Jane Doe(59)

“It’s so loud!”

“It’s a gun, Jane. It’s going to make a loud noise.”

It’s going to make a big hole in your gut too, I think, but I mutter an apology and keep my hands over my ears for the second shot.

This time one of the cans goes flying and he grins, then fires again and again. Once all the cans are gone, he walks out and resets them on the boulder. “That’s how you do it.”

“Can I try now?”

He scoffs at my request but hands over the rifle. When I turn toward the cans, the barrel grazes right by him. For a moment he’s in my sights.

“Hey! Don’t point it at me! That’s the first damn rule! How fucking stupid are you?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Jesus Christ. Is your finger on the trigger?”

Yes, it definitely is. “Oh, I’m really sorry, sweetie. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, use that worthless brain for once.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“Mean? You just almost shot me! Don’t you think that was a little fucking mean? I’ve only told you three goddamn things about shooting, and you can’t even get those right!”

I raise my voice to a higher pitch, making my words tremble with panic. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it!” I can’t shoot him here at the cabin, but the next time he turns his back, I’ll point it right at him just for fun.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. All right. Don’t do it again. And there’s no crying on hunting trips, okay?”

I sniff and nod. “Okay. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. But pay attention. This isn’t one of your ridiculous books. This is real life with real consequences.”

It certainly is.

I nod and pretend I don’t mind being talked to like a child. I remember how often Meg would tell me that she was just as bad as he was. I say mean things too. I start arguments. I’m not innocent here.

No. No one is innocent. But Steven escalates a thoughtless moment into deliberate cruelty every time. That was how he’d learned to respond to hurt: Accidentally bump into my emotions and I will punch you as hard as I can. It makes his pain go away, maybe. At the very least, he can feel as if he’s won the interaction, and, boy, does he like winning. He needs to feel powerful to feel safe. Hey, I can understand that but I can’t sympathize. That’s not an emotion I can tap into.

He comes in close behind me to help me position the rifle correctly. His groin is pushed right up against my butt, of course. “You’re not going to be able to cover your ears, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’ll hold on and keep you safe,” he murmurs, sliding his hands to my waist.

I sight through the scope and deliberately miss, letting the stock smack into my shoulder as the shot rings out. “Ow!”

“You need to keep it braced tightly against your shoulder or it’s going to kick back. Try again.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“You have to try at least one more time, baby. I brought you all the way up here.”

I sigh and shoot again, keeping it snug to my shoulder this time but purposely missing the can. “Steven! I did it!”

“Well, you shot a round, that’s for sure.”

“I think I got real close.”

“How does it feel?”

“Fun.” That’s the truth. Maybe I’ll find a shooting range in Malaysia and make this a hobby.

His hands slide a little higher, until he’s grazing the bottoms of my breasts through the coat. “It’s hot watching you shoot.”

“Stop it.” The words leave my mouth too sharply, but he doesn’t notice. He just chuckles and I shoot once more, aiming a little closer. On the fourth shot I hit a can and whoop with joy. “I did it! I did it!”

“Good job, babe. But that doesn’t mean you can hit a moving animal.”

“No, but I can hit one that’s not moving!”

“It’ll be moving pretty fast by the time you get that fourth shot off.”

“I just need to practice.”

“Sure.” He takes the rifle from me and loads a new magazine. “There you go. Try again.”

He finally steps back and lets me shoot on my own. I take six more shots. On the last shots I’m really trying, and I hit the last two cans with no problem. If I do shoot Steven, he’ll likely be pretty close. I’m not concerned I’ll miss.

He takes the rifle from me and goes to set the cans again, apparently not trusting that I won’t kill him while he’s down there.

Smart move.

I could shoot him as soon as he gives the gun back to me and get this over with, but not here. A shooting accident in the woods would be better. I’m inexperienced and I saw movement and thought he was a deer.

If I just accidentally kill him standing right in front of me in this clearing, I could be charged with manslaughter or criminal negligence.

And if I’m going to bury his body somewhere and make him disappear, I can’t have his guts and blood all over the yard. Even I won’t be able to playact my way out of that one.

I fire off another ten shots or so, picturing Steven’s face as the cans. Then he wants a turn. His turn goes on for a while. I shoot another few rounds, but he gets bored with sharing and suggests we stop for lunch. “It’s almost noon already.”