"I don't know any Jesus dude!"
She'd won the day. She made it out alive, lies intact. Now she can take her millions and do anything she wants. Sunshine and roses until the day she dies - that was the plan anyway.
What she really had was darkness. Before, in the cage of lies of her marriage she at least had a direction: get money and get out. The dreams she sold herself of the paradise to come nursed her along for years, waiting for the right moment. And now it is here. And she's more afraid than ever.
"I'm useless."
She feared the crowd would turn on her for wasting life. Excuses are gone, what's wrong with you. She lived in an inescapable blackness. Money was supposed to set her free. Free to be...nothing.
Manufactured meaning failed to release her. Soup kitchens, volunteering - whatever. Nothing filled the hole inside. The idea of another marriage was completely out of the question. That door must remain forever shut.
But with that she shut out the whole of the world. Polite responses and posed smiles during the day made for harrowing loneliness in the middle of the deep night. Yes, she'd gotten away - but didn't get to anywhere. In the movies, this is where she's supposed to be celebrating and taking revenge for a life missed. Instead, it's where she found out she'd been at fault all along.
Of all the state secrets she'd held in her life, this was the worst. Stripped of her victimhood, her supporters would turn on her in vicious betrayal. Her felonious deeds would be made public, to forever live with a cold shoulder from the world. She'd wander the earth in permanent solitary confinement, a liar never to be trusted. "Just who are you, lady?" But unlike Peter of old, her denials would be without end.
Then she decided to her horror: "I must support Trump."
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