Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
Tyler
My brother Tor told me—not too long ago, during one of our very rare talks—that karma is a demented bitch.
Oh, how right he was.
I fly down the mountain road, going double the speed limit, but I don’t care. I should, though, because the last thing I need is to end up with my head through someone’s living room wall again. But right now, all I care about is how fucked up and twisted the world is.
What is that theory about the six degrees of separation? That everyone is somehow connected in some way?
The slam of memories was too much to handle. I had to get away from her. And the fire. And the fucking sick twist of truth and regret.
I always had this weird feeling of déjà vu, in my gut, that I’d seen Holly’s haunting eyes before, and I was right. They were the last thing I saw before I was almost burned alive.
And now I also remember his eyes. The moment he pushed me, and the moment I killed him.
Why didn’t we do something that day? Why did Wendy laugh in her face? I don’t even remember that. I must have been too drunk, which was rare for me at the time, but that night I tried a few shots of whiskey for the first time. I barely remember the little girl tugging on my shirt, or wondering what the hell a little kid was doing at a high school bonfire party, but now it’s coming back to me in erratic, fragmented flashes.
By the time I was awake in the hospital room and barely coherent enough to form thoughts, I had completely forgotten about the little girl. I vaguely remember the nurses talking about the abduction, but I never made the connection. It never spurred a memory. As pieces of that night flash through my mind, I realize I must have assumed at the time the guy who pushed me was her father and she was one of those little kids who was constantly running off, like Tessie used to do. I force myself to think back as I roar through the winding roads on my bike, but I’m sure I never mentioned the little girl, or the man, to the police, the doctors, or my parents when they questioned me. I told them some drunk friend must have bumped into me. Holly was forgotten in the mess of my brain.
How the fuck do I tell her the twisted epilogue to her story?
Tonight, all I want is to forget about the little abducted girl who grew up to be a beautifully damaged woman looking for love in the worst of places. I’m going to forget about the love and happiness I felt, just an hour ago, before it all went up in a fiery inferno of twisted coincidence.
I need to forget everything.
My father. My future. My face. My family. Holly.
I’m going to forget that everything is my fault if it kills me.
Reaching behind me into my saddlebag, I pull out my mask and yank it over my face as I ride toward the warehouse. I need to fight. I need to hurt someone, and I need physical pain to take away the emotional agony I’m feeling. My opponent will hit me harder if he can’t see my already scarred-up face. They always do. Maybe he’ll fuck me up beyond recognition so no one will ever know who I am. Not even me.
I would welcome it.