Page 26 of Oathbreaker

I killed Adam Collins.

Move one leg. Then the other.

I’m upright.

The Tahoe idles with the driver door open, and I hop over to it, testing what weight I can put on my ankle now that it’s had time to swell. I can walk, but not very well.

I grab the duffle bag from the passenger seat and pull out a fresh T-shirt and black basketball shorts to wear without looking at them—Adam’s spare outfits. The fabric against my skin feels warm yet rough. I welcome it. Also, I want to strip it off and peel my skin from my bones while I’m at it.

Control. Control yourself.

I reach into the bag again, and a wail of dismay escapes me when I realize he doesn’t have a spare pair of shoes.

“Of all the things he could overlook,” I say to the trees.

Something un-nameable forces me to repeat myself. “Of all the things he could overlook!”

A snort flies out of me, and that sound turns into a giggle which turns into a full-blown hysterical laugh. My broken ribs and the cracks in my lip protest, but I can’t stop.

I gaze at Adam’s body and contemplate stealing his shoes.

“He creates an elaborate plan to abduct me but forgets to bring more shoes!” I cackle, scream at the sky, a small kernel of my brain realizing I’m breaking, devolving into madness.

I slide behind the wheel, leaving the door ajar with my shoeless feet suspended over the running board.

My ankle is almost twice the size of the other, and the sight causes a new wave of laughter to bubble up.

Howling echoes around me and I snap my head up, looking along the tree line for threats. I haven’t seen any wolves or bears in my time here, but I wasn’t really looking for them.

The animal calling out in the woods right now is entirely too close for comfort.

I swing my body to face the steering wheel, slamming the door shut and locking it for an extra layer of protection.

Wildlife can’t work a car door, Winter.

The thought makes me snort again.

I stare at the instrument gauges.

“Put your foot on the brake and shift into ‘drive,’ Winnie.”

Daddy’s voice is so clear in the vehicle, I jump in the seat. It feels like he’s right there.

When I confirm that he’s not, I take a cleansing breath. A grounding breath. When I close my eyes, I allow myself to be comforted by the memory.

We’re in an abandoned church parking lot somewhere near Mom’s hometown. I still wear my Sunday dress—the lace on my socks scratches my ankles.

I’m on Daddy’s lap, steering our sedan around the parking lot while he drives in slow circles. The windows are down. Sade’s Smooth Operator blasts through the stereo. A bright smile shines from Mom’s face. She’s just a lawyer now, not a U.S. Representative.

“Smoooooooth,” Mom drawls.

“Operatooooooor,” Daddy chimes in.

I join them, singing along to the chorus of the song. We drive in circles for the whole ride. When it’s finally time for me to hop in the back seat, Mom and Daddy look at each other from their vantage points in the front seat. Their kiss is brief, but when they part, they smile.

I flex my bloodied hands against the steering wheel of the Tahoe and stare at Adam’s body. When the wolves come out of the shadows, I allow myself to feel. Because as they circle his body, I smile.

I killed Adam Collins. And I’m glad I did it.

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