“Something was wrong—off. Marni was too calm and she looked…vacant. I was on edge and jittery. I expected attitude and anger, not a passive attitude. Then—”
“Then?” I prompted gently.
“We got ready to roll and she did something strange. She lifted the glass with the water in it and drank it. The set director started to come toward her and she laughed, waving him off and lifted the bottle she had with her saying sorry, she’d fill it herself. She made a joke that she was thirsty and forgot; everyone sort of laughed—she was known for being a little different, eccentric, that way.” He turned to face me, not moving. I felt like the naked pain on his face was holding me in my seat. “But everything felt wrong, the hair on the back of my neck was standing up and I was jumpy. I felt as though I was on a precipice, waiting, but I didn’t know what I was waiting for.”
“Did you say anything?”
He shook his head. “Everyone was tense on set. They all knew what had happened between Marni and me, so no one was really comfortable that day. I told myself I was being paranoid. It was the final scene and I was anxious for it to be done. That was all.”
“But it wasn’t your imagination, was it?”
“No. We went through the scene up to the point of her throwing the water at me, and then we were ready to go.” Zachary let out a deep sigh. “The cameras started rolling and we both slipped into our characters. It was perfect—both of us were on our mark. The last part of the scene, Marni picked up her glass and looked at me.” Zachary’s hand lifted to his face in an unconscious gesture of defense. “Her eyes were cold and determined and so fucking filled with insanity…that I knew. I knew right then something was going to happen.”
His words were coming faster now, his accent more pronounced, his hands clenching and unclenching. “I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t move. It was as if I was watching it from outside my body—looking in, and powerless to stop it.” His breath started coming out in small gasps. “It was all choreographed. I was supposed to stand there and take it. Let her throw the water at me and not move; be stoic. We’d rehearsed it enough, I could watch the water come at me and not even blink. But it wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. As soon as she tossed the contents of the glass my arm came up.” His hands balled into fists, his entire body trembling now.
“What was it?”
“Vodka. What everyone thought was water was alcohol; she replaced the water she drank with straight vodka. It hit my face, burning my eye and soaking into my shirt.
“Before I could react or anyone else realized what was happening, she picked up a lit candle”—he swallowed and lowered his voice—“and set me on fire.”
My stomach lurched and I covered my mouth as I stared at him in horror. Not only had she done all that, but she’d planned it.
Zachary’s eyes were wide, filled with the emotion of his terrible memories. He braced himself against the wall with one shaking arm.
“It happened so fast. Chaos broke out. I fell down, screaming in pain, Marni was ranting and shouting, trying to stop people from getting to me. The accelerant was everywhere so fire was burning on the set, as well as me. All I vaguely remember is the screaming and shouting as people rushed around.” His voice became gritty with emotion. “I remember the smell of my flesh burning. The pain overtook me and I blacked out.”
“And Marni?”
Zachary’s head shook slightly, as if he was trying to clear his mind. His chest heaved with a large puff of air.
“She killed herself.”* * *I shook with nerves. I’d never felt so cold in my life as I huddled into the blanket, my body physically reacting as Zachary’s words kept repeating in my head—a constant unending circle. So many emotions raged within me. Grief and sorrow for Zachary’s suffering. I felt a fierce, almost primal anger toward a woman I never met, for inflicting such horror and pain onto another person, then in a cowardly act, taking her own life. I drew the blanket closer; my hands gripping the soft material so tight my knuckles were white as I struggled not to be overwhelmed. I needed to be calm for Zachary when he returned.
After he told me Marni had killed herself, he had locked down. “I have to walk. I have to go. I need—”
I only nodded, unable to stop him. He paused at the door. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders lost a little of their tension and he called for both dogs, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone with the deafening silence. I had no idea how long he’d be gone, but I knew this time he would be coming back. I had to wait for him and be here when he did. I had to be strong for him.