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“Jackson, pick up the fucking gun!” My dad barks at me.
Ignoring him, I walk up to the last man standing and take a deep breath. I inhale his fear and bask in his terror.
I want to swim in his fucking sweat.
Reaching behind me, I pull the knife out of the holder I always keep on me. I’ve had this knife since Iowa. I found it in our old trailer park, abandoned and full of dust. I brought it home, sharpened and buffed it, and have kept it on me since. Every day, the knife has never let me down. It gives me a sense of safety that I need when I’m around my dad. I need it with the life I live in.
I slide it against my finger, closing my eyes when it cuts through the first layer of skin. This blade is incredibly sharp and will cut through skin and muscle like warm butter. It’ll take no effort from me to take a life.
Plunging it into his stomach, I watch his eyes widen in shock then turn into misery. The poor guy maybe still had an ounce of hope that he would survive, but it’s gone now. Blood starts dribbling from his lips in spurts of his wet breaths.
I pull the knife up, smirking when the knife does exactly what I thought it would as it cuts through his skin. I cut into his organs as I pull it all the way up to his chest. It’s tough, but it’s worth every second as I take my first kill. Warm blood spills over my hands and covers them in a thick red.
When he takes his last breath, I pull the knife out and look down at his intestines hanging out of his stomach.
Holy shit. I just killed someone.
I’m a murderer.
Turning around, I look up at the shocked faces of my friends, their parents, and my father.
“You will do just fine here, Jackson.” Rich says, pushing off the wall and walking over to me. Laying a hand on my shoulder, he appraises me. “Excellent. You were brilliant.” Turning around, he says, “Welcome to the business, boys. I expect you here tomorrow at nine a.m. for your first job.” He takes out his phone and starts dialing someone. Putting the phone to his ear, he looks at us and barks, “You’re excused.”
And, so it begins.
21
Cara
Seven Months Pregnant
“I’m here. I’m here.” Rose says as she walks in my house with a garment bag in hand.
“Ugh, thanks. I’m going to be so late. Jackson’s going to kill me.” I take it from her and run back to my room.
Today is the funeral for Jackson’s mom. I don’t know how it’s going to go, and I’ve been so nervous I’ve had theworst heartburnall morning. He hasn’t spoken about his mom or anything since the night she died. Personally, we’ve been good. We’re dating now, and Rosedidlose her shit. But now we’re past that and just ticking down the days until I pop.
I really do feel like a whale now. I can’t imagine two more months. And at this point, I really am wider than I am tall. Most of the clothes that Rose gave me before we went to California are now too small. For sure nothing in my closet fits, so Rose went to the store and picked me up something cheap from the maternity section at Target. I hate asking, but it’s this or wearing a blanket becausenothingfits me.
“How does it fit?” Rose asks from the other room.
I pull the dress over my head and watch as it falls over my stomach. “Well, it fits.” I frown at my reflection and how big I am. The dress is simple black dress with spaghetti straps and bunching beneath my breasts. It stretches over my stomach in flowy waves and ends at my ankles. How she was able to find something that fits my height perfectly is beyond me.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” I say, pulling open my door.
She walks in and her face lights up. “Oh, Cara. You look great! That dress looks so good on you.”
I shrug.
“Why are you acting like that! You look so nice. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She rubs my shoulder.
“I just feel unattractive. Me and Jackson have just gotten together, and he has to deal with me being double my normal weight. We haven’t had sex since California. He probably doesn’t even find me attractive anymore.” I sigh, feeling like I need to tell her about the worries I’ve been having for the last few days.
“His mom just died, Cara. Give him a few days to grieve.” She rolls her eyes at my dramatic rant.
“I know. Ugh, I hate this. With Logan it was so easy. I don’t know why. With Jackson, I feel like I’m second guessing myself all the time.”
