His face is completely serious now. “So what if I did? They deserved it. Every second of pain.”
“They were stupid, young guys just like me.” I punch my own leg because I don’t have anything else to punch. I’d be stupid to hurt anyone in this car right now. I’m in the minority, and dying is the last on my list of things to do today.
Still, I can’t shake this feeling that I should’ve done something to stop them. The pain should’ve stopped with me.
But it’s too late now. I can’t take back what’s done. I can’t undo the suffering I’ve caused the Burrells. And most of all … Dixie.
Fuck.
I swallow away the sourness lingering on my tongue. “Now I’m a murderer …”
And Dixie will hate me forever.
She saw me.
She fucking saw my face the moment I was about to kill Ben.
They’re dead because of me, and she knows it as well as I do.
Is she with them now, grieving beside their dead bodies?
Does she hate me for what I’ve become?
“You did what you had to do,” my uncle says with a stern voice, pulling me from my thoughts. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“I’m only eighteen. I was supposed to make something of my life. Now I’m gonna go to jail as a teen,” I reply, sweat dripping down my back.
“Who said you’ll go to jail?” he says. “I’m not letting anyone get their hands on my nephew.” He rubs my head, messing my hair. “You did good.”
I swat him away. “Stop! Don’t do that.”
“What?” He shrugs as if he doesn’t even know what I’m talking about.
“Don’t talk about it as if it’s the most normal thing in the world,” I say. “It’s not.”
“Doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t. They committed a horrible crime, and you know it, so you took revenge. The end. Case closed.” He holds out his hand. “Can I have my knife back now?”
I stare him down for a few seconds before searching in my pockets. It takes me a while to actually hand it back to him. It’s not without regrets, but what other choice do I have?
I’m in a van with a bunch of killers, and the only thing sitting between me and them is my uncle. I need to stay on his good side.
“What am I supposed to do now, huh?” I say, still upset that he thinks so lightly of all this. “I can’t go back to that town. I can’t go back to the shop. I can’t go anywhere.”
My uncle nods a few times. “I understand. I’ve lost something important to me too, Brandon,” he says, gazing up from underneath his lashes. The look on his face is dead serious.
I take a deep breath, my nostrils flaring. “At least you still have the rest of the people at the reserve …”
“I don’t live there anymore, Brandon,” he says, cocking his head.
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t?”
“I prefer the casino hotel,” he says, shrugging. “I never was a man for the countryside. Sue me.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Well, lucky you.”
“You can come too,” he says, catching my attention again. “If you want to, of course. No pressure.”
Is he inviting me to come live with him?
“I don’t know,” I say, still trying to think of a better option, but I’ve got none.
There’s no place for me anymore.
Not in that town. Not in my papa’s shop. Not at school. Not that motel. And definitely nowhere near the Burrells.
That ship has sailed. I’m closing that chapter for good.
Dixie Burrell must see me as the enemy now. Probably better if she does.
I don’t fucking deserve anyone’s love right now.
“I’ll get you a job at the casino. Give you a place to stay,” uncle says, winking. “C’mon, it’ll be good.”
“What about school?” I ask, still trying to salvage something of my life.
“School?” He laughs, folding his arms. “You’re a man now, Brandon. Time to act like one.”
No one has ever called me a man.
Yet I like it. It sounds like it belongs with my name.
Brandon Locklear.
A not so innocent boy … because boys don’t kill people.
Men do.
*
Present
That night I was forced to become a man still haunts me to this very day.
I’m not innocent, and I won’t pretend to be. Both of us deserve the unaltered, naked truth. But can we face it? Can I look myself in the eyes without the guilt staring right back at me?
I can’t.
The man in the mirror shows me the monster I truly am.
I glare at my hands as she spits more words at me. “Why? Tell me why?”
Her voice sounds wounded, laced with visceral pain that cuts me like a sharp knife.
“I can’t,” I mutter.
I know what I did was wrong. Completely and utterly vile.
But it had to be done.
I make a fist with my hands. “They deserved what was coming for them.” And I turn to face her. “And so do you.”
“What? Why? I didn’t do shit!” she yells, her eyes watery from the mere mention of her brothers. But I know she feels it too … the shame eating us up from the inside out.
“You know exactly why,” I reply through gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking ask me again.”
When she parts her lips, I show her the metallic Zippo I kept all these years. It’s still stained with blood.
“This. Remember this?” I hiss.
Her pupils dilate, and she instantly slams her lips together, swallowing. That’s it. That’s the look. The one that’s haunted me all these years.
Blame.
That’s what this is all about.
But we didn’t come here for that. Our meeting was a chance encounter, and I refuse to let it devolve into a who-did-what. She bombed my uncle’s hotel, and she should pay for it. End of.
I just haven’t figured out when, where … and how.
I tuck the Zippo back into my pocket and shake my head. “I’m going out.”
“To do what?” she asks as I march toward the door.
“None of your business,” I reply, still angry over the fact she made me confront my own sins. “Now stay here. If you even attempt to escape, I will find you, and I promise you … I won’t be merciful.”
“Oh, and what are you going to do then?” she says with a courageous voice. “Finally kill me?”
I sigh. Always the sassy girl ready to put up a fight.