The Season of Sin (Peace In The Storm Publishing Presents) by Stacy-Deanne Page A

shoot. I swear I will, Bruce!”
    “You don’t wanna do this.”
    “Yeah, yeah beg me just like I bet Nadia did when you stabbed her.  What did she say?  What did she do?”
    “Shannon you are dead wrong.”
    “When you were slicing Nadia up did you think about Dylan at all huh?  Did you?” She caressed the gun. “What would Dylan think if she ever found out what happened hmm? When she visited New York City last year.”
    “Shut up!” He raised his hand. “She won’t ever find out. The worse mistake I made in my life.”
    She wobbled when she turned. The counter broke her fall. “You weren’t saying that then were you? You enjoyed every minute of it.”
     “Dylan’s never gonna find out about that. You understand me?”
    “I’ll tell her.  Let’s see how much she thinks you love her then.”
    “And who would believe some pathetic ass drunk like you?”
    “Bet it made you hard to kill Nadia didn’t it? Bet you got off on it. Come on, tough guy. Admit it.  It had to feel good.”
    “Why not just go to the police yourself and tell them your warped theory?  Why come here and do this?”
    She cocked the gun.  “I want you to confess.”
    “Bullshit. You didn’t go to the cops because you’re afraid they might think you did it.”
    “I’d never hurt Nadia.”
    “It’s the perfect motive isn’t it?  I mean who would blame you, Shannon?  You had to be hurt and embarrassed to put so much love into Nadia, give her your all only to have her turn around and drop you like the sack of worthless shit you are.”
    “Shut up!”
    “Man you must be dumber than I thought. You actually thought Nadia loved you? All she wanted was sex. Everyone knew it but you.”
    “Motherfucker!” She smacked his nose with the gun.
    “Ahh!” He bent over. Blood dribbled on his shirt. “You, bitch! Aww!”
    She steadied the gun on him. “Call the police.”
    “And tell them a crazy whore is holding me at gun point and making stupid accusations? Gladly!”
    “You tell them the truth, Bruce.”
    “Fuck you!” He grabbed the gun and pushed her over.
    “Stay away from me!” She got up and ran into the yard. 
    “Come back here, Shannon!”
    ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
    “Oh.” She stumbled on gravel. Her foot caught in a tire. She fell over scattered car parts in the grass.
    “Shannon!” Bruce ran out of the garage.
    She ducked behind a rusted yellow car. She couldn’t see him but heard his footsteps crunching the weeds in the distance.
    “Shannon!”
    She zipped behind another car.
    “Shannon! Get out here!”
    Her head felt hollow. Her stomach spun from nausea. She got dizzy. She tried to stand but fell back into the weeds.  She got on all fours. She threw up before she could stop herself. 
    “Shannon!”
     “Ahh.” Vomit dripped from her mouth.  “Ooh.” She leaned against the car to steady herself.
    How would she see Bruce when she couldn’t see inches in front of her? Each car had a twin or triplet.
    She stared at the light from the garage entrance. The crickets’ singing resembled a base drum in her head. Every image multiplied. Every sound seemed a million decibels higher than normal.
    She raced to her truck and ripped her keys from her coat pocket. She stumbled on the uneven payment, kicking up loose pebbles.
    She pushed her key into the truck door.
    A hand gripped her waist and another covered her mouth.
    “Mmm!  Mmmm!” She flapped her arms. 
    “Can’t let you go, Shannon!”
    She felt the gun in her back.
    “Mmm! No!” She gurgled under his hand.  “Let me go!”
    Bruce pulled her up the driveway from behind. His arm felt like a metal gate. If he squeezed any tighter he’d crush her guts.
    “Mmm!”
    “Shut up!”
    He flung her side to side like a rag doll. Her heel broke off her boot. “I can’t let you go to the police, Shannon.”
    She rammed her elbow into his side.
    “Ahh!” He dropped the gun when he stooped over.
    She snatched it up.  “Get out of my way.”
    “Settle