At first, I just blink. This - this can't be. I'm convinced that I'm not seeing things clearly in the dim light, or I'm dazed and confused from the riot, or I'm just straight up dreaming. There's no way this is real, because it doesn't make any sense.
But several minutes pass and nothing changes or clicks. Tony di Angelo, an Italian patriarch kind of guy, tanned and brawny and dressed formidably in a suit, is standing across from me in my living room. He's holding my brother around the neck, as if carrying a coat over his arm, and pressing a gun to the side of his head.
Danny has both hands on Tony's arm, like he's tried to escape, but he's as still as a statue. He must simply be supporting himself. He's looking straight at me, too, with an emotion so great I can't even name it. Or maybe I just don't recognize it. I've never seen my brother cry - he held it together in public at our parents' funeral for my sake. But now, his eyes are so glassy that I can see my own reflection in them.
I don't move or speak. I can't reconcile the horror with the normalcy. There's a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and a Coke sitting on the coffee table. My Econ textbook is still in the armchair. The quilt I curl up with, the one with the frayed edges and impenetrable coffee stain, is thrown across the back of the couch. The television screen is frozen on a paused movie scene.
And then there's the man who killed my parents holding my brother at gunpoint on the area rug.
"Well, now that the whole family's here," Tony says at last, "we can have a little talk."
"Tessa, get of here - " Danny says hurriedly, but Tony tightens his hold around his neck, cutting him off.
Tony glances up at me as if he did this especially for my sake.
"How - how did you get in my house?" I ask woodenly.
"Come on, Tessa," he scolds, using my name casually. Danny is surprised - he doesn't know that Tony knows us very well. "I know how to break into a house. You missed my dramatic entrance. The alarm went off and all that jazz. I had Danny disarm it immediately, of course. Can't have the police showing up while we're handling business here."
He nods to the wall beside the front door, where in my periphery I see the trap door on the alarm keypad hanging open. Someone - Danny, against his will - entered the access code. There is no blinking blue light or piercing siren indicating an intruder in our home.
"I'm surprised I got here before you did," Tony goes on mildly, handling my brother like some pitiful little puppet. "Then again, you were in East Bay not too long ago, weren't you? At a certain abandoned subway station? I wasn't coming from that far. Lucky for you two I was... in the area, more or less. Once I had the address you were an easy find."
This is ludicrous. I'm pretty sure I stare and gobble air, fumbling for words for so long that he must begin to question my intelligence. Tony is speaking to me in that coddling tone as if I'm a small child. But there's a smug lilt in his voice that makes my stomach coil unpleasantly. He has something terrible in store for me, and I am caught unaware. Quavo has the same habit. Suddenly I feel like I'm the one captive again with Quavo and Johnny - my thoughts catch at his name.
At some point I find my voice. "B-but how do you know where I was? Where I live...?" Paranoia rises in my chest at the possibilities: Mr. McCann is still keeping tabs on our family, Tony acquired this information from him before he was fired... or Chris told his father after he learned it from the only person who would tell him - Nina.
"I think you know, Tessa," Tony replies, sly and slimy. Like a snake. "But I'll answer all your questions if you just do what I say."
"You said you wouldn't hurt her." Danny sounds awfully calm. It's echoed in the steady gaze he's giving me. I think - or I hope - I understand the message he's communicating. Strong and determined, even in the face of danger, if it means protecting me. It runs in the family, I suppose - but I'm stunned at the realization that everyone thinks I'm so worth saving.
"I did," Tony admits. "But I also said you don't speak unless I tell you to. And right now this conversation is between your sister and me."
My skin crawls, and I stay plastered to the door. I'm afraid to make any sudden movements. "D-Danny, do what he says," I say, miraculously summoning up composure. My brother has given me some encouragement.
"Yes, listen to her. You don't know me like she does. Forgive me - I haven't even told you who I am, Daniel."
"You're an intruder and a psychopath." Danny starts thrashing around all of a sudden. He looks like a five year-old getting dragged away for throwing a temper tantrum. "How do you know my sister?"
Tony drags the gun from Danny's temple to aim at his foot. I realize he's going to shoot him as punishment, just to make him suffer.
"You didn't introduce yourself when you came barging into our house with a gun?" I say impulsively, eager to divert Tony's anger to me. I'm scared out of my mind, but Danny needs to shut up. He has a gun to his head, for Christ's sake. I won't let his courageous will to protect me become foolish and futile. Either that or I'm trying to show Tony that I'm not intimidated, which is the more optimistic version. "How rude."
"I know, where are my manners?" Tony replies. His sarcasm is frightening. Mostly because I can see his impatience with Danny growing. "Would you mind, Tessa?"
"S-stop saying my name." The words spring out of me in a stuttered whisper. "You don't know me."
Tony tilts his head and regards me with a calculating gaze. "No, but I feel like I do. You really do look exactly like your parents. Your mother, particularly. It's like seeing a ghost. I'll tell you, if I'd noticed you on the porch that night, I might've shot you by accident. And I never miss."
The room goes silent. Danny affects a blankness that only news like that can cause. My brazenness abandons me. His words cut through my fear, shock, confusion, and despair and pierce something much deeper, a blade plunged into my heart.
"Ah. This talk will go nowhere if we don't get the introductions out of the way." Tony speaks airily as if he has digressed. He tucks the thought away before bringing his gaze back to mine and smiling.
"Would you mind, Tessa?" he asks me again. He returns the gun to Danny's head for emphasis.
I don't say anything. I can't. I feel a tingling sensation on my face and drag my hand across my cheek, not surprised at the wetness there.
"Introduce us!" Tony roars suddenly, notching his finger on the trigger of the gun.
I flinch. Alright, now is not the time to be unresponsive. Not with my brother's life at stake. It'd be different if I was the target; I've learned how to gamble with my life as a distraction. Right now, though, I have no choice but to do exactly what Tony says. And in the process I can get him talking and find out what he wants. Hopefully.
"Danny, this is Tony di Angelo," I say. "The man who killed our parents."
Danny looks as if his worst nightmare is coming to life. He obviously figured this out from Tony's speech about my striking resemblance to our parents, but the things he knows, the things I've told him, and my confirmation are blurring together now. It breaks my heart to see him like this - I've dragged him into this mess, and I have to get him out of it.
"This - this is the man that killed our parents?" he asks me, so dreadfully confused that it makes my tears come harder. "The one that kidnap - "
"He's a corrupt cop," I interrupt, sending him a desperate look. He stops immediately. One thing I can't bear to have come out is the lie I told to give him closure. It's bad enough he's finding out the truth this way. "A hit-man."
"Oh, come on, I have much better qualities than that," Tony boasts. "Working for your boyfriend's father, for example."
"What?" Danny exclaims.
"Yes." My voice shakes. Honesty and cooperation are my only options. "But - worked. Past tense. He worked for Mr. McCann."
"But - I thought Mr. McCann was the owner of a weapons company."
"He is." That's all I plan on saying about it. But Tony's giving me a stern look that tells me I should keep talking. "But... he's also a crime boss."
"Crime boss? Tessa - you work for him!"
"I know. But only on the McCannics side. I had - have - nothing to do with the crime business. He would never involve me in all that."
"So you knew about this. Do you know what crime bosses do? And this man... you're telling me they worked together? Why didn't you tell me before?" he asks sadly, pleadingly. But he's still giving me that steady and implying gaze.
"It's not exactly information I could share, Danny," I whisper, pressing my fingertips to my temples. I hate this so much, and I realize that tearing us apart must be Tony's exact intention. "I told you everything I could, I promise."
"Not everything," Tony speaks up. "You left out the most important parts, Tessa. Why didn't you tell Danny I worked for Frank McCann? It would've saved us a lot of time. And it's part of the reason why I'm here."
"Why are you here?" I ask, knowing the answer but eager to stall.
A malicious smile spreads across his face. "To pay my respects."
A shudders works it way through my body. Yet I draw a deep, fortifying breath and conjure up the spine to play his game. "Your apology is long overdue, Mr. di Angelo. And I think that this is the worst way to go about earning our forgiveness."
Tony regards me, then gladly accepts my offer to parlay. "Forgive me. I was able to acquire the means only recently. Coming to you, for example. Your address wasn't common knowledge, and I had no reason to come after you, even when I did work for Frank. And surely you can understand that before I came, I had to calm down after getting... released from his business. Otherwise my visit wouldn't be this civil."
"And why is that?" I ask evenly.
"Well, think about it. I worked for Frank McCann for a very long time. I know how he operates, and how he handles his employees. Which means I didn't leave the business without knowing why I was leaving in the first place. I'm inclined - and justified - to take my anger out on your brother. After all, he's the reason I'm out of a job," he reveals.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I demand, taking the question straight from Danny's bewildered expression.
"I've known what's been going on for a while now," Tony explains, in a reflective storytelling tone that's perverse from our shock. "Once Frank found out that Daniel here opened an investigation into your parents' death, I was next in line. I had the right to know every single detail about the business, especially any threats or concerns, since I was working with him closely. I was still his right-hand man then." He frowns, as if nostalgic for his glory days, but I only see dangerous ambition in it.
"But..." Danny trails off, no doubt getting increasingly confused by the conversation. "How did Mr. McCann find out about the investigation? Why would he care?"
Tony throws his head back laughing. "Tessa, Tessa, Tessa." He tuts. "You really left out the most important parts of the story, didn't you? It's giving my visit a lot more shock value, that's for sure. So thank you for that."
"I told Mr. McCann about the investigation," I confess to Danny, my insides dissolving as I say it. I'd rather he hear it from me than let Tony add his own evil spin. "It wasn't intentional. It just kinda came out when - he told me he knew Mom and Dad."
"Frank knew Mom and Dad?"
"Hell, he told me to kill them!" Tony exclaims triumphantly, to no one in particular. He simply wants the fact to be known. "Poor bastards couldn't keep up with the money and favors they owed him. From the recession to your college funds to legal loopholes. Nothing was out of the question for the man who counseled McCann's wife for her anxiety - your father - and the woman who gave his son the best Catholic elementary education - your mother. You'd think such good friends of his would be an exception. But debts are a deadly thing with Frank McCann, no matter who you are."
Danny says nothing. What can he say at this point? I, on the other hand, am nauseatingly surprised. On top of hearing this mortifying tale all over again, from the very man who murdered my parents, I'm hearing that my mom was Jason's childhood teacher for the first time. I'm sure this is a coincidence that my parents and Jason's parents learned about after Mrs. McCann's therapy sessions. They were friends after all. I'm sure Frank hasn't told me this because it doesn't change anything, and it wasn't necessary to his story. It just makes things even harder to bear.
"Danny - " I whisper, an avalanche of emotions hitting me.
"Of course, something like that stays with you," Tony goes on, shifting his hold on Danny's neck like he's making himself more comfortable. Danny doesn't react. "I don't blame you for being curious. But it threatened Frank's business. Usually he's far away from the crime, the untouchable crime boss. I was his right-hand man, though, and the tiny possibility of getting caught made him extremely cautious. Now, if there's one thing Frank is, it's paranoid about his legacy and empire. So I got fired. My position was jeopardized by an investigation that probably never could have led back to me, and it's all because of you." His tone becomes snide at this last comment, and he digs the gun into Danny's temple. He winces.
"Frank fired you because he can't stand to be reminded of his mistakes," I insist. "His personal concerns are more important than your expertise."
"That's not what Frank told me," Tony says, a sadistic smile stretching across his lips. For the first time, though, I see the fury and resentment in his glare directed at someone other than Danny and me. "When he fired me? He said that my position was no longer an asset to him, but a threat, because of the investigation. He's the one responsible for it and he knows it. He fired me to save his own ass. That man only cares about himself. Haven't you realized that?"
I'm rendered speechless for several moments. I know Frank fired Tony as a gesture of earning my forgiveness, because his guilt, pain, and regret wouldn't allow him to continue working with a fiend. Unfortunately, Frank didn't give that as his reason when he was face-to-face with Tony. He couldn't have - it would make him appear weak and sympathetic to his victims, which he can't afford. I understand that.
But I no longer feel like I know where this is going - or what Tony wants. Is he angry with Frank or is he angry with Danny? Or I guess the question is, who is he planning to take his revenge out on? Why did he show up here to have a conversation with me about things I already know? He's not really speaking to Danny and is clearly using him for leverage. That means he wants something from me.
But what? What can I do for him except share his resentment for Mr. McCann? Which I don't. Is that why he's retelling the story, trying to convince Danny and me that Frank is our common enemy? Could he be planning to take revenge on Frank? Now that's he's been shunned he would need someone Mr. McCann trusts - like me - in order to get back in.
I swallow hard and watch Tony very, very carefully. "I trust Frank," I say firmly. "I don't trust you."
"Obviously. I'm not here to gain your confidence. I'm here to pay my respects, like I said. Not only was I fired from my job as Frank McCann's hit-man, but the bastard found a way to fire me from the force, too. I'll never have a job with them again. Now I'm left to take random assignments in the streets like I did back in the day. I was done with that. I worked so hard and was so close - " He stops himself and grimaces, cutting short his tirade.
"So close to what?" I ask, seeing an opportunity to get him monologuing.
His gaze cuts to me and hardens. "It doesn't matter," he snaps. "All my plans have been ruined. What kind of example am I setting for my son? Why should my loyalty and skills be rewarded with failure and dismissal? I earned the right to stand by Frank McCann's side. After everything I've done for him, he let me go because of your brother's investigation. I lost everything. I know I can't go after the boss, as much as I want to, so I'm out for blood. I want vengeance."
"No!" I shriek, terror welling up inside me. I don't know what else to say - I just have to protest some kind of way and delay whatever tragic plans Tony has in store for us. He's so unexpected and mercurial; I have to do something, anything. I realize now that he can't be here just to sabotage my relationship with Danny in order to make some sort of point. He's going to hurt both of us regardless of who he decides to shoot first.
My mind starts racing in panic. What do I do? Danny is still looking at me with that steady, telepathic gaze. But at this point it's a little strange. He's trying to tell me something and I'm not getting the message. Why isn't he trying to get away from Tony? Have his instincts not kicked in? Or is he just as wary of Tony's unpredictable temperament and scared to take that chance?
Before I can come up with a new game plan, Tony gives me an artificial smile. In it I see the worst of my misfortune: one, he's taking pleasure in my terror, and two, he's finally gotten to the best part.
"Don't worry, Tessa," he says smoothly. "I told you that I got over my initial anger regarding the situation - the one about your brother here jeopardizing my position with his investigation. I'd like to blame him for getting me fired because it's partially his fault, but I'm practical. I realize these consequences come with my job - and Frank McCann is really the person to blame here. So I'm not here to reap vengeance for that specifically. I'm here to deliver justice on a certain ultimatum. I believe you know what I'm talking about."
I process what he's saying very glacially, as if time has been suspended in water and I'm pushing through liquid confusion. Finally I break the surface, though the air is just as suffocating. "Quavo," I whisper.
"Let's not use those silly nicknames you kids throw around." Tony's knowledge of our habits wouldn't normally surprise me, but given the circumstances I'm thrown at his unflappability. "For Daniel's sake? He's a little out of the loop. Help me catch him up, won't you? My son Chris told you not to involve Frank and me in your gang business unless you wanted me to intervene."
"Tess," Danny says cautiously. "What is he talking about?"
While Tony tsk-tsks disapprovingly and chuckles under his breath - no doubt amused by his penchant for revealing my secrets - my heart wrings in my chest. This isn't the time for Danny to find out not only that I've been putting myself in danger, but that I've lied to him in the process. It was only to protect him! But now it's certainly doing the opposite.
"It's called a conflict of interest," Tony goes on prudently, not giving me a chance to explain. "Frank couldn't trust me if he knew I was the father of his son's enemy. It's not ironic that Frank discovered who I was, truly, around the same time that he told you about your parents, then fired me as soon as I closed that gun deal for him. Let me guess - Jason couldn't control his anger and blurted out that Chris is my son. That temper and insufferable desire to prove himself is gonna get him in trouble, you know."
Jason. Mention of him, even briefly, ushers in a whole new wave of emotions so great my world tips on its side. God, I wish he was here right now. But I know he's dealing with a slew of problems on his own out there. The least I can do is draw on the strength his name and spirit brings me.
"Jason told his dad because he knew what it meant to Frank," I say. "You said it yourself - Frank couldn't have trusted you knowing that you're our rival's father. And he fired you because of it. So you must know the truth: no matter how loyal or useful you are to Frank, you're not his priority."
"I was all those times he needed me to take out a snitch," Tony sneers. He doesn't appreciate my belittlement. "Or use my position in the force to make him a profit. There's no way his last scheme would've succeeded without me. And we sure as hell wouldn't have made all that money. That's Frank McCann's number one priority. How do you think Jason is able to be such a spoiled brat? It's not because he's an only child, or because he inherited that from his father, or even because of McCannics. It's because of the crime business - which wouldn't be banking if it wasn't for me!"
I brush off his attempt to get under my skin by insulting Jason and feel my spine snap back into place. "That's what this is. You're pissed because you're not a part of the action anymore. Because you don't have a claim to fame, money, power, glory. I see where Quavo gets his pettiness and jealousy from. He does the same thing to Jason. Except you're even more pathetic. You just wanna blame someone for your failure when it's no one's fault but yours!"
"Like hell it is!" he booms. He lets go of Danny in his outrage and he scrambles over to me. In a dark, brazen recess of my mind, I'm glad that I've angered Tony. At least I'm his target now: I can see the maniacal glint in his eyes, the eyes Quavo fixed on me when he intended to kill me.
"Forget about your brother's investigation," Tony growls. "It wouldn't have gotten anywhere. Frank is just so goddamn paranoid that he took precautions before I could get to him. Worst case scenario, they would've found something questionable and he would've been able to silence them right then and there. But it didn't get to that point and Frank had already begun doubting me. And you know why? Because you and your boyfriend wanted to run your mouth!" He's seething at this point like a pot of water left on the stove too long, and his voice thunders throughout the space. "My son told you not to say anything about it. He wasn't just threatening you to influence this goddamned gang rivalry you're in. He was warning you of what I'd do if you did anything to jeopardize my job. How dare you involve something bigger and more serious than you just to win a street fight?"
"The Wreckers did it first!" I protest in what probably sounds like a whine. "Nina told everyone that Frank was a crime boss and Jason was his son last year! Chris and his gang couldn't figure out any other way to fight the Bangerz. They're the ones who brought something serious into this in the first place. Frank's been involved with us from the start."
Oddly I notice that Danny doesn't react to Nina's name at all.
"At what cost?" Tony demands, the vein in his temple jumping out. "Chris and his friends spread a few rumors - nothing Frank couldn't brush under the rug with a wave of his hand. And Jason - that arrogant, entitled, smart-mouthed little prick - he can handle himself once the truth comes out, which is bound to happen. And if he can't, well, then he'll finally know what it's like to have your position threatened and disposed of. Something he and Frank have never felt, even when the boss got tangled up in your games. But when you tried that with me I paid the price. You're playing with my life's work - with my job and creditability!"
I blink and flounder for words as I grasp his logic. An awful sensation creeps its way along my skin as the tension in the room climaxes.
"This has nothing to do with my brother and me, Mr. di Angelo," I say decisively, flipping the script once again. Time to return to polite parlay, in an attempt to quell his temper. "You and your line of work is between you and Mr. McCann - "
Tony scoffs like I'm putting on the phony melodramatic performance of a lifetime. "Oh, please, spare me. We both know Frank doesn't have ulterior motives. He makes every choice carefully. I told you I'm practical. It might have taken some time for me to follow through, but my son wasn't bluffing. You violated the terms of the ultimatum when you revealed the conflict of interest. I can't go after the boss right now and Jason isn't worth my time. I'm all about efficiency and impact. Came, saw, and conquered, and all that. I'm sure you know that from my experience with your parents. It was quick. Bang, bang - and they were gone."
He pauses for theatrical effect, I guess, and throws us a feral Grinch smile before looking down at his gun and stroking it admiringly. Suddenly I feel Danny's hand slip into mine and he squeezes hard. It's a frightening gesture - it feels like he's saying goodbye. I refuse to believe that this is the end of anything.
"Kapag may usok, may apoy, Tessa," he whispers, so discreet that only I can hear.
Bewilderment and recognition war within me for a split second. I've heard those words today before... from Nina. Baffled, I look over at him and only have more questions spring up when he gives me a sad but serene smile.
"Anyway, that leaves you and your brother," Tony says. I hear him fiddling with something and glance at him immediately: he's loading a single bullet into the gun. He reaches into his pocket and loads another. "The fact that Daniel's investigation affected my job is just the icing on the cake."
"Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me," Danny says, inconspicuously moving closer to me. The remark itself is innocent enough, but again, I've heard that same exact thing from Nina today. Coincidence doesn't even cut it.
"How clever," Tony says drily. "I suppose the only one who's been fooled here is you, Daniel. Many more times than twice. And you, Tessa. You knew very well the terms of the agreement. It's just like business. You were told that if you breathed a word about my paternity to Frank, then my son would send me after you. You remember that, right?"
"Why now?" I plead. "After all this time, why are you just now coming after me? Is it because Quavo asked you to? Is it because he blames me for his friend getting shot?"
"I believe my son calls it strategy. And hitting you when you don't know what's coming. Sound familiar?"
"No. It just sounds like he can't fight his own battles. Please, Mr. di Angelo, don't hurt us - "
"Chris is out there fighting his own battles," Tony interrupts me flatly. "And I'm here to fight my own." In one fluid motion he raises his gun and aims it directly at me.
Everything happens very quickly then - or slowly, depending on how you look at it. Either way I witness the next few moments in stunted bursts. I close my eyes and remain where I stand, determined to take the fall. I flinch when the bullet fires and whistles through the air - I hear a thump of impact. But after a few seconds I feel no pain and it confuses me. Then I feel something else: Danny's hand going limp and sliding against mine, our palms and fingers brushing until his falls away completely - and he collapses to the ground.
I whirl on him instantaneously and stagger. The details register in a random order: the blank, glazed look in his eyes, the tattered hole in his shirt, the scarlet pool spreading fast on his chest, his shuddering body, his coughs and gasping breaths.
"Danny!" I scream, dropping to my knees and fanning over him. My hand flies to my mouth to muffle the mortified sob that escapes my throat. Tears blur my vision. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God... Don't - don't move - !" Scrambling, I glance around for something to stop the bleeding. I panic at my limited options and opt for doubling up my hands and applying pressure directly. Blood stains my palms and seeps around my fingers, but I don't care.
"Tess," Danny chokes out. He shakes his head weakly, his skin paler than I thought was possible for our deep olive complexions. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead. "Stop."
"No!" I protest, shaking my head and pumping his chest. I know it's useless - the bullet struck him in the heart and he's bleeding way too fast - but I can't give up on him, ever.
He raises a quivering hand and finds mine, squeezing it with all the strength he has left. "Lions, tigers, and bears, Tess," he gasps. "Don't be afraid of them. I love - "
Another bullet comes flying and pierces him in the same spot before he can finish. I shriek. Blood spurts into my face from the wound, festering and alive - but Danny is completely motionless, and his hand goes slack and drops to the floor.
"DANNY!" I scream, so loudly and woefully that I'm positive something inside me breaks. It must be the levy supporting all my emotion, the dam of my composure - something that has been splintering for as long as I can remember. It tumbles down now, a crumbling brick wall knocked down so fiercely it instantly turns to dust.
"Nobility will get you nowhere," Tony says from somewhere behind me. My ears are ringing so I'm surprised I can hear him at all. My vision has long been compromised, so I sense him rather than see him come my way. Although I want to escape his proximity my defenses fire when he bends down toward Danny - and his outstretched hand has the gun in it.
"Don't touch him!" I yell.
"Come now, Tessa, now isn't the time to be uncooperative," Tony chides. He wedges the gun into Danny's limp hand - the hand that held mine just moments ago.
I can't will myself to protest this as he steps over Danny carefully like he's picking his way through a minefield. "Though, your attempt was quite cute," he continues like I didn't interrupt his lecture. "You thought I came here to shoot you! You should've realized that wasn't the case as I was explaining. And still you tried to sacrifice yourself and accept a fate that wasn't yours. You aren't your parents, Tessa. There was no protecting your brother from his end."
He takes a step forward and I regain enough mobility to at least drag myself to the nearest wall, which is pitifully difficult considering the sobs racking my entire body. I grab onto the corner to support myself into an upright position, but only make it to my elbow. My heart literally feels like a heavyweight in my chest, pulling me down every time I try to lift up like gravity. And the harder I fight, the worse it feels, until a constricting sensation spreads across my entire chest and I can barely breathe.
Tony is buttoning up his suit across the room. He wasn't coming toward me, actually, but instead heading toward the door. "I believe we're done here," he announces, with a remorseless ring of authority like we just closed a business deal. "You're clearly in no condition to clean up this mess, though, Tessa." He gestures to encompass the gruesome scene of blood, pain, and tears. "So here's what you're going to do. You're going to call 911 exactly thirty minutes after I leave. When the police and paramedics arrive you're going to tell them your brother committed a tragic suicide and you walked in on it. You tried to stop him but you were too late, which is why you're covered in his blood. There was absolutely no foul play involved. Do you understand?"
I don't respond, but Tony is only concerned with my comprehension, not my verbality. And he and I both know that I have no choice but to do what he says. As if to reinforce this, he gives a short nod, one of grim satisfaction, and turns on his heel to leave. At the door he pauses to close the trap door on the alarm keypad, and turns back to me with another one of those Grinch smiles.
"Oh, and Tessa?" he says. "Don't even think about telling the police or Frank about this. If you murmur a single word about me, a burglary, your parents, or anything other than what I told you to say, I'll continue the terms of the ultimatum. That means coming after the people you hold dear. And since Daniel has been taken care of, that means Jason is next."
This is truly another slap in the face on top of everything else - or it is something far worse, a great and terrible blow that causes a pain that can never heal. Whatever it is, it's enough to stifle my senses. The last thing I hear is the door close as Tony leaves. After that, irrevocable fear, shame, despair, and hopelessness completely overwhelm me, gripping every cell in my body, every chamber of my heart, every corner of my soul. Suddenly my elbow isn't enough to hold me up anymore, and I collapse, spasms rocking me down to my core. My breath shortens and jerks out of my throat, incapable of forming a proper cry until I curl up into the fetal position. I must return to the human's most childish and vulnerable form in order to cry like I'm about to. And I do.
I don't even know where it all comes from - the multiplicative tears pouring out of my eyes, the sobs rising from the pit of my stomach, the wails escaping my throat, the sheer and intangible agony rippling through me with each part of the process. I'd like to reject the entire situation, let myself sink into denial simply because the circumstances are too ghastly and nonsensical for me to accept. But my body is telling me that's impossible by reacting in this way. I'm not just crying - it's something much more basal and exhausting than that. My insides feel like they're seeping out. This must be what weeping is like: shedding tears for reasons beyond anger, sadness, or frustration, for people out of touch but always in your heart, for a world so wicked and merciless that it must've been designed with your misery in mind.
I do stop eventually, but it is not by my command. It's only because I have nothing left in me. In the emptiness reality creeps its way back in and I become aware of everything around me again. A murderer was in my home, I'm covered in blood, my brother was shot dead. Danny - no, Danny's body - lies across from me, the disconnect so potent it's like we're on opposite sides of a void. I can't believe that that void will never be filled, and I'll have to see it grow when they carry him away, as his body is lowered into the ground, as the space he had in my heart disappears and aches for the rest of my life...
Nausea rolls over me and I swallow back bile. I can't think about that right now. I can't think about anything but what's in front of me. Danny. My brother. His body. He deserves my care in death, even after I failed to protect him in life. A voice of reason pushes through my consternation and prompts me to take the necessary action. I feel like Antigone, a suffering heroine determined to give her brother a proper burial in hopes that it will grant their cursed family peace. I have to do this and be stronger than I was when I saw this happen to my parents.
I summon up enough strength to crawl over to the kitchen. Once I reach the phone I grope around for the receiver and it falls to the ground beside me. With shaky, blood-stained fingers I dial 911 and surprisingly stay sane as it rings.
"911, what's your emergency?" the female operator drawls.
"H-hello, my brother's been shot - I-I mean, he shot himself," I reply, bursting into tears yet again as I say it. "My brother's dead. Please help me."
The monotony in her voice disappears, melting into calm concern. "Okay, sweetheart, take a deep breath," she advises. "Everything's gonna be alright. Can you tell me your name and where you are?"
I stutter out my full name and address.
"Okay, Tessa, the police and an ambulance are on the way," the operator tells me. "Can you describe to me a little bit of what happened or what you saw? What's in front of you right now?"
"I - I - " The words fail to form themselves and come out as more blubbering cries.
"It's okay, Tessa. Just stay on the line with me until the paramedics get there. What's your brother's name?"
"D-Danny. Daniel."
There's a pause on the other end, and I clutch the phone to my ear with both hands, panicking. Is she still there? Did we lose the connection? What if she was tracking me by the signal?
"Daniel Klein," she says finally, her voice faltering a little bit. "You're Daniel Klein's sister? My God - I knew him. We worked together here at North Shore. Oh honey, I'm so sorry, help is on the way - "
I think she says something else, but I don't hear her. My ears start ringing again and I drop the phone - it clatters to the ground and the noise is tinny and distant. Something about her tone and sudden slip into the past tense remind me just how real and devastating this all is, and I can't handle any more pretense. I don't need her telling me that she knew Danny and that everything will be alright, when she didn't know him at all and things are so obviously not alright.
I crawl away from the phone and back over to Danny's body. His eyes have closed and the furrow in his brow has disappeared. He almost looks peaceful - except for the deathly pallor of his skin and the puddle of blood surrounding him. My heart twists as I, gingerly, slip my hand into his. I almost flinch at how cold his fingers are but squeeze anyway. I know he won't, but tears flow when he doesn't squeeze back.
"I'm so sorry, Danny," I whisper, guilt tacking itself onto my mountain of emotions. "I'm so, so sorry. Please send me a sign when you get up there with Mom and Dad. Tell them I love them. And I love you. Mahal kita. Please - don't leave me all alone. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. But I can't live without you guys. I just - I can't." A ball of sorrow unfurls and I lean down, weeping over my brother's body like I really am in a Greek tragedy. But this is no theatrical performance.
My brother is dead.