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Through different sources of hurt and darkness, Jacob and I had been shaped into similar monsters. But as broken as we were, neither of us had ever planned a murder.
Jacob took the lead, I was happy to let him.
He showed me the place where we would do it. He thought, if we surprised my uncle, we could overwhelm him together. It had to be fast, he explained. We couldn't be seen.
We sat and read as many crime novels as we could, all of them dusty and yellowed from his Gram's basement. We thought we were ready for what we were going to do.
There is nothing more exhilarating than ignorant pride.
Summer was fading. Soon, I'd be preparing for school, repeating the motions I had for years. Adults would notice I was quiet or uneasy, but never step in to help.
It didn't matter. I'd stopped worrying about my future in this cruddy town.
Like a slow storm, the day I'd been waiting for arrived.
It rolled in, a heavy air and tension pressing on my body. Jacob didn't look like he felt it, he was always so relaxed.
The construction on the new bridge had gone over a year, most of it barely finished. The sandbags would have a hard time holding back the river after the rainy season, though, so they'd increased their efforts lately.
There was little sun left, an angry purple bruise in the sky and orange as bright as sherbet. It reminded me of Jacob's birthday party, how he had felt bad I hadn't gotten a party for myself, so he'd cut my name into the top of the cake with his finger.
His Gram had been pissed, but we'd both laughed.
He was my best friend. I would do anything for him. I knew he would do the same for me.
Voices rose over the hill. My heart was frantic, familiar sweat dripping down my spine. It always happened when my uncle was near me.
In the distance, his eyes were glowing with rage. The sight of Jacob following after him gave me a burst of confidence.
Cresting the dirt road, Uncle Nick started shouting. “So you are here, you little shit!” Spittle flew from his greasy lips. He was moving faster than I expected. “Your little friend told me you were going to run away again! But jokes on you, he led me right to you, Kite!”
Fuck, he was moving towards me like a truck.
Under the fire of my uncle's rage, my plan—the plan—peeled back.
I was supposed to pull out the gun I'd stolen from his house. I'd known he kept it in the bedroom between his mattress springs, he'd never tried to hide it from me. I think he was proud of the weapon.
Shooting my uncle was supposed to be the easy part of the plan. We'd even hit some cans in the woods for practice before the sound of the blasts made us stop, scared someone would hear us and come snooping.
The pistol was weighing me down, doing nothing but giving me a rash where it rubbed between my belt and lower-back. Take it out, my mind screamed at me. Shoot him! Shoot him, do it!
I forgot about the gun. My fear was greater than anything else.
Lifting my hands, I started to cry. “I'm sorry! I wasn't really going to run!”
“Oh no?” he snorted, grabbing for the front of my shirt. We were near the edge of the ravine. If he wanted to, he could throw me right down into the bottom where the bulldozers rested. “You're coming home right now, Kite! You hear me? I'm going to make sure you never run again.”
My brain smacked around in my skull, he was shaking me violently. If we went home together tonight, he would have no remorse. He'd do things to me that would make me cry and vomit.
Inside, I fell apart.
I was no monster. I was just a beaten child.
He was still shaking me, shouting—and then it all stopped. Uncle Nick's grunt was loud, drowned out by a louder, wet 'crack.'
He dropped me, the wind kicking out of my body. Sitting there, I stared up as he spun, scrabbling at the back of his skull. There was blood dripping, smeared on his shirt.
Jacob held the rock high.
“You fucking piece of shit!” My screamed. He was breathing heavy, foam on his chin. He was as terrifying as a rabid grizzly bear.
Jacob's blue eyes shot to me, a beacon of warning.
Act now, he was saying, Or we both die here.
Fighting to breathe, I climbed to my feet. There was snot running down my nose, but I'd never felt so light in my life. The pistol was welcome in my hand.
There was no logic in me, just fight or flight and a visceral need to make him hurt.
To make him understand how I had hurt.
Revenge was all I cared about.
I raised the gun high and filled my lungs. Metal slammed down, catching my uncle on the neck. He screamed, falling forward in the dirt. Flecks of blood hit my cheek, but I didn't stop swinging.
I was as much a machine as the ones in the valley below.
Again and again, I hit him.
He was bigger, and powered by the realization that he was about to die. His leg came out, knocking me down. The gun bounced away, jingling on the gravel.