_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

she?” The smile is slipping from his face and I’m getting a bad feeling
about this, a very bad feeling. I get to my feet and take a step towards the
door, but he’s there in front of me, his hands gripping my arms, and he
pushes me back into the chair.
“Sit the fuck down.” He grabs my handbag from my shoulder and
throws it into the corner of the room.
“Scott, I don’t know what’s going on—”
“Come on!” he shouts, leaning over me. “You and Megan were such
good friends! You must have known about all her lovers!”
He knows. And as the thought comes to me, he must see it in my face
because he leans in closer, his breath rancid in my face, and says, “Come
on, Rachel. Tell me.”
I shake my head and he swings a hand out, catching the beer bottle in
front of me. It rolls off the table and smashes on the tiled floor.
“You never even fucking met her!” he yells. “Everything you said to
me—everything was a lie.”
Ducking my head, I get to my feet, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
I’m trying to get round the table, to retrieve my handbag, my phone, but
he grabs my arm again.
“Why did you do this?” he asks. “What made you do this? What is
wrong with you?”
He’s looking at me, his eyes locked on mine, and I’m terrified of him,
but at the same time I know that his question isn’t unreasonable. I owe
him an explanation. So I don’t pull my arm away, I let his fingers dig
into my flesh and I try to speak clearly and calmly. I try not to cry. I try
not to panic.
“I wanted you to know about Kamal,” I tell him. “I saw them together,
like I told you, but you wouldn’t have taken me seriously if I’d just been
some girl on the train. I needed—”
“You needed!” He lets go of me, turning away. “You’re telling me
what you needed . . .” His voice is softer, he’s calming down. I breathe
deeply, trying to slow my heart.
“I wanted to help you,” I say. “I knew that the police always suspect
the husband, and I wanted you to know—to know there was someone
else . . .”
“So you made up a story about knowing my wife? Do you have any
idea how insane you sound?”
“I do.”
I walk over to the kitchen counter to pick up a dishcloth, then get
down on my hands and knees and clean up the spilled beer. Scott sits,