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It was a culmination of events she set in motion.
We’re both at fault, but she won’t ever admit that. Ever.
I turn around and face the mirror again, so I can force myself to look at my own face.
The face of a fucking murderer.
“Don’t you ever think I’ll forgive you Brandon …” she yells. “Because of you, my fucking brothers are dead!”
It’s true.
I’m a cold-blooded killer who committed a horrible crime and then ran like a coward with his tail tucked between his legs.
Chapter Sixteen
Brandon
Past
November 9th
My mind is still spinning, my body reeling with adrenaline while I’m ushered into the van, and it immediately races off. We’re already miles away from the farm before it finally sinks in what we did. What I took part in.
We killed Dixie’s brothers.
I vaguely hear my uncle’s voice. “Brandon?”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I say.
He quickly fishes a plastic bag from a pocket behind the seat and hands it to me, and I puke.
“Always keep these handy for moments like this,” Uncle Josiah says, chuckling a little.
It’s good there’s no mirror in here because I’m sure I would scare myself into a heart attack if I saw my face right now.
My uncle pats my shoulder. “Thatta boy.” He takes the bag away, ties a knot into it, and chucks it out the window. “Better out than in, I always say.”
I frown, gazing at him. “How are you laughing right now?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” His brow lifts. “We don’t cry, remember?”
“We killed two fucking boys!”
“An eye for an eye.” He shrugs.
“We weren’t supposed to kill them! We were only supposed to rough them up,” I say in full panic.
“Calm down, Brandon,” my uncle says. “You don’t wanna make a mistake now.”
Why does that sound like a threat?
I ball my fists. “You put them up to it, didn’t you?” I hiss.
His face is completely serious now. “So what if I did? They deserved it. Every second of pain.”
“They were stupid, young guys just like me.” I punch my own leg because I don’t have anything else to punch. I’d be stupid to hurt anyone in this car right now. I’m in the minority, and dying is the last on my list of things to do today.
Still, I can’t shake this feeling that I should’ve done something to stop them. The pain should’ve stopped with me.
But it’s too late now. I can’t take back what’s done. I can’t undo the suffering I’ve caused the Burrells. And most of all … Dixie.
Fuck.
I swallow away the sourness lingering on my tongue. “Now I’m a murderer …”
And Dixie will hate me forever.
She saw me.
She fucking saw my face the moment I was about to kill Ben.
They’re dead because of me, and she knows it as well as I do.
Is she with them now, grieving beside their dead bodies?
Does she hate me for what I’ve become?
“You did what you had to do,” my uncle says with a stern voice, pulling me from my thoughts. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“I’m only eighteen. I was supposed to make something of my life. Now I’m gonna go to jail as a teen,” I reply, sweat dripping down my back.
“Who said you’ll go to jail?” he says. “I’m not letting anyone get their hands on my nephew.” He rubs my head, messing my hair. “You did good.”
I swat him away. “Stop! Don’t do that.”
“What?” He shrugs as if he doesn’t even know what I’m talking about.
“Don’t talk about it as if it’s the most normal thing in the world,” I say. “It’s not.”
“Doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t. They committed a horrible crime, and you know it, so you took revenge. The end. Case closed.” He holds out his hand. “Can I have my knife back now?”
I stare him down for a few seconds before searching in my pockets. It takes me a while to actually hand it back to him. It’s not without regrets, but what other choice do I have?
I’m in a van with a bunch of killers, and the only thing sitting between me and them is my uncle. I need to stay on his good side.
“What am I supposed to do now, huh?” I say, still upset that he thinks so lightly of all this. “I can’t go back to that town. I can’t go back to the shop. I can’t go anywhere.”
My uncle nods a few times. “I understand. I’ve lost something important to me too, Brandon,” he says, gazing up from underneath his lashes. The look on his face is dead serious.
I take a deep breath, my nostrils flaring. “At least you still have the rest of the people at the reserve …”
“I don’t live there anymore, Brandon,” he says, cocking his head.
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t?”
“I prefer the casino hotel,” he says, shrugging. “I never was a man for the countryside. Sue me.”
