✔Paint Me a Murder | Book 1

Chapter 24: Who to Trust?

Kazimir's latest painting depicted a mythical tree house with a little boy perched on the edge of the branch. Cherry blossoms sprouted amid the tree, where faeries chased each other around. Using his acrylics, he'd started with a lovely baby blue sky in the background then added more details.

The treehouse was inspired by the one his father built for him as a kid. He worked so hard to construct it, and Kazimir always loved going up there to live out the fantasies that played out in his child's mind.

Once his father perished, Kazimir stopped going inside the treehouse. He didn't vanquish dragons or steer a pirate ship across the ocean in search of gold. It just wasn't as fun without his father there to play along with him. Kazimir's childhood died the day his father died.

After finishing his painting, Kazimir left it near the window where the sun shined. Someone would want to buy it for sure. They wouldn't understand the true meaning behind it, but that didn't matter to him.

Some days, it felt like the grief would sweep him away or drown him in his guilt. As the years went by, his father's image faded. Kazimir lost him at such a young age; only seven-years-old. Despite how little time they got to spend together, Kazimir cherished those childhood memories. Some days, he wished he could turn to his father for advice.

What would he think of Kazimir now and how his life turned out? There wasn't much to be proud of. Kazimir knew he was a disappointment to everyone in his life, especially his family. That was why he hadn't been reaching out to them often. He was ashamed to tell them how he couldn't keep a job. When his mother forced him out on his ass, he lied to his babushka and cousins about having a safe place to sleep. How could he tell them that he'd lived in a homeless shelter, snorting coke and snacking on the smidgens of food they provided?

Hoping to clear his troubled mind, Kazimir went to shower. The warm rivulets of water relaxed his tense muscles. After getting dressed, he met Jordy in the living room to figure out what they'd eat for supper.

"Hey, man. Can we talk for a sec?" Jordy asked, patting the empty space on the couch.

"Um, sure." Kazimir took a load off. "Something wrong?"

Jordy scratched the back of his neck. "I'm worried about you. Like, you've been really distant. After everything that's happened, I understand you must be scared. You know I'm here, right? You don't need Emmett and those rebels."

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine," Kazimir assured him.

"You don't have to lie to me. I can tell something's wrong," Jordy replied. "I just hate how evasive you're being about it. Is it because of Samantha? Hank? The cops? The gang?"

Kazimir shook his head, forcing a fake smile. "Really, nothing's wrong."

"Luca did this too." Jordy sighed. "Acted like everything was okay when it was far from it. He didn't want us to know he was hurting. He wanted to act brave. I miss him everyday. Not a moment goes by when I don't stop and think about what I could've done differently to help him."

"Sometimes there's nothing we can do. I know what it's like to lose a family member. My dad died when I was only seven. It still haunts me to this day, wondering what I could've done differently to save him."

"Everything with Hank and Samantha must bring up those sad memories, doesn't it?" Jordy asked. "I know I've been thinking about Luca's murder a lot lately too. It's hard not to. Can I be honest with you? This is such a horrible thing to say, but I envy Hank for the attention he's received. Nobody cared about my big brother. They just saw another dead junkie in an alley."

"I'm sorry."

"Someone tossed him away like garbage. Luca did everything he could to protect these people and they treated him like trash. I fucking hate this town. I hate most of the people in it too. The only reason I stay here is because I need to know what happened," Jordy said. "I need to know who killed my brother. Samantha's the same way."