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I flinch because his next words hit home.
“But I never suspected the reason was because you were a fucking drug dealer. You were everything I hated because your ‘career choice’ was the reason for my shitty childhood.”
I’m sorry for Justin’s pain, and I’m not proud of what I did, but it was not a career choice. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. But I just didn’t have the balls to stand up to my dad and tell him no.
“But it gets better.” He snickers, pulling back from my personal space.
I let out a premature breath because as I watch Justin reach into his pocket, pulling out a ripped, aged photograph, I know the answer lies within this picture.
“Do you know him?” he asks, showing me a picture of a man in his early forties who I don’t recognize.
“No,” I muffle from around the gag, shaking my head in case he can’t understand me, but he does.
“Look closer!” he yells, shoving the photo into my face.
Pulling back to get a better look, I still have no idea who he is.
“Look closer at the life you destroyed,” Justin spits, tapping the barrel of the gun against the discolored photograph.
My eyes focus on the picture of the man in blue slacks, watering his rosebush, but still, nothing.
“You filthy whore!” He slaps me again, but this time, my teeth rattle inside my bloodied mouth.
“You can’t even remember the face of the person you killed!” Justin screams, his fingers crushing around the photograph in rage.
“What?” I gasp through my gag, my eyes widening.
“Oh, don’t play dumb. You dealt this man a bad batch of heroin, and this man was my father!” he shouts, shoving the picture into my face so I can get a clear view of the reason behind Justin’s rage.
My stomach burns, and rancid bile creeps into the back of my throat. But I hold back my vomit, as I know I will choke on it if it comes up.
Staring at the photograph with a heavy heart, I can see the resemblance between Justin and his dad, and I don’t blame Justin for hating me. He has every right to despise me because I don’t remember the face of the man whose life I destroyed.
I deserve this. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t stop.
I won’t fight Justin. If he has to do this to get some kind of peace, then so be it. Revenge is a powerful thing—I should know. And I’m willing to sacrifice myself to give Justin his vengeance.The vengeance he deserves.
“I followed you one day after school because you weren’t really around after the party.”
That was because I was failing and didn’t see the point of attending something trivial like school.
Thinking back, I know the day he’s talking about, as it was my last day at school. I was there to collect my shit and drop out. I had a small batch of heroin stashed in my sock that I was to deliver. But I went to school first because the drop-off was about ten minutes from Parkdale High School, which was unusual, as I mainly dealt to people in the city.
That drop-off, I now realize, was to Justin’s father. And you know what, I still can’t remember his face—but there’s a reason I can’t.
The faces of the people I’ve dealt to all morph into one because I don’t want to know what color their eyes are or what they do for a living. I don’t want to know because that would make them a person. That would make them someone with a family, which would make them a mom, a dad, a wife, a husband, a brother, a sister, and someone’s kid.
It made it easier not to feel guilty when they were just nameless, faceless clients. It made it easier to accept that I was ruining their lives.
“I saw you deal to my dad,” Justin whispers, lost in thought. “I always wondered who he got his gear off. I just never imagined the girl I loved was responsible for ruining my life!”
“I’m sorry.”
And I really am.
“You’re sorry?” Justin asks, his body shaking in fury.
I nod, my eyes filling with tears.
