Page 52 of What I Should Have Known

“See? Deathshouldscare me.”

“Don’t do it,” I whispered, but he seemed to not be listening or notice I’d spoken.

“Rational people are scared of death,” he continued.

“Bernie, please,” I pleaded again.

He smiled wickedly, his eyes black. “But death is the only thing that makes fucking sense to me.”

And he squeezed the trigger.

“No!” I cried out.

Lunging forward, I crashed against his arm as the gun simply clicked.

Clicked.

As my knees slammed into the sleeping bag on either side of his waist, he barely budged from my movement despite being drunk. My fingers dug into his arm, my heart racing.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” I screamed, tears flooding down my cheeks.

His head lazily flopped sideways toward me, once again, a world away. “We weren’t even friends at first. I didn’t like him. He was way too quiet, too…exact in his ways,” he muttered, and slowly, his arm lowered, drawingmy hands and the gun away from his head. Bernie gestured to my left, to the opposite side of him, and there on the ground was the magazine. Empty. The bullets sat scattered around it.

He’d known this entire time that squeezing that trigger wouldn’t actually do anything.

Yet, he’dstillsqueezed it.

Returning my gaze to Bernie, it was only then that I realized how both hollow and heavy he looked. As if split between two lives, two worlds. As if two separate beings were crammed into one soul.

Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as Bernie’s gaze shifted. Every haunting, dark feature upon his face flipped into something of anguish and pain. “I’m drowning, Kat, and I don’t know how to make it stop,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine.

“It’s okay,” I whispered and placed a hand against his cheek.

He slowly shook his head, unblinking as if attempting to remain whole. “I don’t want you to try and save me.”

I gave him a tender smile and slid my other hand down his arm, wrapping my fingers around the gun. It may have been unloaded. It may not even have a mag in it, but I needed him to focus on just me.

“I’m not worth saving,” he added beneath his breath.

I furrowed my brows, feeling his fingers tighten around the gun as he pulled his other hand out from under me.

“I don’t even like drinking alcohol,” he continued and tossed the flask down beside the bullets.

Slowly, I slipped my hand from his cheek and threaded it through the back of his hair. He closed his eyes, his features tightening beneath my touch.

“Funny since the first time I met you, you were absolutely wasted then too,” I whispered.

He chuckled. “Everyone expects me to always be happy. To always crack jokes. Even my mom asked what’s wrong with me lately.”

“Bernie,” I began and finally managed to shove the gun out from his hold. The moment the metal released from his fingers, I tossed it away and scooted closer to him. “I don’t expect any of that. So, please. Just… talk to me.”

He shook his head, his face even with mine, and I ignored the pungent liquor on his breath.

“Tell me. Let me drown with you so we can swim together,” I said again. “Who’s Duncan?”

He exhaled heavily, silence filling the space between us. The sound of crickets rose through the night air and an owl hooted. I continued to sweep my fingers back and forth through his hair, and his breathing slowed.

Then, with a rush of gentle exhaustion, he spoke. “The reason I was in Arlington.” His confession danced quietly into my ears. “The reason my whole team was there. The entire group of people you said were very loud and crude.”

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