Page 157 of Once in a Lifetime, Part 2

Steve: No you idiot. You’ll catch it. He set his phone aside and glanced at Ody.

He hadn’t moved. His eyes were fixed on the TV. Empty.

Mano sat the same way in his own apartment. The TV played some action movie, loud, chaotic. He wasn’t really watching.

“You son of a bitch!” Gunfire exploded through the room.

Mano’s head snapped toward the screen.

His father’s voice. His mother’s laugh. Like they were in the room.

A sharp ringing filled his ears. He clutched them, pressing hard, like he could force the sound out.

It didn’t stop.

He pushed himself up, eyes squeezed shut, a broken sound tearing out of him as the images came rushing back.

The bank. His father’s body on the floor. The masked men. The guns. The shots. His mother dropping right in front of him.

“Hey, kid. You wanna go see them?” A gun pointing at his head.

A sob tore from his throat. He grabbed the remote, fumbling. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t find the button.

The gunfire kept echoing.

He slipped off the couch, hitting the floor, crawling toward the TV. He reached up blindly, hands shaking and shut it off.

The room went quiet. His mind didn’t.

Black clothes. A crowd. The priest’s voice. Two coffins and their faces staring back at him.

His body curled in on itself. A crushing pressure tightened around his chest, squeezing the air out of him.

His hands shook. Then the voices came, inside his head.

“It’s your fault.”

“Your fault!”

“They died because of you.”

“You’re a monster.”

His stomach twisted. He dragged himself to the bathroom, barely making it. He collapsed over the toilet and threw up.

The voices started to fade. But not completely. “Your fault.” A whisper in the back of his mind.

He slid down to the floor, breathing hard. It took a long time before he could move again. Eventually, he forced himself up and stepped into the shower. Hot water poured over him. He didn’t react. He just stood there. Still. Empty.

His knees gave out and he dropped to the floor of the shower. The water kept running over him, tears mixed with it. “Mom… Dad… I’m sorry…” His voice broke. “Please… forgive me…”

He curled in on himself, shaking, trying to hold it together, even as part of him knew he deserved it.

Ody opened his eyes and frowned when he saw Steve still there. A glance at the window told him it was still night. “You didn’t leave?”

“No. And I’m not planning to.” Steve didn’t look up from his phone.

Ody pushed himself up, studying him. “I can’t… eat. I just can’t swallow anything,” he said. “But my stomach hurts… and it’s growling.” His voice wavered, and Steve finally looked up.