We pull into a driveway almost 15 miles from my house.
"He was killed about two years ago. Why are we here?"
"That's the thing." He says opening the door. "I was here when it happened." His voice sounds dark. It kinda scares me.
"You were here when it happened?" I say trying not to sound confused.
"Yes. I'm the one who shot him."
I freeze. I try to find the words to say, but they're lost.
"Why?" I know I sound scared because he turns to me and his eyes grow softer.
"He took my sister. We had proof and the cops wouldn't do a damn thing about it. I had seen her playing in the yard walking home several times. I waited until mom was asleep and left the house. I got in my truck and I came here. I watched her walk every room in this house. She seen me. I know she did. She wanted out." He breaks into tears. "She was only 7. He's not family. He had no right to take her. Our mother didn't even seem to care. He killed my little sister. I watched him kill her. So I waited until he went to bed, I watched him for hours, seen him turn every light in this house off, except one, his bedroom light. When he was asleep I climbed up that tree and I shot him." He says looking at the tree by the broken window. He stares for a few more seconds and turns to me. "I regret it. I honestly do. I was so mad. I lashed out. They did tests on my sister after I confessed. After the results I wanted to bring him back and kill him again. He had raped and beaten her." I can hear the anger in his voice. I'm still speechless.
"I-" He cuts me off.
"Follow me." He grabs my hand and pulls me gently. My legs feel weak, but I force them to keep up. I follow him to the back yard where there are several holes dug in the ground. "He buried the kids he killed here. They found several of them."
I'm still speechless. I can't think.
"But you had a reason." I say feeling small, shy, afraid.
"He's not the only one."
Fear tingles through my whole body.
"How many more?" I say in a shaky whisper.
"Two." I become more afraid and he turns to face me. "My uncle and one of his friends." He starts to sound angry again. "They would sell my body to gay men when I was younger so they could buy drugs. I was raped too many times to count. No one would listen to me." He gets more angry. "No one!" He almost yells and realizes he's squeezing my hand without meaning to. He lifts my hand up and kisses my reddening wrist."I'm sorry. I didn't mean to squeeze. I'm sorry if it hurt you." He looks down into my eyes and I see them soften. I slide my hands onto the sides of his neck and he puts his on my sides. He leans down and kisses me. "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you."
"Do it." I say scared.
"No. If I do, I'm afraid of what I would do. I'd end up in jail this time for sure." His eyes soften more. "Kat you're perfect. Your beautiful brown eyes, your long blonde hair. I don't want to hurt you."
I suddenly feel insecure. I'm still afraid. Here I am, 11 at night, it's pitch black, and I'm in love with a killer.
