Page 8 of Not Another Dark Romance

The only thing worse than thinking I had killed him by accident… is now having to decide if I should do it on purpose.

“Goddamn it,” I hiss as I throw the shovel as hard as I can into the ground away from the truck, trying to release some of my frustration, but it doesn’t help.

Because if I’d killed him like I thought, there was a chance my plan would have worked if no one ever found the body. Or hell, even if they did, and I managed to not be connected. But now this guy is awake.

Or he was until I panicked and hit him in the head again.

Now that he’s alive, he’s going to be the one to turn me in, and I’ll absolutely be going to jail.

Unless I kill him, intentionally this time, and continue with my plan…

But, fuck, I don’t know if I can actually kill someone on purpose. Even if it’s my life and freedom on the line.

I wouldn’t say I’m an inherently violent person. I’ve never truly wanted to hurt anyone for no reason. And I don’t even know anything about this guy. What if he has a family? A wife and kids? He looks like he’s around my age, but some people I went to school with have kids already.

Ugh. This would be so much easier if I knew he was a bad person.

How am I supposed to decide if this guy’s life is worth more than mine? Obviously I’m a selfish asshole for even considering the question, for deciding I have the authority for that kind of thing… but it’s my future! The voice in my head is chanting that I should look out for myself now and go to therapy or church or something later.

He’s already passed out again. It’s not like he would even know what’s happening. When I played football in high school and got a concussion, the doctor went on and on about how the real danger was in getting another one, that I could even die if I hit my head again. This guy has now been hit in the head twice. One more solid one is probably all it would take, right?

I direct my attention back at his expressionless face. His eyes are closed, but he looks peaceful. I realize that his jacket seems like it’s too big on him, which is probably why I can’t see any signs of whether he’s breathing or not, but he appears to be comfortable enough. Maybe I can just hit him as hard as I can in the head with the shovel, and he’ll die right away, like this, at peace. He won’t even know.

I take a deep breath and pick up the shovel again.

I can do this. One quick hit and…

But what if I managed to fuck that up, too? What if he wakes up again after I leave? Oh my god, what if I bury him alive? That has to be one of the worst ways to die. He would haunt me for sure. Especially if I don’t do it right and he escapes, then he’ll definitely turn me in, and I’ll go to jail forever. Likely in a horrible federal prison because I live in a stupid city that’s on the fucking state line, and I crossed it. The states will hand me over to the FBI, and I’ll never know freedom again.

I should just do it. Kill him, make sure he’s actually dead, ditch his body, and live the rest of my life as a free man.

I can totally do this.

I have to do this.

I wind up this time to add a bit more power since my panicked hit obviously wasn’t enough to kill him. I’m holding the shovel like a baseball bat and I’m just waiting to swing. Come on, you can do this.

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before. But my stupid body won’t move. I seem to be frozen instead of inflicting the blunt force trauma I want to be.

Come on. One swing. You got this.

I drop the shovel.

Fuck!

I can’t stop picturing a random woman with two kids wondering why their dad hasn’t come home. Killing anyone is obviously awful. I never in a million years thought that I would be seriously considering taking another person’s life at all, but for some reason, I can’t move past the thought that it would be so much worse if there are kids relying on him.

Ugh, why is now the moment I decide not to be a selfish asshole?

But I know why. I saw how hard my mom worked growing up and raising me all by herself. How hard Grant and Eric’s mom worked after their dad passed away. I have no idea what we all would have done if our families didn’t help each other out the way we did. We even lived with them for a while. My dad was just a dick who didn’t want kids, but still, I can’t shake the thought that I could be the reason another woman becomes a single mother.

I need to know this guy’s situation before I decide if I can actually kill him.

He has to have a phone, right? I haven’t heard one going off, so that’s got to be a good sign that no one is depending on him. Unless it’s on silent.

With a renewed sense of direction, I search his pockets, careful not to be too rough and potentially wake him up before I know what to do with him, and find his phone.

But it’s dead. And it’s a newer model than mine with a different charger. Fuuuck.