Page 73 of We Already Dug the Grave

He whispered, “I thought Mr. Fortenberry was a good guy. He tutored me during lunchtime all last year when my grades dropped because I was working so much.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t good,” I said. “But I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted him to stop.”

Except he had stopped. When I threw the camera to the ground, he’d let her go. That’s when I swung. Maybe I’m a liar. Maybe I’d wanted to do it all along…

“You did what anyone would’ve done.” Casey leaned toward me, and I think he wanted to kiss my cheek, but he missed and kissed the side of my head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice was thin, as if he was trying to convince himself, and that hurt more than anything else.

I sat there, my heart an open wound. My soul raw and ready for judgment. Instead, Casey turned into me, his eyes open, wide. Imploring.

“It’s okay, Milly. You know, I shot a man one time.”

“What?” I froze. “When?”

“In seventh grade. I had stayed home sick from school, and I heard someone in the house. This creep had broken in, was turning everything upside down. I think he was on something, because it took him a while to notice me. He said Dad owed him money.”

“Did you… Is he dead?”

“No.” Casey shook his head. “It was only with my pellet gun, but I got him in the cheek. He’s lucky, because I was aiming for his eye. He ran out, and I locked the door and pushed the couch in front of it.” Casey sighed. “When Daddy got home, he backhanded me for it. Said I’d caused him all kinds of trouble.”

I wanted to tell him that was awful, that his dad was a piece of shit. I wanted to tell him I was sorry that happened, but I didn’t have it in me to comfort anyone. Besides, it wasn’t the same. Casey had never looked into the flat, lifeless gaze of another person after he took their life.

He’d never felt that thrill, nor that loathing.

I moved to face him on my knees. “Casey?”

“Yeah?”

He was pale in the moonlight. Ghostly.

“I…feel…I mean…I feel numb. Like, kind of, I don’t know, like nothing. I just…I want to feel something. Anything. Please?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” And I was sure. Instinctively I understood feeling okay was too big an ask. That maybe I’d never feel okay again. But I’d have settled for feeling anything at all.

“Will you kiss me?” I asked as I slid my hand to the back of his neck, pressing my fingers against his warm skin. Waiting for the buzz. The electric charge. The beating of moth wings in my chest. When they didn’t appear, I blinked away the tears that sprung to my eyes before Casey knew they were there. He wouldn’t kiss me if I was upset, and I needed him to.

“Okay.” He cupped the side of my face. When his lips found mine, this time I tried not to think of Mr. Fortenberry—I tried so hard.

I kissed him back, hoping to banish the unwelcome thoughts. My lips pressed into his and I wrapped my arms around him, as his own circled my waist. The kiss deepened, but the horrible images still lived behind my eyes. A sob escaped while Casey’s lips were still on mine.

He jolted away.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I said.

“No. Don’t be sorry. I…I only wanted to make sure that you still wanted me to kiss you. I—”

“No. I did. But… I’m sorry.” He put an arm around me. “Shh… It’s okay. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to, and we’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

I looked at him then, with pleading eyes. “Casey, I’m so scared.”

He peered at me, deep eyes, auburn hair almost black in the nighttime, his finger running over my hands. Then he pulled his hand away, twisting the ring from his finger. The gift from his mama their last Christmas before she left. The silver ring he’d always worn, like a part of him.

“Here. Take this.” He slid it on my index finger, curled my hand into a fist. “Keep it, and every time you get scared, hold it and remember that I’m here.”

“I can’t—your mama gave it to you and—”

“Yes. You can.” He lifted my fist to his lips, kissing my fingers. “Say you’ll take it.”