Page 119 of Volatile Waters

Uncle laughed. He thought this was sweet revenge; one he couldn’t have predicted.

Touching the scar on my lip, the one I received when refusing the sex when I was so young, I thought of Whitney’s mother. Seafoam, help her see the truth…

My ears rang so loudly I couldn’t hear when Whitney spoke, but I was sure it was the vile thoughts she must have had about me. That is why I was stunned when the pointed gun turned toward my uncle and fired.

There was no time to process. Only react.

I spun and took the knife from the man a few feet behind me. He was staring at his boss, shocked by what had just happened. Taking advantage, I slit his throat.

Quickly turning to protect Whitney from the other gunman, I was astonished to see Kirill had already attacked, taken him down, and killed him. Whitney was dazed, staring at my dying uncle sitting on the couch. I recovered without delay and took the gun from Whitney’s slack hand, then shot two more bullets into his chest. I couldn’t have her living with the guilt of being like me, a murderer, so I tossed the gun and grabbed her shoulder. “I killed him. Understood? Not you.”

Her stare was soft and full of kindness. “Thank you.” I think she was grateful I was trying to free her conscience, but we both knew it didn’t work.

Full of sorrow, I leaned my forehead to hers. “How did you learn to shoot like that?”

Her voice was gentle and eerily calm. “Crash.”

My heart stuttered.

“He said he had a good teacher.”

I stood up to see into her eyes. It was as if Crash was inside her. Another moment I would never forget. Had Crash been with us all along?

There would be no time to reflect on the miracle. When I heard the gun move, I looked to see it now in Kirill’s possession. His eyes were dull, expressing the inner torture he could no longer live with. I stepped in front of Whitney so she would be spared the gruesome decision my cousin had made. I begged him, “Don’t do this.”

He had been with me all my life. It may have been a shitty one, but it was the only one I knew. Now, it was time for a different one. To live and heal through all this turmoil. I didn’t want to do it without him. Even if he had successfully run away with Valerie, at least I would have known he was on this earth, somewhere.

“Will you make sure she is buried?” was all he said. He had already resigned from this life.

I had to let him go. Swallowing so much sadness, I nodded, then choked out, “I will.”

I watched, as if in slow motion, as he lifted the barrel to his temple. I refused to look away. It was only right that I see him to the end of his journey.

His eyes met mine. They had nothing left to say except goodbye.

Tears fell as I thought of the night he ran with Valerie, my hand on the glass, whispering, Goodbye, Cousin. May I see you again. Blowing out a shaky breath, I nodded and prepared to say goodbye again.

Kirill had been a vicious man while alive, but he exited as one who had found his heart.

His large form fell and ended next to Valerie’s.

I’m not sure how long I stood there, watching blood flow from his body, but I eventually felt a little hand slip into mine. I squeezed, so thankful to have Whitney by my side. I cried, “I will miss him.”

She leaned her head on my arm. She couldn’t say the same. All she knew was his evil side, but she still respected my time to grieve. Eventually, she asked, “Does she have family?”

I thought of Valerie telling me of her mother and the pimp. “No.”

“Was she a good person?”

I cried, thinking of the night I shared with her, how she recognized the pain in my heart I didn’t know I had. “Yes. A special, lost girl.” I gazed at Kirill. “And he loved her, the best way he knew how.” With my free hand, I wiped at my wet face. “Whitney, I want to burn this house down.”

She kissed my arm. “I will help you.” She rubbed her cheek to my arm. “But, don’t bury them.” In shock, I gawked at her. Beautiful eyes full of mercy stared up at me. “Set them free. Don’t let her body be exhumed from her grave if they are ever to be found. She has clearly been through enough.” Whitney cried. “It is how I would want it. My body burned, so I could finally fly away.”

I pulled her to me and cried with her while rocking us both. “I’m so sorry.”

She held me tight around my waist. “Me too.”

With all the diesel fuel I could find in the garage, Whitney and I doused the mansion, hoping to free the many souls that had been lost there.

As I drove us away, the last time I would drive down that long, isolated driveway, Whitney stared into the side-view mirror of my car. The reflection showed my childhood home engulfed in flames.

Ironic, since it was Fire who had lit the match.