"Put the gun down." Mateo's voice is even and controlled, but he's afraid. I don't blame him. From the looks of it, Alex isn't in his right state of mind. None of us are, but Mateo and I are at least aware that we're both fucked if we aren't careful.
"I'm tired of all you rich bastards thinking that you've got the whole world wrapped around your fingers." He spits, eyes ablaze. "You get the girl. You get the happy ending. What about me? I get nothing...I get nothing. It's not fair."
My wound splits open again. I'm back at Marina's watching Valerie seconds before Ugine Solvang positioned his gun against her jaw. She sat rigid in defeat, ready for death. He ran out of bullets, sparring her life, but I know that Alex has bullets in his. There's enough anger in him to do a lot of damage tonight and no amount of luck will save me or Mateo this time. This is a battle of words and time now.
Mateo takes a step forward. "We can talk about this, Alex. Let's meet up with my uncle somewhere and--"
"You think I want to talk? You think that I'm stupid? He'll kill me if he ever found out that I pointed a gun at you, but he won't get that satisfaction. You don't get to have a happy ending, Mateo. You don't deserve to."
"And you do?" I ask. His gaze shifts back and forth between Mateo and I nervously. "You think that if you pull that trigger Carter will be yours again?"
"He'll never be mine regardless and it's your fault."
"Okay, fine. I'm sorry that I ruined your love life."
"You don't mean it. You're only apologizing because I have a gun pointed at your little boy toy."
"Then lower the gun so we can talk."
"Didn't I say I don't want to talk?!"
My lips snap shut and my body tenses at his sudden outburst. I can hear my heart beating wildly in my ears and my face grows warm as tears rise in my eyes.
"Alex," Mateo says, directing the boy's attention back to him. "Let's say you kill me. What next? Your life will be ruined. My uncle will never let you get away with this."
He shakes his head. "What else do I have to live for, Cruz? Like you said, my father is a corpse and the boy I love doesn't want me. My life isn't mine anymore, so why not end it when I end yours? I've actually been thinking about it for a while now: death. What do you think it's like?"
"I don't know." Mateo gulps, taking another step forward. "And I don't want to find out anytime soon."
I want to tell Mateo to stop walking forward. To stop putting himself closer towards immediate death, but my tongue feels heavy in my mouth. He keeps moving and Alex's index finger keeps twitching on the trigger. Don't shoot, don't shoot, don't shoot.
"I have the upper hand here." Alex says, his voice shaking. "You do whatever I want you to. Even die."
"Trust me. You don't want to do this."
"Oh, but I do." He smiles maliciously. "It's your turn to kiss my feet now. Go ahead and kneel down. Do what you forced me to do."
Mateo holds his hands in the air as he slowly kneels to the ground. He leans forward, edging towards Alex's scuffed sneakers when, in one swift motion, he snatches the gun out of his hold, sending it gliding across the room. The football player gets knocked down in an instant, bringing Mateo with him. They struggle on the floor for the upper hand, scratching, punching, and biting like animals.
My world sways as I urge my body off of the bed. When my feet touch the ground, Alex has Mateo pinned with his large hands around his neck and stubby fingers digging into his flesh. All of a sudden I'm desperate. I throw whatever is in my vicinity at Alex, but he remains diligent in suffocating Mateo to death. Next, I use my hand, slamming my fist down on his back using as much force as I can muster.
He roars like a beast, pushing me away with a forceful shove. My butt slams against the floor and my brain spins, eyes blur with tears as I watch Mateo struggle the same way that I did that dreadful night at Marina's. This time there are no knives in sight to help him.
I don't remember picking up the gun. I don't remember pulling the trigger either, but the loudness of the shot and the recoil of the weapon knocks me into my senses. His body falls forward and I blink fast as if trying to clear the image from my mind. Mateo gasps, pushing Alex off of him. He moves agonizingly slowly towards me. I can't tell if it's because he's weak or if he's afraid because this deadly weapon is in my hands and I could accidentally shoot him like I shot Alex.
My eyes fall towards his unmoving body. His blue shirt turns dark and a puddle begins to grow around him. My knees buckle beneath me as nausea begins to overtake my senses.
"I killed him." I whisper.
"You saved me." Mateo says as he takes the gun from my hand, clicking the safety back in place before tucking it into his pants.
I shake my head. "H-he's dead. I killed him. I-"
He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "You saved me, Quince. It was all in defense. It's okay."
But it isn't. I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"Don't." Mateo says. I didn't realize that I said that out loud. "No one can know that we were here. There can't be any evidence that'll be pinned back to us. Now, come on."
"We can't just go. We...we should call the police or something."
"And tell them what, Quince?"
I gulp. "I-I don't know! You said that it was in defense."
"It was, but you're intoxicated. You'll get in trouble for something and I won't be able to help you if you do. We leave him here. Someone will find him. Plus, this is what he wanted anyway."
It still doesn't feel right, but I'm not in the right mind to complain. I let Mateo lead me out the room. There's chaos everywhere as we slip back into the crowd. Everyone must've heard the gunshot. They run for the exits in a frenzy, seeking safety. Amongst the chaos, I hear the soft ringing of police sirens. Mateo hears it too because he tightens his grip on my hand and urges me forward, pushing and shoving past people until we slip through the door.
"Where'd you park?"
"Just down the road."
We walk briskly at first. As the sound of the sirens increases, so does our pace. Before I know it, I have my heels in my hands and we're bolting straight towards his red Lamborghini. It isn't until we're speeding down the road, far away from the chaos, when I notice a red stain on his shirt.
"Did I shoot you by accident?" The fear that rises within me makes my voice shake.
"Huh?" Mateo asks, glancing down at his button down. "No, I'm fine. It's not my blood."
"Oh." I look away quickly, still feeling queasy.
It's the drinks in my stomach I think, but it's also the indisputable fact that I killed someone. I see Alex's body slump over repeatedly in my mind. One moment he's strangling Mateo and the next thing I know, he's spiraled across the floor, eyes wide and afraid. I shake the image out of my head.
"Where are we going?" I ask, suddenly hating the silence.
"To my uncle."
"What?"
When I look at him, his jaw is set and his face is hard, but his eyes are a giveaway. They flicker from the road to the dashboard and to anything that'll stop him from having to look at me.
I gulp back the bile rising in my throat. "I don't trust him."
"It doesn't matter. We have nowhere else to go. Plus, he'll know what to do."
"There has to be someone we can go to besides him." I work my jaw until a name pops into my head. "What about Derek? I saw him talking to Ethan a couple weeks ago. He was in a hurry to leave, so I didn't get a chance to say hi. It would be nice to see him again."
Mateo lets out a long sigh before slowly nodding his head. "Alright. Derek it is."
He makes a u-turn up ahead. Silence lingers on and it slowly drives me insane. I lurch forward to turn on the radio, clicking through stations until I find a song I'm familiar with. The lighthearted beat from the speaker contradicts my rollercoaster of emotions. Still, it distracts me from the past and keeps me rooted in the present. I feel Mateo's hand slip into mine. He intertwines his fingers with mine before lifting the back of my palm to his lips and planting a kiss against my skin that sends tingles down my spine. He holds my hand like that for the rest of the ride.
Maybe he isn't disgusted by me...
I feel repulsed by myself, but I can't think about it: the events that lead up to these emotions because then I'll start to spiral again and that's never good. Especially now when I feel too vulnerable, ready to hurl in Mateo's multi-thousand dollar car.
We arrived at a small modern cottage house. The porch lamp is on, illuminating the red and black exterior. Once Mateo has parked in the driveway, we walk up the path towards the door. It's locked, but Mateo knows where Derek hides his spare keys. It lies in the soil of a majestic palm tree. When he finds it, he unlocks the door without struggle.
It's dark. Good thing too because my brain feels like it's about to explode with just the hanging lamp above our head at the entrance. Mateo knows his way around the house. He guides me around objects too dark to see and into a room on our left. A lamp by the bed flicks on and I take in the cozy interior. The walls are bare, but the dark shade of brown gives off a comforting aura. An oakwood nightstand sits opposite from a matching dresser. A window next to the bed is shut, but the curtains are parted, letting the moonlight spill into the room. Mateo closes it as I sit down on the firm mattress of the bed.
"You can rest here for a bit." He says, turning to look at me. "I should go call Derek to tell him that we're here, but first I'll go find you something to change into."
I force a smile, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "Thank you."
He leaves and he never comes back. At least I don't think he does because at some point, I drift off to sleep. Normally it's hard for me to fall asleep in foreign places, but I guess today is an exception. I've been through a lot in the span of a couple of hours. My body and mind need rest. Too bad only one of those things is possible.
I dream of being shot at by a shadow too quick to see. I dream that the bullets ricochet off my skin and fly into Alex's flesh. I see him fall lymp, a pool of blood growing around him. I see Andrew's and Derek's bodies next to his. The shadowy figure is no longer a shadow. It morphs into Ugine Solvang. He grows as big as my fear, towering over me like a giant iin the night. His voice whispers through my mind. He calls me a murdered; a killer. He tells me that I'm no different than him.
I wake up with a scream lodge in my throat and sweat clinging to my brow. My breathing comes quickly. Like I've just run a marathon. I give myself time to catch my breath and enough time for my brain to differentiate reality from dream. As my heart comes to a calm, I notice speaking in the distance. It takes me a while to register what is being said.
"Are you sure it was him?" Derek asks, voice muffled slightly by the walls separating us.
"Positive. The senator is a tough person to miss." There's a pause. "We know why he was there."
"Sick bastard."
"Tch, tell me about it. I know I was supposed to keep a low profile, but when I saw the motherfucker trying to get to Quince, I had to step in."
The senator? I don't even remember seeing him. To be fair, I have no idea how he looks or what his name even is. Still, I shiver at the thought of him creeping on me. To be quite frank, I don't recall seeing any adults there at all. I suppose I was distracted by Latoya and then Willow and of course the alcohol.
"It's fine. You made the right move. I don't think anyone was sober enough to even remember what the hell happened anyways. As far as Alex goes, you're both safe. For now at least. You didn't leave any DNA, did you?"
"My fingerprints are on the doorknob. I opened it when we had to leave. That's about it."
There's an even longer pause before Derek speaks again. "I'll talk to Officer Reid tomorrow. But if your uncle finds out about any of this--"
"He won't."
"You don't know that though." I hear Mateo sigh, but Derek is insistent, pushing on. "We should report him tonight. I mean, we have the emails between him and the mayor, we have proof that the senator is part of his underground ring too thanks to Latoya, and we know about the gym. We know every person who works for or with him. If we send it all to the FBI tonight, whatever's left of the business will be ours--"
"That's not what I want!" Mateo shouts, his patience wearing thin. Then, more calmly, he says, "at least not yet. Not until I can prove that my uncle is a murderer. I know that he killed my father. It wasn't an accident and I'm so close to proving it. I just need more time."
"Okay. Okay, we'll wait. I'm just worried for you and Quince. He's starting to grow suspicious of the both of you and the longer we give him to snoop, the closer he gets to realizing what we have planned."
"He won't find out." Is all Mateo says.
Silence drifts on and on and on. So much so that I begin to fall back asleep, letting the horrors of slumber claim me again.