My Little Murder

Chapter 16 - Deadbeat Heartbeat

I killed him.

Where are you going? Will you just leave him?

I was the one that ended his life.

What about Charlie? She will find out that her brother is dead through a stranger.

I raked a hand through my hair, looking around quickly.

You can make this right. Go back.

My eyes were bloodshot, and my skin was cold.

Turn around, call Charlie, and go back.

Was I screaming? My throat was sore.

Last warning. Turn around. Walk back.

My footsteps moved quickly and quietly along the footpath. It was dark and cold, and I didn't know where I was. Rain was pouring down from above me, and I could hear sirens in the distance. My senses were blurry, though. It could have been a television from a house I was passing, I had no idea. To be honest, I had no idea where I was going, either. Should I go home, and face my brother? Should I go back to Charlie and tell her what I did? Or should I go to a safe place, where I didn't have to deal with any of it?

All of a sudden, my feet were off the ground and my face rocketed for the concrete. When I hit the ground, I cried out at the impact it jolted through my head, and pulled myself up on my knees, already sobbing. My body shook, and I held it tightly as the rain drenched my hair and made it cling to my scalp. Then, I tilted my head back and cried.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I screamed, the sound echoing down the empty street. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

This isn't about you.

I clambered to my feet, a fiery mess with tears and rain staining my face as I stumbled down the footpath.

Go home. There is nothing you can do here.

Was this the sanity speaking? Or the insanity? It was always hard to decide which was which, and what decision I should trust. I could keep bumbling down a strange street along in the dark, or I could go home and take responsibility.

You want to get better. 'Acknowledgement' is how you get better.

It was right. Acknowledgement. I needed to admit to what I'd done. I needed to stop running away every time it got hard. Even though that's the easy thing to do.

Okay, so here's my acknowledgement: I just talked about my father and killed one of the only people in my life who really mattered to me.

How lucky was I?

I didn't know how long it had been since I got out of that car and fled the scene. It had stopped raining ages ago. Was it a few minutes? A few hours? How far did I manage to get? Should I have been going back to Charlie's house, or Pax's house?

Did I already ask myself that?

No, I wasn't going to go home. I needed time. Thinking time, maybe. A day, at the very least. I needed to know that I was ready for the real world; that I didn't need to go back to the hospital. I could do it, I knew I could. I didn't want Pax sending me back. But now, because of what I've done, I wouldn't be surprised if he did send me back.

Are you going to stay out here for your birthday?

"I don't deserve a birthday," I muttered. "If I hadn't gotten out of that car..."

Suddenly, my phone started ringing from my jumper pocket. I knew who it was without having to pick up. Pax worried for nothing; if I had been dead too, I would've also been splattered over the windscreen of that car.