The Divorcee Murder Club

Cincuenta Y Seis ~ 56

                The gun skips across the floor when I tackle Richie to the ground, and we wrestle like alligators in a swamp. He kicks to get away from me, his hands reaching for the pistol, but I drag him back, punching and climbing over him to get to it first. We go at it, neither of us progressing as we roll across the hardwood floor. Finally, I pin him, but Richie claws at my face like a little bitch. Burning pain radiates from my left eye down to my cheek.

The fucker drew blood.

I block his attempts to scratch me again, and we begin some form of patty cake, slapping each other’s hands out of the way. It’s ridiculous. So I headbutt him, and for a moment, I see stars as the pain reverberates from the front of my skull toward the back. Richie’s arms fall away, his eyes blinking to keep himself conscious, allowing me to reach past his head to grab the gun. My fingers wrap the handle, and I'm on autopilot as I press the barrel to Richie’s forehead.

Bang. 

The lights go out in his eyes, and I abandon him to get to Mindy. She’s bleeding out in Sammy’s arms, her eyes frantically searching the ceiling, and her breaths fast.

“Fuck.” My hands hover over her chest, where blood blooms across her blouse.

“I don’t…” Mindy swallows, tears streaming down the sides of her face. “I don’t want to die, Miguel.” 

“You’re not. Hang in there.”

But Sammy stops me as I fish through my pocket for my phone. “You need to get the hell out of here. I’ll call the cops.”

“Fuck that! I’m not leaving her.”

He grabs my collar and shoves me. “You’re covered in Richie’s blood. You need to get out of here, Miguel!”

Blood sprinkles are all over me when I glance down at my shirt. I wipe my face and bring my fingers into view. They’re tainted in bright red. Fuck.

“He scratched me…” I say, thinking about how my DNA is all over Richie.

“I’ll take care of it!” Sammy barks. “But you need to get out of here. You’re too connected to everything. Go.”

“I can’t.”

He shoves me again as sirens wail in the distance. A neighbor must have called the cops. “Go, you stupid kid!” 

This time, I stumble to my feet as I take one last look at Mindy, and the blood pooling around her, then run the hell out of there. 

∆∆∆

It's been hours, and trying to sleep has been impossible as I wait for a call on Mindy’s status, and it doesn’t matter how many times I turn in bed. I can’t get comfortable. No matter how tightly I close my eyes, I can still see Mindy’s terrified face, the loss of color in her complexion, and the blood turning her blouse maroon. I thought it was scary when Angie was shot, and it was, but this was different. It was like I could see Mindy looking into the light that would take her away from this earth. 

Sunlight creeps into the bedroom, and there is still no update. I'm exhausted, yet sleep has yet to claim me. However, Angie is snoozing in the spot next to me, and we’re both fully clothed. I never thought I’d see the day when we could share a bed and not fuck. She stirs, her eyes still closed, and her movements slow as she rotates onto her stomach with her cheek pressed into the pillow. But then, one eye opens from behind a curtain of curls falling into her face. 

“Staring at me…” she mumbles. 

“Morning.”

“Few mrah mrins.” Her eye closes, and her soft snoring continues.