Chapter 21
Turner
There’s anger in her eyes. I know she thinks I’m weak, but that’s not true. If I was weak, I’d give in to the urge I had to kill her, and bury her body next to my brother’s. I’m finally strong enough, because of her, to do what should’ve been done a long time ago. Sometimes, it’s better to put a wounded animal out of its misery than let it live with its disability.
“I’ll pull the trigger,” Em says, her voice calm and collected. “And then I’ll take Gunner and I’ll leave this hell I was trapped in for weeks. Don’t you worry.”
My chest swells. “Good girl.”
A tear rolls down her cheek as her lower lip trembles. “But first, I want you to tell me everything. ” Her voice strains as she presses it harder into my temple, doing the job I planned to do myself—and will do myself. I won’t let her be the one who pulls the trigger.
But I’ll let her feel in control in this moment.
“Where do you want me to start?” I ask her, a strange calmness settling in my body.
“What happened to your brother?”
I let out a long, heavy sigh. “I killed him.”
“How?” she demands, her eyes alight with anger. “How did you kill him?”
“I shot him with my rifle. Something was wrong with me,” I begin, the truth spilling easier than I expected. “I got this weird urge, like I was in the middle of war—but there weren’t any flashbacks. It all just went dark.”
She nods. “He could tell something was wrong, but Gunner helps you, yeah?”
I smile up at her, my eyes growing wet. “He’s a damn good dog, and the only reason I’m still here—but that was before you showed up. You can take him and give him a good life.”
“He’d be lost without you.”
“He’d be less stressed,” I chuckle, wiping away the first tear I’ve cried in decades.
Em’s lip quivers, but she holds it together. “Keep going. What happened?”
I blow out a breath. “I…I went outside. He went with me—Gunner, too. I just needed air. Or something?” I pause, shaking my head. “I felt off. I didn’t have a gun with me at the time. He said something to me? He told me I needed to get help and he would take me to see my doctor. I argued with him, saying nothing was wrong, but then he said I had this dead, distant look in my eyes. I’d seen it myself. It scared me, Em.”
“Then what?”
“Then it all went dark. I don’t know what happened.” I can’t look her in the face as I finish, explaining the gun, my dying brother, and the way I buried him where he asked. “I wanted to call the cops, and turn myself in. I knew I’d be committed. That’s what they wanted to do when I had my first… episode. ”
She nods. “At the grocery store.”
My eyes widen with surprise. “How do you know?”
“The journal. Your parents got in a car accident on the way to pick you up, and your brother went to them instead of you.”
“He did the right thing,” I say, ignoring the blast of grief in my chest. “I guess technically I’ve killed three of my four dead family members.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
“No,” she reasons, shaking her head as she sinks deeper into my lap, her body warm against mine. “No, you didn’t. That’s not how it works. If a kid is waiting for their mom to pick them up from school, and she dies on the way there, it’s not the kid’s fault.”
“Kid’s probably not playing war in the bathroom, either.”
“Still doesn’t make it your fault.”
“Okay, but the others are.”
Emersyn nods. “Yeah, they are. Why don’t you tell me what you did?”
Unable to meet her eyes, I explain the first time I caught a hunter trespassing, he tried to shoot, but I was faster—and then every time someone else was caught, I shot first and never asked questions. I buried them all, too, but didn’t put crosses in the ground.
“Very interesting,” she remarks, confusion filling her face. “Though, I suppose one could argue they were in the wrong for trespassing.”
“Maybe. It wasn’t until you, that I…” My voice trails off as I gather my wits. “That I felt something again. Now, you know what I am.”
“And what are you, really?” her question comes out in a whisper as the fingers of her free hand trace my cheek, grazing the trail of moisture.
“A psychopath,” I answer her, feeling myself harden. “That’s what I am.”
Emersyn falls into silence, sniffling as fresh tears slip down her cheeks. I take in the sight of her, her still-damp hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes red from the tears, and my chain around her neck. She stiffens as I reach up and tug the small heart out from under her sweater.
“Guess you found it.” I run my finger over the E. “Kind of elementary.”
Her hand comes to mine, brushing over it softly, while the barrel still digs into my temple. Maybe she is in control, because I have never wanted to be a good man so badly—and I’d do absolutely anything the woman told me to.
“It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten in years,” she says, holding my gaze. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“I always wanted to find a girl to wear my chain,” another piece of my past spills from my lips. “It’s that stupid?” I look up at her. “I wanted the whole thing—the white picket fence, the wife, and the kids. Can you imagine me, a fucking nutcase, with kids? Guaranteed that they’d end up troubled and fucked in the head.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand. “What a beautiful life you could have had.”
“Yeah, I know,” I laugh. “Isn’t that crazy? I thought I was a hero once, Em. I thought I was Superman, coming to save the day every time I went on a mission. By the time I made it home, I was already turning into a villain—and then I realized I’ve always been the villain in someone else’s story. I couldn’t find peace unless I was causing violence.”
She nods in understanding, and my body relaxes underneath her. It’s like a therapy session, only with a beautiful, compassionate woman sitting on my lap. Never mind the gun to my head. We fall into silence, and I wait, wait for her to say something else. But she doesn’t.
It must be time. She’s heard enough.
I turn my head to Gunner, sitting there, no longer panting with panic or worry. He no longer appears concerned, and for some reason that brings a deeper sense of peace in addition to the rest. It’s finally over. No more nights with pills. No more spilling blood. No more pain.
I turn my head back to Em, who’s got a whole river of tears rolling down her cheeks. “You don’t have to do it, baby,” my voice sounds so gentle, so sweet, reaching a level of empathy I haven’t felt in years.
“Final words,” she demands.
I shake my head. “I’d never give you that burden. Just know that if I somehow avoid going to hell, I’ll keep an eye on you, Em—and if I get that kind of grace, I’ll see you on the other side.” My hand lands on hers, my index finger sliding over the trigger. “Let me do it. Close your eyes.”
She swallows audibly, Gunner lets out a pained bay, echoing in the emptiness of silence.
And then she pulls the trigger.