I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 54

SODA:

The first thing I did when I arrived back in the United States was find a good bar. I knew I had a ton of work to do if I wanted to make sure Boss never found Keenon or his loved ones, but I needed a few hours. Just a little bit of time in this big old world to be normal. To be a normal twenty-year-old girl with a broken heart. To mourn what I had lost.

Yes. For the first time in my life, I was going to mourn what I had lost. I never mourned my mother, or my missing brothers, or losing my sane father, or all the victims I had killed, or leaving Matt and the gang, or having to leave town after town, friends after group of friends, because I was always running.

But that night, I was going to mourn it all. I was too busy fleeing the scene all those years before, but this time, I was staying put. Keenon was right. I needed to stand still for once and face what I had done like an adult.

So I walked into the bar with the pieces of my heart sown to my sleeves, and I took a seat on the stool at the counter. I ordered the strongest thing I knew of, and five minutes later, I ordered another.

I thought of my father, of the things he had done to me, of the wonderful man he once was. I wondered where he was now or if he, too, was in danger of being killed by Boss. I wasn't sure I would be sorry anymore if he died. He wasn't the old man I loved, and he hadn't been for years.

I thought of Trace. The brother that never loved me at all, the one that didn't care. My father hit him only once, and after that Trace never came home enough to be hit again. I wondered if he and his bitchy wife were alright. I may hate them, but I wished no ill harm on them.

I thought of Brody. My dear, goofy Brody. The one who got hit twice, one the night Trace was hit, and the next during the only time in my childhood that he tried to stop my dad from killing me. Even though he left me as well in the end, I always knew he at least cared. That was why I forgave him when he came looking for me a few years ago. I wondered how he was doing at the moment. I knew I had put him through hell, that he was probably a broken mess, but I hoped to high heaven that Matt had managed to keep them both out of Boss's reach.

Matt. Oh, my precious Mattie. I had ruined him much like I had ruined Keenon. He just didn't show it. He didn't scream at me about how much he hated me. He didn't complain when I left him. Twice. He was my saving grace, my redeeming factor, and I loved him for it. I had hurt him so much, and knowing that made the hole in my chest swell to unimaginable sizes.

I thought of Kyle and Lacy and Jazmine and all the people I had come to adore this past year. They probably still thought I didn't remember them. Were they all dead like Toby? Had they been killed just for smiling at me? I clutched the front of my shirt in misery at the thought.

Two hours later, I was drunk out of my mind and as miserable as ever. Things were running together, faces smeared into blurs, and the music faded away. I had been crying for the last half hour, sobs tearing through me, and as much as I was aware of a few people trying to help me, I pushed them away.

My only thought was, Not them too. No one else can die because of me. It will destroy me. I can't live with myself anymore.

My heart couldn't bear the agony of knowing that everything I touched literally withered away in death, and if I wanted it to stop, I had to be absolutely alone for the rest of my life. I couldn't help but be curious... Was this what Boss had sentenced me to? Did he plan to make my life like this on purpose? If I didn't obey his every command, he made my world hell?

Then I realized the horrible truth.

It was my fault.

I had to stop blaming other people for my own stupid decisions. I made my own life my own hell when I decided that night so long ago that I was going to put my life above someone else's. When I decided that I would rather put the bullet in someone else's head than suffer the consequences and die myself, I sentenced myself to an eternity of misery.

No, this was all on me.

And the irony of it all was...

If the thing you're running from doesn't kill you, then the ache would.

That void, that gaping black hole in my chest, would creep up in my mind, shove all the things trying to kill me to the side, tap me on the shoulder, and whisper oh so softly in my ear with icy breath,

I'd kill you first.

And it would be right.

Oh, the fucking irony.