I don’t hear anything but the blood pumping in my ears.
I’m not aware of anything but the way his flesh feels so thin under my hands.
Without thinking, I lean down and pick up the gun, prying it from his fingers as he groans and grunts. I press more of my weight onto his neck, cutting him off from saying anything else.
Without warning, without fanfare, without a big final speech, I stuff the barrel in his mouth, angle it upward, and pull the trigger.
The shot is loud, but more muffled than I thought. His blood splatters all over my face like warm rain and I snap my mouth shut before even a drop of this fucker can enter my body.
Immediately the tension and fight underneath my knees leave and I’m just… pinning down a corpse.
Holding my breath and the sounds of the open silence all around me are suddenly overwhelming. I can hear the wind and the crickets, my blood rushing throughout my body, the way the soil settles as I lose all strength in my body and fall to the ground, scrambling from the body.
A stench fills my nose and I look over to see Mickey pissing himself. Or in reality, all the muscles in his body are relaxing because he can’t control them anymore.
Because I killed him.
I have to get out of here.
I pick up the gun and with shaking hands, grab my phone. There’s only one person I can call.
It rings twice, and someone on the other end picks up. There’s a moment of silence before a dark voice answers.
“Si?”
CHAPTER 33
SIX WEEKS LATER
“You sure you’re okay, hun?”Harriet’s hovering and it’s driving me crazy. Instead of saying anything though, I’m just going to grit my teeth and bear it. She’s been the only one who’s given two shits about me since that night.
Asher checks in every once in a while, and I see him at work, but I haven’t heard a thing from Ty.
Not since he told me I was nothing and gave me this concussion. I’m really thinking I’m going to have some kind of brain damage from all these concussions in quick succession.
But that’s a future Roxie’s problem.
He hasn’t even been to work. Asher just keeps telling me he’s busy, that he’ll be back, but even if he comes back… What am I supposed to say?
“I’m okay, Harriet, I promise,” I smile softly at the kind pseudo-mother, and grab my backpack by the door. “Asher said he’ll let me just sit behind the front desk and he’s turning the background music down. I’ll wear my dark sunglasses. I promise, I’m feeling better.” Ever since Asher carried me into her apartment, unconscious and bleeding, she’s been astonishingly kind and taking care of me in a way I’ve always wished a mother would take care of me.
We’ve gotten very close these past few weeks, but I do need to make some money to contribute. She’s let me slide on rent and has brought me leftovers from the diner. But I can feel that I’m draining her. Not just financially, but I can see she’s worried. She’s not sleeping because I’m up with headaches.
Apparently after fighting and too many blows to the head, one well placed hit can cause migraines. Who knew?Mentally rolling my eyes because, of course, this would happen.
“Please,” I say softly, putting my hand on her shoulder, “rest if you can. I’ll be quiet when I come home.”
A soft, knowing smile builds from the corner of her lips until a full one breaks out and she covers my hand with hers.
“Don’t let that boy keep you there longer than a few hours. I’m worried about these migraines.”
I nod, knowing that’s as much as an “okay I’ll rest” as I’ll get from her.
“I know. I’ll be back soon,” I say and give her a reassuring nod before closing the door behind me.
I just need some fresh air. Some time alone to figure out what I’m actually feeling.
I… I hate not knowing where I stand. I hate not feeling secure in myself. I always used to trust my instincts. But that instinct told me to trust Ty and… Well, that worked out like a fucking punch to the gut.
