I keep reading, running over the words, the names, the few dates that I’m able to make out. Most of the names are unknown to me, but one thing shines through – my brother’s remorse. His words are filled with self-loathing. Even when describing events he should have been proud of – his awards, his sporting achievements – everything seems tainted with anger at himself. I read through the vague, rambling journal entries, wishing I could get into his head beyond the feeling that he was simply broken. My poor sweet Kyle…the things he said…
School made me valedictorian. Whatever. What a farce. Vale-dick, more like. God, I had this shit.
Another meeting with Father and those pigs. They make me sick. I can’t believe he would get us mixed up in that shit. I feel so drenched in fucking filth.
Andy made me laugh this evening. My little doll! She’s such a bright light in my world.
Father said I need to give him an answer today. I don’t know what to do…
I can feel the anxiety and desperation in his words now. I can see past the loving smile he’d always put on when we were together. The way he’d hidden so much from me. I was his bright light.
He’d been my light, too.
“What did they make you do, Kyle?” I say brokenly. “And why did you do it?”
I close the book and set it back in the wooden box, then sink back in my chair with my mug clasped in both hands. I stare at the outline on the wall yet again, thinking of the man it represents and how I plan to end his miserable existence.
Right now, I think I’d like to shoot him in the nuts. Then, I’ll put a round in his pitch-black heart, and finally wipe that evil smirk off his face by blowing his head off. Though by then, he won’t be smirking. He’ll be screaming. Maybe begging for his life. God, I hope he does. I hope he begs and cries while I stand over him. I hope he pleads with me before he realizes there’s no coming back.
Mark Whitlock. It’s all his fault. And he’s going to pay.
Chapter 9
Mateo Ricci
Footsteps ring down the paving behind me as I leave my meeting with Raoul. When I pause and listen for them, they stop. I sink my hands into my pockets and start walking again. Behind me, the steady rhythm begins again.
I’m being followed.
Fuck.
I knew it would only be a matter of time. But still…there’s too much going on to have to deal with this shit now. I’m so close to finding Andy, I can almost taste it. Almost tasteher. Can imagine her in my arms again.
Dammit. Stop that crap, Ricci.
The woman left me. Aside from the humiliation of that damn wedding, she fucking left me…after I’d gone down on bended knee, for fuck’s sakes. In front of people who I call family. Didn’t she realize how much that meant?
But then again, why should she? I never revealed that side of myself to her after. It’s not like we had a conventional relationship – if you could call it that. All we really had was the sex.
But oh fuck, it was good.
I yank my head out of those memories and pull my attention back to the situation at hand. The footsteps have drawn nearer and as I reach the shadows of an unlit streetlight, I stop abruptly and spin to face them. My weapon is drawn, and I swing it up to head height. Whoever is after me is going to get their brains blown out.
I’m met by the wide, startled eyes of a pimply kid who does a double-take. He hoists shaking hands in the air and backs up a step.
“Woah! Mister!” he chokes out. “I ain’t done nuttin’!” He shakes his head. “I got no cash on me, but you can have my phone. It’s in my back pocket.”
Jesus Christ.
I lower the gun and see his throat move convulsively as he swallows.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve grown paranoid.
But are you paranoid enough?the old contractor line rattles in my head.
“Get the hell out of here, kid,” I grind out. He spins on his heel and bolts off the way he came. I heave out an unsteady breath. I nearly put a slug between his eyes.
Get a fucking grip, you ass.
