Carole's body falls gracefully backward in the kitchen and all I see is the blood splatter on the white tiles and her arm as it flops out from behind the kitchen bench.
As if in slow motion, Garcia, Danny and Lizzie run to their mother's body. There is screaming and crying as they somehow try to bring her back. But she's gone. Their cancerous mother killed herself in front of her entire family.
And me. The girl sent to kill the husband.
If this isn't fucked up, I don't know what is.
I don't dare move. In fact, I don't even think about killing Garcia anymore. It seems like the most miniscule problem right now. I just stand there and let their moaning cries carve themselves upon my heart.
After what feels like ten years, Lizzie gets to her feet. Garcia is in too much of a frantic state to think of me at all. But then Lizzie's hands are gripping my shoulder and she's telling me to run.
I look around. Lurker is on the phone, probably to 911. The other security officer is trying to pry Danny from his mother's body and calm him down.
"Did you hear me Jess?" Lizzie yells. "RUN!"
I have two choices. I can stay and wait for the police to arrive and give a statement and be permanently connected to the Garcias', or I can run and hide and figure out what to do then.
Running looks suspicious, but it also sounds easy. And after everything I've had to deal with, I need easy. I need to think about this, to plan my next move.
So I run. I sprint out of the room. I ignore Lurker's shouts. I'm quick on my feet and I make it to the road before he is even at the door. Then I sprint down the street to my bike, kick up the stand and yank the throttle. The bike roars to life and I skid for at least six meters, burning rubber in my wake.
I make it to Mercy's abandoned club before breaking down completely. I have no idea where the power switch is and I make a point to avoid the place where his body was but isn't anymore. Todd cleaned up, just like he said. I wonder what he did with the body. I wonder what they'll do with Carole's body.
Tears start to fall from my eyes. My shoulders shake with sobs. My knees decide they don't want to hold me up anymore and I fall against the bar, sticky stains beneath my jeans and pieces of broken glass falling from the step. I crawl until I find a plank of wood that doesn't have booze or sharp objects on it and I cry harder than I've cried since I left Nick. And for the first time in a long time, I don't know what to do or who to call or where to go.
YOU ARE READING
Free as a JailbirdGeneral Fiction
Jess Knight likes her freedom. Despite being in jail for about sixty-five percent of her teenage life, she is in complete control. But there's only one problem: she doesn't know her purpose. One day, everything changes. Her reputation as the younges...