt or dress that clung tightly to her body. Her hair was long, bright red and it framed her gaunt features in what (Y/n) always thought was an unflattering way. He clearly hadn't had the same opinion. Money disappeared and coincidentally her bare neck become covered in pearls, diamonds or whatever she fancied. He preferred to lavish gifts on her instead of paying rent most times. To him, she was worth starving. (Y/n) let out a humorless laugh when she recalled how briefly she had experienced that Oscar worthy act he had performed when they had met. If what Scarlett was saying was true, that he had been so wonderful to her, then what had she herself done wrong to deserve such cruelty? All the time, energy, and love she had given was handed freely to someone else and kindly. It couldn't be true. She had to have been lying. (Y/n) herself knew there was a time she would have done anything to protect his image. So many lies had left her lips to friends and family to make sure he remained 'good'. Maybe it was to protect her own shame, to hide that she had been so weak and naive to invite whatever he was into her life. Still, she felt no sympathy for Scarlett. Perhaps it had been building long before any of this had happened, before he died. Scarlett was just a vessel. In her she had and always would see each and every face she never could be sure was beneath him all those nights. She was every infidelity. She was every infection he had given her. She was every beating, every insult, every hurtful thing he had ever done to her. She was him.
The door to the lounge opened and forcefully pulled her out of her thoughts. She realized she had been there for quite awhile, it seemed to be closing. A few stragglers stumbled out. She was about to lose hope until she saw her familiar form. She was hanging on one of the men that had tumbled through the door. For someone who was riddled with grief, she looked to be quite happy. (Y/n) scoffed as she watched the man push her up against the concrete walls and hide his face in her bare neck. Scarlett threw her head back, a smug grin on her face as her choice for the night ran his hand up her bare leg. The lust in her eyes was sickening. In a way, it was like watching what they had done together while (Y/n) was home alone or in a hospital bed. She hadn't noticed her grip had tightened around the steering wheel until the tips of her fingernails began to dig into the flesh of her palms. The woman pushed the drunkard off of her.
"Not tonight," she said as she adjusted her skirt.
"Come on babe," he said as he moved towards her again.
She smirked, but brushed him off. He was left pouting on the empty sidewalk as she glided over to her car. (Y/n) lowered her head below the steering wheel, but made sure to check which car she would be following. The lights on a red sedan flashed on. Red. Of course. Easy. The taillights began to veer off into the night and the Oldsmobile followed just far enough behind to avoid attracting the woman's attention. It wasn't too far of a drive before they came upon a small house. It wasn't too far off from where (Y/n) had previously lived. That made her livid. She was glad of it, it would only make this more enjoyable. The garage opened and the sedan disappeared into it and parked. She shut the Oldsmobile off quick as possible and walked towards the house as the garage began to close. She slipped underneath just before it touched the ground. It was dark, she had clearly already gone inside. She slowly found her way past the parked car and to the door. Her heart beat faster when her fingers found the handle. There was a possibility this would be her final act. Part of her wondered if Michael would kill her for what she was about to do. Most of her didn't care. Behind that door lay what would be justice. Justice for every sick thing she had been forced to endure. If he couldn't forgive her, so be it. If he killed her, good. She knew she would deserve death after this and she would gladly embrace it at his hands.
The handle was turning before she even realized it. Her body was guiding her now. She let the door slowly creak open the rest of the way to reveal a hallway. She crept inside to find it mostly dark except for a ray of light coming from the room at the very end. Her footsteps were nearly inaudible as she approached. Scarlett fell into view. She was sat at her dresser combing through her long red hair. She wore a familiar looking robe, one (Y/n) had thought she had lost after she purchased it. How perfect.
"It's comfy, isn't it?" (Y/n) said, startling the woman and causing her to drop her brush.
Scarlett turned to face her intruder who wore a small smirk. (Y/n) gestured to the silk draped around her.
"The robe," she said with a nod, "I thought it was too."
"(Y/n)," Scarlett uttered, "you've got some nerv-"
"Coming here? I know. But ask and you shall receive," (y/n) said with a bow.
"Excuse me?" Scarlett asked, she grew increasingly uncomfortable under (Y/n)'s unhinged gaze.
"'She must be brought to justice, we have to find her,' well I'm here now Scarlett and we both know it's not me who's long over due for justice," (y/n) said.
"I'm calling the police."
"I wouldn't do that," she said as she quickly pulled the gun out and aimed it.
"What do you want?" Scarlett said, tears starting to form in her hazel eyes.
"I want you to know what he was," (Y/n) started as she inched closer.
Scarlett began to instinctively back away and fell off of her vanity chair. She scrambled to get up and did her best to face (y/n), though her frightened tears were blurring her sight.
"What do you mean?" Scarlett sobbed out.
"I kept his secrets too, you know, I was his own personal dam for so long. I protected him, like you are, painted him out to be the perfect man. We both know that's far from the truth," (y/n) spoke, she was eerily calm as she kept the gun pointed directly at Scarlett's face, "to the rest of the world I'll forever be a flood gate to that bastard now that it's decided that I killed him. That he's the victim. But you'll know. You'll know exactly who it was you chose to die for."
"You did kill him, didn't you?" Scarlett cried.
(Y/n) shook her head, "I should have."
"What about Daniel?"
"Almost," (y/n) said with a smile, "that would have been satisfying."
"You're lying," Scarlett screamed.
(Y/n) lunged forward and grabbed the woman's slender throat, gun pressed firmly at her temple, "No, but you are, aren't you?"
The sound of her sobs filled the room, but (Y/n) wouldn't relent, "Why are you protecting him?"
"What do you mean?" She cried.
(Y/n) grabbed her by her hair and began to drag her down the hallway. That strength she had previously discovered was quickly returning, no matter how much Scarlett fought back she couldn't stop her. Her body had become like iron, the hatred she had allowed to build within her had hardened everything inside. She felt no empathy for Scarlett's pleads and no one was here to stop her this time. She ripped the tie from the robe, forced Scarlett into a chair and grabbed her wrists
"You and I both know what he was, Scarlett," she practically growled as she tightened the rope more so than needed, "you want me to believe you were different? Special? That he changed for you?"
Once she was finished tying, she stood up. She was satisfied that Scarlett couldn't move so she replaced the gun in the back of her jeans.
"Tell me," she practically hissed.
"I don't understand," Scarlett said, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.
"Tell me that he took you away from your family, your friends. That he locked you in a room while you were carrying his child, left you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company for days. So long sometimes you thought you were seeing things, hearing things from lack of sleep wondering where he was. Tell me how his hands felt wrapped around your neck while you were begging for air or how merciless his eyes looked just before you lost consciousness? Because we both know he never came home happy. We both know he needed a punching bag as soon as he walked through the door and if you fought back he only hit harder. Tell me that while you gave up your life for him, loved him and only him he called you a whore while he had his forehead pressed so hard against your skull you were sure it would crack under the pressure. Did you ever hope that maybe he would just break you? That one day he would squeeze just a little too hard? So you wouldn't have to live another day loving a person who you knew you meant nothing to. I wanted death. I wanted to feel nothing, instead I felt shame, guilt, fear. Everything he should have felt. I took it. He took my innocence. He took everything from me. He ruined me."
She tried her best to hold back tears, she didn't like crying over him. She had done so much of that already, the thought of wasting more on him only angered her further. She turned away to hide them from her captive, she wouldn't be seen as weak. She had been weak for too long.
"I am lying," Scarlett whispered.
(Y/n) didn't turn back just yet, but she listened.
"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)," she cried.
(Y/n) finally turned to face her again. She expected to see the same pain she herself wore freely now, but it wasn't the same. There was guilt within her gaze. As she studied her, she began to realize it was not only guilt, but knowledge. This wasn't the first time she had heard this.
"I should have stopped him. I thought you would have enough one day, that you would leave or he would put you out of your misery. I just didn't want to lose him," Scarlett said as if (Y/n) would feel sympathy for her.
She was dumbfounded. Her eyes widened as she stared at the bound woman before her and realized she knew all along what he was doing. She had had the key to release her from her prison but withheld it for her own selfish gain. She wouldn't have grieved (Y/n)'s death, she would have rejoiced in it. None of her pain and suffering had ever mattered. Any reluctance she had about killing her was fading fast.
"You knew," (Y/n) said, "all this time, you knew."
"You don't understand-"
"No, I understand perfectly," (Y/n) said as she raised the gun once more.
"Please, don't," Scarlett shrieked.
Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut and prepared herself for death. Just before (Y/n) could pull the trigger, the front door burst open. Without turning her head, her arm flew up and her aim was repositioned. She slowly moved her gaze to him. He was masked once more, but she could clearly see he was stunned to find a gun between the two of them. She met his eyes and shook her head.
"Not this time."