Woman Down

“My fingers are trembling on the steering wheel. I move my hand to the door in search of the button to roll down the window. As soon as it’s far enough down for my head to stick out, I breathe in the fresh, pine-scented air and close my eyes, repeating slow breaths until my stomach begins to ease.”

The physical details of Petra’s trembling hands and controlled breathing emphasize how her anxiety manifests. Nature momentarily functions as a coping mechanism, as the “fresh, pine-scented air” returns her to reality, but this calm is fragile and temporary. The moment signals that Petra is already overwhelmed before the cabin’s dangers truly emerge.

“My thumb brushes over the small canister as I slip it into my pocket, the cold metal comforting in its weight. I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense trees that seem to swallow the road behind me, and even though I’m pretty sure I could take this guy down if things went south, I’m not sure anyone would hear me out here screaming for help.”

Petra arrives at the cabin and spots Louie, then takes the Mace out of her pocket as a source of comfort. This moment foreshadows the danger of the cabin that Petra thought would serve as a retreat—even though, in reality, Louie presents no danger. The dense trees swallowing the road metaphorically mirror her growing entrapment, closing off her exit route.

“No matter how much I try to hide from being Petra Rose, I’m here. I’m there. I’m every-fucking-where. On the cover of People, on the home pages of E! News and TMZ, on podcasts with only two thousand followers. Whatever pays the bills, I guess.”

These words introduce the theme of The Negative Effects of Popularity and Fame, as Petra’s repetition conveys the inescapability of fame, even as she attempts to physically withdraw. The profanity underscores her resentment and exhaustion, while her resigned “Whatever pays the bills” reflects how financial success has overridden her personal comfort. Fame is presented as omnipresent, rather than empowering.

“At this rate, I’ll be stuck in this cabin-with-an-identity-crisis for an entire year, perpetually reworking the same five paragraphs while the cursor blinks at me like a tiny, judgmental oracle. If cursors could talk, mine would be chanting, ‘You suck—give up,’ just to really drive the point home.”

The personification of the cursor as a “judgmental oracle” externalizes Petra’s self-doubt, transforming writer’s block into an antagonistic force. The humor masks genuine despair, showing how creative stagnation has threatened her identity as a writer. This moment links ambition to anxiety, lending motivational insight into Petra’s future willingness to go to great lengths to overcome the writer’s block that stops her.

“But even with the disorienting light, there’s one thing I can tell for sure— this is not your stereotypical donut-and-coffee-for-breakfast kind of cop. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and muscular, the kind of guy who looks like he spends more time in a gym than a precinct.”

The emphasis on Saint’s physicality immediately sexualizes and idealizes him, shifting attention away from his professional role and his strange presence at her cabin in the night. By focusing on appearance, Petra subconsciously reframes him as a fantasy figure, contributing to The Blurred Line Between Fantasy and Reality and reintroducing the idea of Petra as an unreliable narrator. This description plants the seeds for her later confusion between danger and attraction.

“I feel my stomach drop, and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, a subconscious effort to ward off the sudden chill that seems to have swept through the room. I blow out a slow, shaky breath, trying to wrap my mind around what he’s just said. Self-inflicted. Someone came this close to my cabin—this close to me—and ended their life.”

The repetition of “this close” underscores the violation of Petra’s perceived safety, collapsing the distance between Petra and death with the danger it entails. Her instinctive self-protective gestures reveal fear before reason can intervene. This moment heightens psychological tension by transforming an abstract threat into something intimate and personal, encroaching on her perceived safety in the isolation of her cabin.

“I lean against the counter, a genuine smile spreading across my face. ‘Nore. He was…so hot. And his name is even hot. Detective Nathaniel Saint.’ I let the name hang in the air, relishing it.

Another gasp, even louder this time. ‘Stop it. That is such a book-boyfriend name. You have to be making this up.’”

As Petra describes Saint to Nora, this moment marks an early instance of fantasy overtaking caution, developing the theme of the blurred line between fantasy and reality. This metafictional commentary on his name, in which they recognize both its allure and its reference to an archetypal figure, blurs the line even further, as Hoover has chosen the name as a “book-boyfriend” name. Additionally, this conversation foreshadows the revelation that Saint is lying about who he is, as Nora points out the overly perfect feeling of his name.

“I don’t flirt with other women’s men. I’ve always drawn a firm line there. But then again, this isn’t about me. Reya—my character—would flirt with him. That’s how her affair with Cam begins in the book, after all. She latches on to every flirtatious smile he throws her way, turning it into a game, letting it pull her deeper into the affair that eventually consumes her.”

Petra’s rationalization hinges on her adoption of Reya’s persona; she says, ‘this isn’t about me,’ even though it is her reaction to Saint and her desire to flirt. By invoking Reya, she transfers moral responsibility onto fiction, allowing herself to cross boundaries indirectly and blur the line between fantasy and reality as moral justification.

“I realize, as he kisses me again with a smile, that he sees me. He truly sees me, beyond Reya, beyond Cam, beyond the initial physical attraction. He sees Petra, the struggling author, and he’s offered me a listening ear instead of just another nosy inquisition.”

The repetition of “he sees me” reveals Petra’s deep craving for recognition beyond her public persona. Saint’s validation feels authentic because it bypasses scrutiny and expectation. This emotional intimacy becomes more powerful—and dangerous—than physical attraction.

“Once I’m in my car and backing out of the driveway, an unsettling fear slips over me. There isn’t a single person in the world who knows where I’m heading right now.”

The stark realization that no one knows Petra’s location as she leaves for her date at the restaurant with Saint emphasizes her isolation through a single, chilling thought. The simplicity of the sentence structure mirrors the clarity of the danger she momentarily acknowledges. Petra’s discomfort again foreshadows the danger that she is truly in, even if Petra herself ignores her own vulnerability beyond a surface acknowledgment.

“I just watch him retreat, slipping back into the Saint I’m used to. The man who always seems to be running from something, even when he’s standing still.

I pull out my phone after having that thought and jot it down as a note for my book. The man who always seems to be running from something, even when he’s standing still.”

Petra’s immediate impulse to record Saint as material illustrates how writing mediates her perception of reality. By duplicating the sentence verbatim, the text shows how observation becomes appropriation, underscoring the theme of the blurred line between fantasy and reality. Petra’s willingness to mine her life for material is established with passages like these, a continuing characteristic of hers throughout the novel.

“I strip off my clothes with shaky hands and step into the shower, my breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts as hot water hits my skin. The water is close to scalding, but I don’t care. I let it beat down on my, hoping—praying—that it will somehow wash away the fear, the confusion, the overwhelming sense of betrayal that’s consuming me from the inside out.”

After Saint ties up Petra and subsequently frees her, she retreats to the shower for refuge. The scalding water serves as a metaphor for Petra’s desire to purge her fear and emotional turbulence through physical sensation. Her inability to “wash away” betrayal underscores the limits of bodily control over psychological trauma.

“Part of me thinks I should tell him to go. That I need space to process what just happened, to get a handle on my emotions. But I can’t bring myself to say the words. As much as I was terrified of him a few minutes ago, it wasn’t him I was scared of. It was the character he was playing. The situation we both created, however unintentionally.”

Petra’s fear shifts from Saint himself to the “character he was playing,” revealing her confusion about responsibility and agency while highlighting the theme of the blurred line between fantasy and reality. Additionally, her choice to frame the situation as mutually created diffuses blame and minimizes danger. This rationalization keeps her tethered to him, excusing his actions through both fictional attachment and self-blame.

“I fought with everything I had earlier, and he reacted like I wasn’t even trying. Knowing he would use that strength to protect me feels comforting.”

As Petra reconciles with Saint and reflects on his actions when he tied her up, she notes his strength. Ironically, she thinks of it as a positive, noting how it is “comforting” to think that he could “protect” her. However, she fails to acknowledge that he used that very strength moments ago to restrain her and tie her up, emphasizing the psychological complexity of her attraction and her extreme willingness to ignore the danger he presents.

“That’s Shephard’s car.

Shit.

Shit, fuck, shit!

What is he doing here? This was supposed to be my time, my space to write, to disconnect from everything else, including my family. Especially my family. Oh, God. Did he bring the girls with him?”

This moment marks the first time in the text that Petra reveals that she is married with children. This revelation serves as a plot twist, complicating her character’s morality even further as she is having an affair, not just enabling Saint’s affair. In this moment, her family becomes an intrusion on the fantasy she has built for herself, and reality intrudes, causing her to react not with happiness at seeing her family but with anger.

“[Shephard] pulls the door open, and it’s as if I can literally see my family dissolving like a sandcastle hit by a rogue wave. The foundation we’ve built, the life we’ve shared, all of it feels impossibly fragile, like it could shatter with just one wrong word, one wrong look, one perfectly delivered lie.”

In this moment, Saint is outside, knocking on the door as Petra spends time with Shephard and her daughters. The simile that compares her family to a sandcastle conveys the fragility of Petra’s domestic life under the deception she has built. The inevitability of collapse suggests that her lies have already begun to erode her life, emphasizing how quickly stability can dissolve.

“I smile, I nodded, I asked the girls about their week at school, all while feeling like I’d just earned the World’s Worst Wife and Mother of the Century aware. I can feel it, a tarnished invisible medal hanging heavy around my neck.”

The sarcastic “award” Petra imagines reflects her acute guilt and acts as a metaphor for her internalized shame. At the same time, the idea of these awards supports a point about Petra’s character that has persisted throughout the text: She considers her value and worth in terms of how others view her. She thinks of herself receiving this award, focusing on how she is portrayed over her personal feelings of shame.

“I feel Shephard’s presence beside me, the warmth of his leg brushing against mine under the covers. It should feel intimate, connecting, but instead, it feels mechanical, a practiced proximity. We’re both just going through the motions, like every other night. A quiet, familiar dance of habit and assumption.”

Petra gets into bed with Shephard, noting their nightly routine. Describing this intimacy as “mechanical” strips it of emotional meaning, instead reducing it to habit and routine, highlighting her disconnection from her husband. The metaphor of dance emphasizes rote performance, contrasting with the intensity of her connection to Saint.

“I feel utterly exposed, incredibly vulnerable, like the very walls of my supposedly safe space have been irrevocably breached, and I have absolutely no control over what happens next. The familiar, quiet cabin suddenly feels like a cage.”

After Petra says goodbye to her family, she turns back to the cabin and is shocked to find Saint already standing in the doorway. This moment transforms the cabin from refuge to a metaphorical cage, emphasizing Petra’s loss of control. Again, however, Petra ignores these feelings of danger and discomfort,  willingly going back into the cabin and resuming her affair with Saint, committing to it even more deeply than before.

“I walk back toward the house, every muscle in my back tense. I finally hear him start the car and pull away.

I walk straight into the house and to the bathroom. I lock the door and do everything I can not to have a complete meltdown.

This is my home.

I think he might be crazy.

I think I might be crazy.”

After Petra loses the safety of her cabin, Saint violates her life further with his appearance at her home and infiltration of her personal life. The parallel thoughts—“I think he might be crazy. / I think I might be crazy.”—collapse certainty entirely. In this moment, reality becomes suspect, as Petra can no longer be certain who is responsible for the situation she is in and, more importantly, how to escape it.

“A storm has arrived. Her name is Mari. Her umbrella made it inside before she did, but now the wind has picked up her orange curls, and they’re flying in a circle above her head as we both go to push the door shut. The wind is coming directly against the front of the cabin, making the storm seem worse than it is. It has been howling and thundering on and off for two days now.”

Just hours before Petra discovers the truth of Saint’s identity, a storm rages on the lake, metaphorically reflecting the chaos that is about to be unleashed on her life. The external chaos also mirrors Petra’s impending internal turmoil, foreshadowing the precariousness of her situation. The extreme winds and the cabin’s location “making the storm seem worse than it is” reflect Petra’s heightened psychological state, sitting at the center of a storm with Saint that she can sense even before it hits.

“I glance between Bill and Louie, my pulse racing, my hands shaking. How do these two not know who he is? They’re acting like Saint doesn’t exist, like the man I’ve been spending my nights with is some kind of ghost. But he’s real. I’ve kissed him. I’ve touched him. I’ve slept next to him. […] The questions begin to pile up, one after another, overwhelming me.”

Petra’s insistence on Saint’s physical reality contrasts with others’ denial in the grocery store, where she first discovers that he is not a police officer in this town. This moment intensifies her disorientation, a fact which is conveyed through her first-person narration and the description of her thoughts in this moment. Ultimately, the accumulation of proof around her clashes with the fantasy she has built, emphasizing just how much she has fallen into the trap of blurring the line between fantasy and reality.

“I hate myself right now. I hate that I feel like two different people, warring over a monster. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just run? Why can’t I just push him away or do something other than stand here, frozen under his gaze? Quit being stupid, Petra! This isn’t a fucking book.”

Petra’s self-directed anger reveals her fractured identity, in which she feels “like two different people.” After she discovers who Saint is and confronts him with the truth, she still battles with her own attraction and her own self-implication in the events of his betrayal. Her violent insistence that “This isn’t a fucking book” marks a moment of clarity in the theme of the blurred line between fantasy and reality, as she acknowledges for the first time how she has endangered herself by pretending that she and Saint are simply Reya and Cam.