Page 139 of The Dearly Departed

I would've touched her back, and nobody would've been able to stop us.

Not Gerald or Virginia.

Not Benjamin.

Her husband.

For better or worse, that was what that sick fuck was to her now, and God, it took everything in my power not to push my fist through the mirror I stood before. There was nothing for me to do, nothing I could do, except to clean myself up and try to piece together the jagged lines etched into my face … all caused by my inability to keep my hands to myself.

It was worth it though, I told myself, knowing it was the truth. Because if it hadn’t happened, I’d never have known that I’d found her.

Anna.

My Anna.

And with that, I managed a sad smile and got to work on wiping the blood from my face. Then, after cleaning myself up, I saw just what a number Gerald had done on me, and though I wished I didn’t have to, I began to sew my face, wincing a little more with every stitch.

Some time went by, and the door opened. Shawn walked into the bathroom, immediately wrinkling his nose with disgust and turning away with a groan.

"You could've locked the damn door," he barked.

He's still angry, I noted. But of course he is. How else do I want him to act? I’m a fucking murderer—did I think he’d be happy about that?

"Sorry," I muttered. "I wasn't thinking about privacy while I was bleeding all over the place."

He turned to look at me again, his eyes meeting mine in the medicine cabinet mirror. Yes, there was no doubt that he was still angry. I suspected he would be for a long time. But he also had questions—I saw them etched in the creases between his brows—and I figured the sooner he asked them, the better off we'd be.

He took a step into the small powder room and shut the door behind him. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his back to the door with a thunk of his head.

“How the fuck did this happen, Bram?" he asked, helplessness heavy in his tone.

With a hiss, I pierced the delicate skin beside my eye and threaded the needle through as I said, "Well, Gerald's a piece of shit and thought I needed to be punished because his wife's daughter—"

"I'm not talking about your face, jackass," he interrupted with a shout. "I want to know everything."

I shook my head as my heart sank toward the pit of my stomach. “No, you don’t, Shawn.”

“Yes, I do!” he fired at me, unleashing his fury. “Fucking hell, Bram. We’ve been worried about you. Don’t you know that? We’ve been scared shitless, and as it turns out, we had every fucking right to be. And now I want you to start explaining. I want you to tell me so I can try to understand. Please. Help me to understand how the hell you got wrapped up in this bullshit.”

I pulled the needle taut, tightening the stitch, then glanced at him to see the pain etched clearly into the lines creasing his forehead. I knew he felt betrayed—I understood why—but, God, the depth of his agony was immense, and it pinched at something deep within my chest.

We'd been best friends—inseparable—for decades. We did everything together, and we had gone through Hell, doing it.

I'd had the time to get used to being on my own. The wedge these last couple of years had driven between us was something I grew accustomed to, but it was new for Shawn. He didn’t even know it was there. He suspected it, of course, but the proof had been elusive. But now he knew, and it was crushing him.

That was on me.

I hated myself for it.

With a purse of my lips and a nod of my head, I conceded and said, “Okay. Where do you want me to start?”

He blew out a tremulous breath and shrugged his shoulders high toward his ears. "I dunno. Uh … what the fuck happened to you? Why did it happen? And why the hell haven't you told us anything? Why haven't you told me?"

I released another sigh, about to begin from the beginning, when my hand slipped and the point of the needle dug into the cut.

"Fuck!” I cried through the pain and frustration.

The wound stung, and the blood began to bubble and ooze once again as I let the needle hang from my face while I grabbed the roll of paper towels and wiped the blood from my hands.