Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Doesn't matter. Just put me out of my fucking misery. They'll be off my mind. Send me to Father Karma, God's judgment, I don't fucking care. Just get this blood off my hands.”
I stare, trying to understand. He winces in pain, his head tipping down at the ground, before he looks up again.
New frustration clouds his eyes. “What the fuck are you waiting for? I said, do it. It's what I deserve after I killed them, isn't it?”
For five hellish years, I would have answered yes. No hesitation.
Today, that steel rod perched against his head, screaming for justice, slips from my hand. It hits the cement floor so hard the echo rattles my teeth. I take a step back, giving him breathing space.
“What...what are you doing?” he whispers. The surprise in his eyes isn't the only thing we have in common.
All these fucking years, I thought he was a monster. Believed I'd never have peace unless I killed him.
I look at the blood on my hands. There's no honor here. No right. No fucking peace.
“Howard, what the hell?!” He's trying to scream and it's still a desperate whisper. He can't manage more.
“Shut up. Listen to what's happening if you want to walk out of here alive.”
I wait for that to sink in, watch for him to blink, steeling my eyes. Then I crouch to his level, grabbing his face, holding it in a death-grip I'm sure will leave another bruise on his battered jaw.
“I'd be a damn fool if I let you walk away easy – especially when we're so much alike. I hate it, but it's true. So much common fucking ground I could slap myself for not seeing it sooner.”
“You're out of your mind, asshole. There's nothing!” He yells another lie, but the fear creeping into his eyes confirms the truth, clear and bright and blinding.
He knows, just like I do.
“Wrong. Let's be real: in less than a year, you'll be a father. A sick joke if I ever heard one. I kill you today, I leave your widow, your son or daughter, without a man to pay their rent or put them through college? I tear a hole through Sadie's heart she'll never get over, even if she knows it's self-defense.” I pause. He jerks his head, and I tighten my grip, until the bastard whimpers. “Worse, I kill you here and now, I lose my soul. And you do, too. I'll give you what you've wanted this whole fucking time, what I've been too stupid to see.”
“Psycho,” he snarls in my face again. “I'll turn you in, I swear! You better just kill me now or I will put you in jail, Howard.”
“Nah. Here's what you'll do instead: crawl back in your truck and drive home. Tell the cops you were wrong about the brakes, and I did a real nice job patching them up. Maybe I even saved your life. Then you'll pack your shit and leave this town forever. I'll give you three days to tie up loose ends.”
“Leave, you maniac? Leave what? This is home!”
He's such a defiant little shit. I tighten my grip, shake his head like a rabid dog's, waiting for him to shut the hell up, and listen.
“You've got money. You've got a pretty young wife. You've got yourself a kid on the way. You'll manage a few states over. I'll let you know when it's safe to come home for a visit. It'll be awhile after what you'll write for the local press.”
He shakes his head. Poor baby. So much confusion. “Write? What? What the hell do you mean?”
“You'll clear my name. Make a full confession. Tell the whole county you fucked up years ago, got good men killed, and I had every right to turn my back that day at the parade. Uncle Sam's investigators found you innocent, yeah, but the court of public opinion won't be so forgiving. Trust me, I know. I'm saving you plenty of grief, asking you to start over elsewhere.”
His face starts twitching in my hands. But he isn't fighting anymore. He's broken, bawling like a child who's finally been held accountable for the very first time. “You can't...can't just fuckin' do this. I –“
“Shut up, asshole. I'm not done yet.” I wait for his latest round of whimpering to stop. “You've got my address. The old place you drove me out of nearly a month ago. I'll be expecting your financials every quarter. Bank statement, investments, what-the-fuck-ever. You report in like a good boy, and we'll be cool.”
“Report, report, what report?” He shakes his head.
The last part still isn't making sense. I suppose I've got it in me to help him get it one last time.
“You keep what you need to support your family. Not a penny more. The rest is restitution.”
His eyes narrow, the hatred coming back. “Where? Your greedy ass?”