the piece of wood goes flying, smashing a hole in the drywall above the couch. It’s not enough. The next piece also flies through the air. Then the next and the next. When the stack is depleted, I grab the fireplace poker and start smashing the lamps in the room.
Every move is accompanied by a scream. Every crash is cathartic.
It’s still not enough.
I drop to my knees in the middle of the wreckage and press my palms into my eyes. I try to swallow, but it’s painful. I can’t take a deep breath, and my lungs burn when I try. Instead, I breathe in staccato gasps.
Every part of me aches. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve actually managed to hurt myself in my tirade or if it’s due to exhaustion. There’s a chill in my body that seeps through to my core, and I can’t stop shivering. I grasp blindly at the couch with my fingers to try to find the blanket Lia always kept there and wrap it around my shoulders. I’m warmer at least, but my fingers feel numb.
I drop to the floor on my bad shoulder, and as much as it hurts, I don’t move. My head is pounding. When I open my eyes, I can’t focus on anything, so I keep them closed. Pressure behind my eyes threatens to burst forth, but I hold my breath and keep it in.
I’m too late. She’s gone. She’s fucking gone.
I have no idea how long I lie there, trying to breathe and trying not to think. It doesn’t work. I keep running over everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did I pick the wrong escape route? If I had been here a couple of days earlier, would she still be here? Should I be packing a bag and jumping on the next flight to Arizona?
When I finally open my eyes, I’m looking at the Iraqi teen leaning against the sliding glass door to the porch. His arms are crossed, and he glares at me. As I watch, he approaches and drops to the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of my face and stares at me.
“ You fucked it up.”
“ I was going to fix everything,” I tell him.
“ No you weren’t.”
“ I just…I just need to explain. Tell her I couldn’t walk away before, but now it’s different.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“ I could call her,” I whisper. “I could tell her it’s all okay now. I’ll promise not to do it anymore.”
“ You’d be lying.”
“ I mean it,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “No more contracts; no more hits. I’m done.”
“ For how long?” he asks. “How long before the urge to kill brings you back to Rinaldo? How long before your loyalty to him outweighs your need for her?”
I have no answer.
The kid moves forward, and I flinch. He places his palms on the floor and leans his head down until we are face to face.
“ You are a killer.”
I swallow. I open my mouth, wanting to protest, but I can’t.
“ I’ll…I’ll change…” I don’t believe the words even as I say them. I gasp for air and try to sit up as my body shudders.
“ You don’t deserve her.”
As I hear the words and recognize the truth of them, I release all the tightness in my body. I slump against the floor again, head buried in my arms. The air around me is so heavy, it’s oppressive. I can’t move.
I don’t have any reason to move.
I knew this day would come. Part of me has always known it. When we left Chicago to escape the life I had there, my intentions were pure. I had planned to get out of the business and live a quiet life with Lia.
I should have known better, but it’s what I had wanted at the time.
It wasn’t possible to stay away from that life. It had taken six months for Rinaldo to contact me after I left Chicago, but if I was to be honest with myself, I was glad when he did. Target shooting was never quite enough for me. I craved the real shot—the real kill. I took the odd jobs, escaped Lia with some lame excuse, and flew out to wherever I needed to go to take out whoever Rinaldo had assigned. At first it was just a couple of jobs, but they became more frequent.
But
Every move is accompanied by a scream. Every crash is cathartic.
It’s still not enough.
I drop to my knees in the middle of the wreckage and press my palms into my eyes. I try to swallow, but it’s painful. I can’t take a deep breath, and my lungs burn when I try. Instead, I breathe in staccato gasps.
Every part of me aches. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve actually managed to hurt myself in my tirade or if it’s due to exhaustion. There’s a chill in my body that seeps through to my core, and I can’t stop shivering. I grasp blindly at the couch with my fingers to try to find the blanket Lia always kept there and wrap it around my shoulders. I’m warmer at least, but my fingers feel numb.
I drop to the floor on my bad shoulder, and as much as it hurts, I don’t move. My head is pounding. When I open my eyes, I can’t focus on anything, so I keep them closed. Pressure behind my eyes threatens to burst forth, but I hold my breath and keep it in.
I’m too late. She’s gone. She’s fucking gone.
I have no idea how long I lie there, trying to breathe and trying not to think. It doesn’t work. I keep running over everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did I pick the wrong escape route? If I had been here a couple of days earlier, would she still be here? Should I be packing a bag and jumping on the next flight to Arizona?
When I finally open my eyes, I’m looking at the Iraqi teen leaning against the sliding glass door to the porch. His arms are crossed, and he glares at me. As I watch, he approaches and drops to the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of my face and stares at me.
“ You fucked it up.”
“ I was going to fix everything,” I tell him.
“ No you weren’t.”
“ I just…I just need to explain. Tell her I couldn’t walk away before, but now it’s different.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“ I could call her,” I whisper. “I could tell her it’s all okay now. I’ll promise not to do it anymore.”
“ You’d be lying.”
“ I mean it,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “No more contracts; no more hits. I’m done.”
“ For how long?” he asks. “How long before the urge to kill brings you back to Rinaldo? How long before your loyalty to him outweighs your need for her?”
I have no answer.
The kid moves forward, and I flinch. He places his palms on the floor and leans his head down until we are face to face.
“ You are a killer.”
I swallow. I open my mouth, wanting to protest, but I can’t.
“ I’ll…I’ll change…” I don’t believe the words even as I say them. I gasp for air and try to sit up as my body shudders.
“ You don’t deserve her.”
As I hear the words and recognize the truth of them, I release all the tightness in my body. I slump against the floor again, head buried in my arms. The air around me is so heavy, it’s oppressive. I can’t move.
I don’t have any reason to move.
I knew this day would come. Part of me has always known it. When we left Chicago to escape the life I had there, my intentions were pure. I had planned to get out of the business and live a quiet life with Lia.
I should have known better, but it’s what I had wanted at the time.
It wasn’t possible to stay away from that life. It had taken six months for Rinaldo to contact me after I left Chicago, but if I was to be honest with myself, I was glad when he did. Target shooting was never quite enough for me. I craved the real shot—the real kill. I took the odd jobs, escaped Lia with some lame excuse, and flew out to wherever I needed to go to take out whoever Rinaldo had assigned. At first it was just a couple of jobs, but they became more frequent.
But
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