Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Rough draft.”
“Right.” I smile. “I will polish the fuck out of that story and turn it in.”
She chuckles a little, mostly to herself. Then she draws her legs up to her chest and settles back against the couch cushions.
“So. I’ve been thinking about our conversation this afternoon.”
Her eyes dart to mine. They are bloodshot because she’s been crying. Her make-up, while not streaked down her face or anything, is smudged under her lower eyelashes. She’s still wearing her costume, but no shoes, I notice. And she’s taken the jewelry off.
“And I think I know where I went wrong.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Ya see, Lowyn, I forgot to tell you how those two seconds affected me too.”
Her sad look becomes even sadder. I don’t want to have this conversation because it won’t paint me in a nice light. It won’t soften my edges, it will make me hard and sharp. And I hate that this is the man I turned into, but there’s no way around it. I am this guy.
“Before I got up from the couch to go see what was happening, and before I picked up that rifle—thank the fuckin’ God above, it wasn’t the shotgun—and before I squeezed that trigger—even though the man in front of me specifically, and deliberately, asked me to spare his life—before all that I was…” I sigh. She’s entranced by this story, even more so than the last one. “I was… good, Lowyn. Good enough, at least. I was a good enough ball player to get a scholarship to Ohio State. I was a good enough son to my daddy to still be worth his time. I was a good enough student, and a good enough boyfriend, and pretty much a good enough everything. And then, two seconds later, I was a murderer.”
She exhales. “It was self-defense.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Maybe it was. Maybe he was gonna kill one of us. He did have a gun and he was kidnapping my baby sister right out of her bed. But he put his hands up, Lowyn. He asked me not to shoot. And I didn’t even blink. I blew his fuckin’ head off. And it’s not because I was scared, either. It’s not even so much about the anger, though I was angry. There was just this…” I let out a sigh. “This very strong voice inside my head, ya know? This voice that said, ‘No, sir. No. Sir. You don’t get a second chance after this. You. Are. Dead.’”
Lowyn presses her lips together. “I think that’s what the sheriff was trying to tell me, Collin. Sometimes a person crosses your line and they don’t get to come back from that.”
“Right. I get it. I’ve even accepted it. That I’m one of those men, ya know? But the hard part for me was how I felt about myself afterward. You told me the other night that I made you feel safe. That what I did was something that ruined you by lifting me up.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Those aren’t the words you used, but that is what you said, Lowyn. I don’t make myself feel safe. I scare myself. That’s what you don’t know about me. You see me, this man with pretty words, or whatever, and think I’m him. And I’m not. I’m… that kid who blew that guy’s head off. I’m that guy. I didn’t feel safer after I murdered that man. I felt… powerful. But also dirty. Awful. Ugly. Evil. And you…” I stop here, because her eyes are watering now. “You, Lowyn, you’re like the nicest, purest thing these fuckin’ hills have ever seen. You’re just… one of them, ya know?”
“One of who?”
“The good ones. You’re one of the good ones. You’re like… like the glory that comes after the rumble. And I used to be one of them too. At the very least, I had it in me to maybe be one of them too. And then I killed a man. And since that night, I’ve killed a lot more.”
Her face falls. “Where? In the Marines?”
I nearly scoff. “No. No, Lowyn. I told you the military made a private army. I killed people as a hired gun.”
“What kind of people?”
“Bad people. They were bad people. They were all trying to kill someone I was hired to protect. But you see, that night… it turned me from good enough to no good at all. And so, when we were having our conversation this afternoon, I was not trying to be flippant about our destiny, or lack of one. I was just trying to say all this, all these words, with the fewest number of letters as possible, and it came out wrong. It’s not that I am content to let us be, or not be, based on fate. It’s that I am content to let us be, or not be, based on whether or not I deserve you.”