The last thing I hear before I sink my final drop of whiskey is that I got away with killing both of my parents when Chief Wynston’s car starts and disappears in the same direction it arrived.
A knock startles me awake.
My bones creak with the groaning timber beneath. I peel my eyelids back, see that the blades of sunlight are no longer violent, replaced by something ordinary and gray.
A second thud beats at my temples when the same knock comes again. It enters my ears and ricochets between the walls of my skull, demonstrating a reverb of the cruelest kind.
I was used to drinking.
But not like this.
I hadn’t drunk to numb before,to forget.
I don’t hear the door opening around the persistent thumping that has taken residence in my head until arms reach toward me.
There are four, two on either side, but it looks as if there are eight swaying and swarming around me, tentacles guiding me to my feet. I try to blink around what feels like a handful of sand, squeezing my eyelids shut to move the sharp granules, only making it worse.
“Why them,” I mumble, and it isn’t so much a question, but when I start to cry, repeating the same two words, Rusty and Harlen make sure to grip me that little bit tighter, guiding me toward the bathroom.
Rusty takes my entire deadweight when Harlen reaches into the shower and turns it on.
“We got you, son,” Rusty’s voice cracks, and I continue to repeat the same words,why them, over and over again until I’m placed on my ass, beneath the stream of water. My clothes soak through instantly.
Rusty pinches his son’s shoulder and sees himself out, and Harlen takes a seat beneath the towel rail, his legs drawn in front of him.
“You don’t have to…” I try to speak around the water that gurgles through my throat.
“Yeah, yeah, I do, brother,” Harlen’s words are so quiet.
And I feel my throat tightening when I try to whisper but nothing comes out. Rubbing my trembling palms down the length of my now drenched face, I look up at Harlen, find his eyes on the ceiling, the rear of his head pushed back.
“Hurts, man,” I rasp, and it’s the only truth I can get out without crying.
And when Harlen drops his chin, turns and looks at me, I can see it’s hurting him too.
I suck back the lingering steam that melts through the air of the now stuffy bathroom, dropping the towel that hangs low on my waist to my bare feet.
Harlen left a pile of dry clothes for me outside the door, and I step into the gray sweatpants before pulling down the T-shirt, laying the black hoodie over top.
My palms are shaking. I press them to the vanity, stare into the gray raw stone bowl that sits atop the flecked timber. Letting go of my breath, I jerk my neck to the side and the crack that follows behind the movement is loud, bouncing off the misty walls.
I squeeze my eyes closed, do my best to push my next thought away but it’s already reared its ugly head before I conjure up that kind of strength.
Is that what Laiken heard when my sister's neck was snapped?My stomach rolls, bile creeping up the back of my throat. I’m curling over the sink in front of me, retching helplessly down the drain.
Fuck. This.
I raise my chin toward the circle mirror and blink three times, trying to clear the picture staring back at me. The whites of my eyes are stark against the web of broken capillaries from spewing my guts up.
I chew on my bottom lip until it bleeds.
Weak.
Snorting back the shit that drips from my nose, I run the back of my hand across my mouth and shove away from the vanity, turning my back on the brother that couldn’t save his sister; the son…that killed his mother.
I shiver, violently.
Harlen and Rusty’s voices are loud when I start down the hall toward the kitchen. There’s banging and clattering, Rusty is cooking or cleaning up; I don’t pay attention when I slip past and step out onto the deck.
