Burn Out *18+*

Chapter 36

The world trudged on with a dull slowness for the next three days. I still felt the threat of Jasper looming over my head because it was still only a matter of time before he found out what I had done. And for those three days, it felt like the risk hadn't even been worth it. I stopped bothering to put in the effort of finding a notepad and a pen when a new audio clip came in.

For the first day, I leapt at every notification, but after listening to the four clips that were sent per day, it was becoming tiresome. To be frank, Axel sounded like every dad I had ever known, aside from my own of course. Because my father didn't complain about kids these days – he thought we were the future – and my dad didn't belittle his wife –my mother was always an equal partner. Axel was different. He liked seemingly normal things, if you didn't think about his drug ring, and he complained about every modern piece of tech on the planet.

He wasn't a man I thought I could really respect, but seemed unoffensive enough. I could be cordial with him if I had to be.

Until I was listening in on a Thursday night with Inkwell snoozing beside my laptop, a mouse toy between his paws. My mind had drifted. I wasn't paying attention. It all seemed so pointless. I heard the same two men mumble about nothing.

"—you don't need to worry. I know what I'm doing and that bitch is dead now."

The audio clip continued and I stared blankly at my wall, unhearing, only thinking about my course load. When was I going to find time for rock climbing? Should I answer some of those emails about dress requests? Sure, it wasn't the life for me, but it could be a good side hustle for the time being to bring in some much needed cash. And a good distraction, because my mom was still out there and...

That bitch is dead.

I jerked to attention so abruptly. My frantic fingers ripped the notepad out from under a sleepy Inkwell who darted to his feet. I didn't even glance at him when he hissed, just restarted to audio.

My heart thundered in my ears. I knew what I had heard. I knew what it meant. Someone was dead. But that didn't mean that my someone was dead. Right?

"So the kids are good?"

"Kids are good," Axel confirmed. "A little spooked but nothing major. They are too old to be kept in the dark, y'know? They understand that these things have to happen for us to live the life we do."

"But it must be hard for them to know that someone was that close. One wrong move and –"

"And what?" Axel challenged, a chill lacing his voice unlike I had ever heard. "We don't need to think like that. Someone got close, who cares? They can't touch us. They have no proof."

"It only takes one person—"

"Let me tell you something. If one of our guys even thinks of pulling anything, we take a baseball bat to them, plain and simple. Whatever protection we offered, whatever money we gave them, gone. And if they don't have anything from the inside, they have nothing. They can follow us around like they did, and wind up buried."

"They're going to come looking. You shouldn't have ordered it—"

"Shut up. For fuck's sake, just shut up or you're going to be buried next. It's done. And I'm happy it is. I'm so fucking sick of being on lockdown. I'm going to Sydney in two days to fucking relax for once, okay? Maybe I'll pick up a girl on the way, heard our boys down south need something fresh."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You don't need to worry. That bitch is dead now."

"You know, I looked into her a little, took her name off the ID card she had. I think this might go deeper than you think. She has the same last name as the guy who married the foreign queen."

It was my mother.

It could be no one else.

My mother was dead.

And I was listening to her murderer talk about it like she was nothing more than a severe snow storm, something that could take out your power for a couple days and make you grateful for hot water.

"She's dead, that's what matters. They haven't caught us yet; they aren't going to catch us now. I just want one day. One day in town with my kids then I'll go back to laying low. Might go back down to Miami to get more involved with the ground work there, you know? I want to wipe my hands clean from the coke for now. By the time they have figured out that I swapped over to moving girls instead, I'll have passed it on to someone else. Oh, by the way, you're in charge of the drug op now."

"But, they're on to us now."

"They're on to you now," Axel said. Then he disconnected the call.

I frantically typed my mother's name into the search bar. She was not marked a deceased yet. But she wouldn't be until they had found her body and identified it.

The only new update on her file was some co-ordinates. Apparently, they were now tracking Axel's car.

My watering eyes drifted to the clock in the corner of my computer screen. I gave myself five minutes. Only five minutes. My trembling legs carried to my bed. Breath was getting stuck in my throat that felt too tight when I picked up my pillow. But when I pressed it against my face, the scream came out so easily. So did the tears. I wailed, letting my lungs rattle in my chest and my knees give out so I fell to the floor. The shock was brutal.

Then so was the rage. Very suddenly, holding a pillow over my face was no longer what I needed. I was in my kitchen in a moment. I grabbed my favorite drinking glasses from the cabinet –all glasses Dexter and I had collected from craft breweries—and I threw them to the floor. They shattered beautifully, but it wasn't enough. I grabbed at plates, bowls, utensils, because all of it felt so fucking worthless at this point.

I thought I had built a life for myself. I thought I was doing what I needed.

But I had failed. I failed myself. I failed her.

She was dead.

And he was alive. For now.

But if I knew that she had fallen, so would others. I glanced at the clock on my stove. I had given myself five minutes and I had taken seven.

I wiped tears and snot from my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, then pulled out my cell phone.

A kind woman answered with the name of the airline.

"Hi, I need to book a last-minute flight. The sooner the better."

By the time Jasper found out, it would be too late.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What are some misconceptions about your hobby?

I think a lot of people assume writers hiss at the sun and are solitary souls, but I'm a firm believer that living a big life makes me a better writer!