Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“You’re high.”
That’s it?
That’s what he’s going to say to me after everything I just blurted out?
In my state, my emotions are far more heightened than I’ve experienced in a very long time, and it shows.
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” I yell.
Even when I yell, it sounds pretty. I’ve always hated that about my voice. I can be wild with emotion, and it comes out sounding sing-song like. It frustrates me because no matter how much I try, I sound pathetic when I’m attempting to show someone just how upset I am. Right now, I’m upset. I’m upset because Western is simply acting as if my words aren’t even penetrating and that only makes the fire inside of me rage out of control.
Spinning on my heel, I storm to the front door only to stop when I reach it, because I’m not done. I turn back toward him, crossing my arms over my chest. My head is spinning from all the movement, but I try very hard not to let it show. Instead, I take a deep breath in, and I let it all out. I’m done dancing around this man. If he wants his life to move forward, then he needs to stop pushing people away.
What happened was awful, I’m certain of it, but if he keeps sitting back not fighting, that’ll never change.
“You know, I believe you right. I am probably one of the only people in this awful little town that believe you’re innocent. I have nothing to base that on. Not a single thing. Everyone in my life thinks I’m absolutely bananas for even speaking to you, but here I am. Every day, I’m here, trying to talk to you because I think you have a story to tell. And the best you can do for me is kiss me and toss me aside as if I’m nothing more than trash. So, screw you, Western, or Nightmare, or whatever the hell you want to call yourself. I’m done being nice.”
Nodding my head, pleased with my outburst, I turn again.
I’m just reaching for the doorhandle when his voice whips out behind me.
“That boy died because I made the wrong choice.”
Eyes widening, my breath hitches in my throat as I slowly lower my hand, but I don’t turn, scared that if I do, he’ll stop talking.
“Wasn’t meant to be there that day. Wasn’t my mess. Spent the rest of my days cleanin’ it up. Bill Whart shot them, and he stood back and let me take the fall for it.”
This revelation hits me hard in the chest, and I press my hand to it to stop myself from gasping. I suspected Bill had something to do with it; I mean, those are some of the rumors that float around, but hearing Western confirm that, makes it so much more real. Deciding to turn, I slowly face him, my eyes a lot softer now. He’s standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his face stony.
“Tell me,” I say, carefully. “Tell me what happened.”
He takes a step toward me, but I don’t move, I don’t even flinch. I’m not going to back down now, not even if the words that come from his lips scare me. I’m committed, and I won’t go until I know the truth of what went down that day. The day that forever marred his name, that forever changed his life, that forever tainted his soul.
“I was at the swamp, doin’ club work. Heard voices, so I went to check it out. I was meant to be there alone. Saw Bill, Daniel, and Braithe all arguin’ about somethin’. Bill told Daniel that he couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut, and then he just raised that gun and shot him, didn’t even fuckin’ flinch. He turned the gun on Braithe, and I jumped out to stop it, but when I crashed into him, it fired. Didn’t realize at first that he had hit the kid. Got into it with him, he made a call sayin’ he had followed me and witnessed a murder, then he did a runner. I made a choice to go after him, leavin’ that boy to die on the ground.”
I can’t help the tears that burn under my eyelids hearing him talk so much, and the fact that his words are so broken and so bitter, only make that feeling stronger. Swallowing, I take a step closer to him. “Why didn’t you tell someone it was Bill?”
He stares at me, his expression blank. “I made the choice to follow him and left the boy alone. If I didn’t make that choice, if I had stayed and called for help, he would have lived. I might not have pulled the trigger, but I killed the kid all the same.”