II.

Jigsaw didn’t take a break for holidays.

Amanda wished Evie understood that, but of course she couldn’t tell her. They’d only been dating for about ten months now—knowing someone for less than a year wasn’t a good enough reason to risk John’s safety like that, no matter how intimately familiar she was with the other woman. It was getting difficult to excuse herself to carry out the work, though. 

There was a constant, nagging fear sitting in the pit of her stomach every time Evie’s eyebrow quirked or her grin grew sharp. Words were like knives on Evie’s tongue sometimes, and Amanda remained impressed by the confidence that she wielded them with, even when they were used to stab holes into Amanda’s lies. Evie wouldn’t accept her evasive answers about her job, her mentor, or her living situation anymore. Amanda tried not to put a countdown on their relationship, but she doubted they had more than a few weeks left before she would have to pull the plug.

First, it was Evie making her disappointment at Amanda abandoning her Christmas party known. Then it was Evie’s pointed cold shoulder on January 2nd. They spent the entire day together, but Evie didn’t say more than three words to Amanda the whole time—she only looked at her with a sad disdain. After that, the razor-sharp questions started rolling in: What are you doing with John today? And Where did you get the money for this? And Did John get to see you wearing that, or just me? 

The whole thing was getting to Amanda in ways she knew it shouldn’t. Evie’s clear jealousy of John was confusing and difficult to navigate by itself, without the added worry about keeping her and John’s identities safe so they could continue their work. With each passing day, Amanda realized more and more how stupid she’d been to think she could have an attachment like this. Evie’s involvement in her life was rapidly revealing itself to be her downfall. 

It all came to a head on the night of February 14th. Amanda had stopped at her shell of an apartment for a change of clothes before she could join John in getting ready for their next game. The comforting cover of midnight put her at ease as she skulked to the door.

“What the hell, Amanda?” 

…But of course that comfort couldn’t last. Her keys clattering to the ground sounded more like a firing squad as she stared her girlfriend down in the shadow of her front door. Evie’s face was twisted in a frown, and Amanda’s stomach dropped. 

After too many seconds of silence, she finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I stopped by because I wanted to surprise my girlfriend with takeout on Valentine’s Day after we couldn’t spend time together for hours, only to discover that my girlfriend isn’t even home yet. Were you out with John?”

Amanda scowled, “You knew I was busy today, and you didn’t tell me you were coming, of course I wasn’t home.” She grabbed her keys off the floor and angrily pushed them into the lock, gesturing for Evie to follow her inside. “I’m still busy, by the way. I was just coming to grab something.”

“You’re still busy?” Evie asked. “I haven’t eaten all day, wanting to spend a nice night with you, and you can’t even give me that?” 

“I told you I was doing stuff today!” 

“Doing stuff. With John, you mean,” Evie growled.

Amanda rounded on her, “So what if I was?”

“So what if you were with your creepy old man instead of your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day? Gee, I don’t know, Amanda, what kind of message do you think that sends to me?” 

“Augh!” Amanda barely stopped herself from kicking her shitty card table down in frustration. This argument was months old at this point, they’d gone through every note of it, but no matter how often this song and dance happened, Evie never listened. “I’ve told you it’s not like that, why do you never believe me?” 

“Does John tell you it’s not like that? He seems to tell you everything else about life.” 

“That’s because he’s my mentor,” Amanda said through gritted teeth. “He teaches me things. But I know enough about the world to know I’m not fucking cheating on you with the man who’s the only real father I’ve ever had, so you should shut the hell up about him already.”

Evie’s eyes were cold, her expression hard. Her long nails dug into Amanda’s skin when she grabbed her arm to lock Amanda in place. “The fact that you can’t see it means your daddy issues run deeper that I thought. I don’t know why I ever bothered trying to make you understand in the first place. He’s a disgusting old creep and you’re his disgusting little plaything.” Her grip was vice-like. “You both make me sick.” 

And Amanda couldn’t stand it anymore—she couldn’t stand any of it. Not Evie’s words, not her voice, not the way she looked Amanda in the eye when she spoke with such conviction. It was all too much. 

So Amanda did the thing she always did when it was too much.

She fought back.

Except this time, the target wasn’t her scarred thighs or needle-punctured arm. The target was holding her hostage in her own goddamn apartment. Amanda roared and tackled Evie to the cheap carpeted floor.

Obviously caught off guard, Evie fell with an oof and Amanda got a good grip on her hair when they landed in a heap. When she started pulling, Evie caught on to what was happening and gave a roar of her own. Both women started scratching and pulling at each other, rolling around to try to get the advantage. 

Distantly, Amanda realized that she would need to find a new hardware supply store. And a new apartment, while she was at it. Probably a new name for a few years at least. Evie knew so much about her life, no matter how much she tried to keep it secret. Nothing could stay the same after this.

Nails scratched at her ears and a trickle of blood flowed freely into Amanda’s right eye, but she was getting her fair share of scratches in back. She swiped her bitten-off fingernails across Evie’s shoulder and tugged at her short dyed-black hair. It was hard for Amanda to tell how much time had passed since they collapsed on the ground. 

The only thing she could hear were their panted breaths roaring in her ears. Every pained grunt was swallowed by the adrenaline. Maybe Evie was trying to talk, worm her way out with her charming words like Amanda had watched her do so many times before, but Amanda’s anger closed her off to the manipulation. Nothing mattered but the blood and sweat and bruises, not placating words or Evie’s pretty eyes or her full lips. 

The struggle felt like it lasted for hours. Amanda entered a vicious cycle: hair tug, scratch, push, hair tug, scratch, push over and over again. Evie gave as good as she got, but Amanda could feel her strength waning. Amanda was going to win for once. 

Then, just as suddenly as Amanda had leapt at her, Evie collapsed on to the floor. Her hands went limp clawed against Amanda’s arms, her eyes rolling back and closing rapidly. Her breathing evened out. There was something almost…peaceful about it. The surprise broke Amanda out of the mindlessness of the fight and into the mess of a reality she’d landed herself in.

Oh… Oh fuck.

First step, before Evie could stir (she said she hadn’t eaten all day—she’d passed out like this before in front of Amanda. She only had a few more seconds before Evie came to), Amanda opened her kitchen drawer and grabbed the sedative she kept buried underneath a pile of junk. With expert precision, she stuck the needle into Evie’s thigh and watched her woozily blinking eyes shut again, this time firmly. 

The immediate problem was dealt with. Now Amanda just needed to figure out everything else. What was John going to say when he found out how badly she’d fucked up? How was she supposed to look him in the eye knowing this loose end of a failed relationship could bring it all down because of her pathetic need to be liked? How could she fix this?

But as soon as the thought occurred to her, Amanda realized that the answer was staring her in the face. A few minutes later, pulling on the pig mask she always kept in a locked box in her closet, Amanda knew exactly what she needed to do.