Page 57 of Milo

I've seen death. Lots of death. Like a ghost, it's followed me my whole life. Its claws have been dug into my flesh since I was thirteen. It's become a part of me.

I've only seen death.

Until now.

"Andre!" I grip the pistol tightly in my hand, my finger on the trigger. “…I’m sorry."

And then there's innocence of the soul.

The good. The pure. The holy.

The human.

And as the lead bullet leaves the chamber and travels through the air, the soul that I've tried so hard to preserve, to nurture, to hold sacred—it vanishes, disappears, fades away.

Then the innocence is gone.

And only darkness surrounds me, fills me, devours me.

Renders me immobile.

Chapter 17

White Flag Down

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

"Kiara, can you hear me?" Milo kneels down in front of me. Blood gushes out of his right shoulder, staining his clothing, dripping on my dress, on the filthy cement that I've collapsed on. "Kiara."

Thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven.

"Kiara…” His voice is like the wind, howling in my ears, so quiet, so calm, yet so fucking destructive. "Kiara, please say something."

Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

"It's okay, Kiara.” His warm hand encircles mine, prying the murder weapon out of my rigid fingers. "It is over. You're okay."

And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.

"Milo!" Marchello roars, his heavy footsteps followed by many many others, like the thundering of a pack of wild horses, their hooves beating on the ground, matching the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat. "What the fuck happened? You are bleeding!" A pause. "Is that fucking Andre?"

For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever.

I blink, my gaze focused on him. Only him. No one else.

So still. He's so still. Like an abandoned toxic lake on a summer's day when there's no breeze, no sound, no ripples on the water.

Nothing.

Motionless. He's just an empty vessel. No life. There's no life in him.

I took it.

I took his fucking life.

Milo’s voice is deep and muffled, like echoes in an underwater cave. “Gio, get the fucking car. Now!"

Amen.

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