After I walked away that night, I got my clothes on and walked outside. But then I saw Luca standing in front of the car, waiting like he had nowhere else to be.
He told me Zander asked him to take me home.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t thank him either. I just got into the car and stared out the window the entire drive, my arms wrapped around myself like I could hold everything together if I tried hard enough.
I couldn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, my body remembered things my mind didn’t want to. Heat. Hands. A voice low in my ear. Then the memories twisted, turned sharp, and my father’s face replaced his.
The sound of the gunshot echoed in my head.
The way he fell.
The way the blood spread too fast, soaking into his shirt while I hid behind the door, shaking.
Guilt
