Page 103 of Love Takes Home

He pulls a piece of broken wood from his back pocket. It’s not very long, only about eight inches, and it’s jagged at the ends. I warily look at him, trying to figure out his game.

“Want to know what this is?” he asks, holding the wood up and inspecting it. “It’s a piece of your cello. It was the first thing that was destroyed.”

“And why do you have it?” I rasp out, my mouth having gone dry.

“We have to make it look real. How poetic if the weapon that you kill yourself with is your own instrument.”

I stare at him in horror, realizing he’s really planning to do this. This man wants to stab me to death with a broken cello!

“You know that won’t work, right?” I try to reason with him. “That wood isn’t thick enough. It’ll just break off.”

“Look around.” He motions to the room. “It’s not like I don’t have plenty of tries. There’re thousands of other pieces for me to choose from.”

“You know that those boys are going to be facing multiple felonies for what you made them do, right? My cello alone was worth almost five thousand dollars.”

He stares in shock for a moment. “You’re telling me I had access to things worth that much money the whole time we lived together?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And the instrument here? Was the least expensive one I own.”

“Motherfucker. I should have taken them with me and sold them.”

“You should have, but you’ll never get to them now.”

“I guess my consolation is that now you won’t have them either, because you’ll be dead.”

He steps closer and raises the piece of wood. I lift my hand, steady the gun in my grip, and as his eyes widen as he realizes what I have, he has enough time to take a final breath. I pull the trigger as I hear someone yelling my name. It’s a clean shot. Joker would be proud.

Joker.

That’s who was calling my name.

Keith drops to the floor as a hand reaches out and pulls the gun out of my own. Joker’s here. I’m safe. Without hesitation, he turns to Keith’s body and pulls the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.

He drops the gun and turns to me. “Ginny, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I automatically reply, and even I can hear that my voice sounds dead. There’s no emotion because I can’t feel them. I’m numb. I can’t move my eyes from the body. The dead body lying in front of me. “Is he dead?” I need to verify.

“He certainly is now,” he confirms. “Ginny?”

“What?”

“Can you look at me?”

“No. I don’t think I can.”

He mutters, “Fuck,” and sits behind me, pulling me into his arms.

I let him. I think he needs this. He needs to hold me, so I’m gonna let him do that. It takes a minute to register that he’s on the phone.

“Sam, you need to come to the school right now.” Pause. “Just get here. And just you for now, okay?”

He ends that call and hits another button.

“You need to get Trish back here. Now. We’re at the school.”

I can hear Davis’s reply, having perked up at Trish’s name.

“Is Ginny okay?”

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