Page 43 of The Wrong Drive

“I don’t know why you don’t want to put up a Christmas tree,” Thomas scoffs as he pours milk into his bowl of cereal. His hair is already graying, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of me. He’s three inches taller than me, and with little effort, hecould’ve outdone me at my best. He looks up at me. “I’ve done it for years here, and never once caught the cabin on fire.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my ears. “I don’t know. Just seems like a bad idea.” I don’t really care about the Christmas tree. I just don’t want to think about the memories that go with it. My head has been buzzing the last few days, my body’s felt antsy, and I can’t figure out what’s going on. Maybe I just need to get out of the house for a while.

“Hey,” Tommy calls after me as I head outside, Gunner hopping down from the couch to follow me. “Where are you going?”

“A walk,” I call over my shoulder to him as I step out into the frigid December air. It’s been mild this winter, but the chill has finally settled in. I rub my hands together, as my boots crunch in the snow.

“You need a coat,” Thomas appears in the threshold of the backdoor. “What’s going on with you? I noticed Gunner keeps?—”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m fine,” I cut him off. “He needs more training or something.”

“Are you… Are you sure?” Tommy joins, falling in step beside me. “Something is off, Turner. You can talk to me about what’s going on. I can take you to see Dr. Newcomb next week. We can work this out. Maybe you should trying an in-house treatment?”

I turn to face him, throwing my hands up. “Why do you always assume something is fucking wrong with me? Maybe if you quit assuming that, I wouldn’t feel so… Messed up.”

“You’ve got that distant, dead look in your eyes.” His expression is riddled with concern, and I hate it. I hate his sympathy. I hate the torture and isolation I’ve brought on him. He reaches out and touches my shoulder.

My head explodes, the touch searing through my body like a fire. Gunner barks at me. Tommy removes his hand and backs away…

And then it all goes dark.

I wake up in the snow, my body sore and my head hurting. I peer down at my hands, covered in dried blood. Gunner whines beside me, and I turn to him, panic thrumming through my body.

“What did I do?” I ask him, my voice shaking. “What did I do?”

But the limp body a few feet away, laying in the snow tells me everything. I immediately crawl to him, my knee smashing into something hard. I glance down to see my rifle. Why is he out here?Why do I have my rifle?Panic and dread flush through my system as I crawl to my brother.

“Tommy?” I choke out. “Tommy.” I grab his arm and roll him over. His face is contorted with pain. His hands grip his chest.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. “What did I do? What happened?”

Blood slips from his lips, rolling down his chin. “You snapped.”

“But I don’t remember,” I say quickly. “I don’t remember it. I gotta call… I need to call an ambulance, Tommy.” I go for his cell phone in his jacket, my hands shaking as I try to unlock it, my numb hands not working right.

Tommy’s hand stops me, knocking the phone out of my hand. “Don’t.”

“Why?” I exasperate, trying to fish it out of the snow.

He lets out a pained breath, and I recognize it. It’s death, bearing down on him. “You don’t belong in prison for this.”

“I don’t want to hurt people,” I plead with him. “If I’m there I won’t…”

His head shakes. “You just have to figure out…” Blood spurts from his mouth again and I try to wipe it away. “You have to figure out how to stop it, feed the monster, something.”

“What?” I exasperate, panic, guilt, and dread suffocating me. “Do I just stay here by myself? What am I supposed to do?”

“Bury me under my favorite tree.” His eyes close, and then he tremors with death, his breaths ceasing. I shake him violently, but it’s too late.

I just fucking killed my brother.

I suck in a gulp of air as a hot breath pants on my face. I come to, staring into the face of Gunner, his wet nose nudging me. I stare into his chocolate-brown eyes, hating everything about myself in the moment. Rage toward myself sears through my body. It’s a flood of heat, coursing through my veins like a drug—but the realization is still there, even in my descent into madness.

All the killing I did to try and feed the monster after Thomas’s death, I tried to say was in the name of trespassing, but it was just an attempt to stave off the pain. And it’s time for it to end. I rise to my feet, and with numb, methodical movements, I exit the room.

My footsteps are quiet on the stairs as I make my way out into the snow. There’s only one thing that Em really needs for Christmas. There’s only one thing I really want to do for her—and that’s to fucking save her from me.

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