Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 28: The Broken Dam

DAMON

An air thick with loss surrounds me as the sun beats down on rows of headstones. It's unsettling for warmth and light to fill such a solemn and eerie place. The grass beneath my feet is soft and dewy, and the trees surrounding the cemetery rustle gently in the wind.

The sky overhead is a deep shade of blue, with a few scattered clouds casting shadows over the tombstones. It's a peaceful scene, but the tranquility is tinged with sadness, a constant reminder of the losses suffered by those who come here to mourn.

As I stand before the graves of my family, I am acutely aware of the stillness that hangs in the air. It's as though time itself has slowed down, the world holding its breath in anticipation of the emotions that will inevitably arise.

The silence is broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. It's a stark contrast to the bustling chaos of the world beyond the cemetery walls. A world they'll never see again.

Because of me.

Because I started it all.

"Jesus Christ, Damon!" My father barks. I can barely see him through the tears as he paces in front of me, Charles Marquis by his side. "Do you realize what you've done?!"

"He'll be okay," I mutter, more so to myself. "He'll be okay."

"Maybe he will but—"

"I will handle it," Charles interjects, clearing his throat. "Take him to your house. He was there all night, yes?" He turns to his son. "And you say nothing, understand? Not a word."

"I want nothing to do with this," Quinton says. "Leave me out of it."

"Not a word," Charles grunts. "I mean it."

"I'll make it right," I whisper. "We'll make it right."

"Get up," my father demands, grabbing me by the arm. He winces as he smells me. "Jesus, you need a shower." My limp body follows my father out of Charles's office. "Your mother is..."

"Don't tell her," I say meekly. "Don't—"

"She knows."

I swallow. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix everything, son. Get in the backseat and sleep it off."

"I'm so sorry..."

The universe has a way of balancing the scales, of keeping a ledger of all our deeds and misdeeds. It's a cosmic law, an unwritten code that governs the ebb and flow of life. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, a cause and effect that ripples through time and space.

Some call it karma, others fate. But regardless of beliefs, there's no denying that the universe has a way of realigning itself. The consequences of every choice and action may not always be immediate, but it is inevitable.

Like a stone thrown into a still pond, our actions send out ripples that spread far and wide. They touch the lives of those around us, shaping their destinies in ways we may never fully understand. And yet, we are all interconnected, a web of souls woven together by the threads of cause and effect.

It's easy to lose sight of this interconnectedness, to become blinded by our own desires and ambitions. We forget that every choice we make, every word we speak, has the power to create a ripple that will reverberate through the universe. And sometimes, when a crime is so egregious, the results are far beyond realignment. It's not a rebalancing.

It's revenge.

"Let me help!" I shout, unbuckling the seatbelt, the sound of the rotor blades erratic and unstable. The engine whines and sputters like a beast struggling to stay alive. The helicopter vibrates violently as if it's being shaken by a giant cosmic hand. "Let me—"