Page 91 of Serial Burn

“You have it aimed at the ground.”

“Well, with my luck, I’d change my mind and the stupid thing would go off anyway.”

“You really want to die?”

A hefty sigh escaped Eli’s lips. “No. I really don’t. I just don’t know how else to make the pain stop. I don’t know how to move on from the past. I don’t know how to repair the damage to us.” He swiped a sliding tear. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I talk to clients all day long andoffer words of advice and what I hope are wisdom, but I can’t seem to put into practice those words for myself. I don’t know how to heal—or forgive—myself.”

Nathan wanted to press his palms to his burning eyes but couldn’t bring himself to take his gaze off the gun. Should he address the whole idea of self-forgiveness now or save it? Maybe just talking would help. “A lot of people think they should be able to forgive themselves, but that’s not really a thing.”

“What?”

“After Danny died and after a couple of years of counseling, I finally started doing research on how to forgive myself for what happened.”

“What’d you find, because it must have worked.”

“I figured out that forgiving yourself just isn’t something you can do.”

Eli huffed. “Well, that’s just great news.”

“The better news is all forgiveness comes from God. The need to find a way to forgive ourselves comes from the need to be released from the guilt we feel about something.”

“Yep, that guilt is a real killer.”

“But guilt isn’t from God. There’s no condemnation in him, remember?”

“I feel condemned. Condemned to a lifetime of pain and guilt. I can’t get away from it.”

“Eli, the issue isn’t you forgiving yourself, but accepting the forgiveness that God offers you. In doing that, you’ll find that he gives you the ability to release the guilt and shame that’s got a stranglehold on you.” He sighed. “Once I realized that I have no power of forgiveness over my own sins, that it was up to God, then because I believe he is who he says he is—which is a loving, forgiving God who has a plan for my life—then...” He rubbed both hands down his cheeks. “I chose to grab on to that and hold it tight. Some days it’s more tangible than others. But I feel it. I feel his forgiveness. And even when I don’t feel it, I still know it because I know him. That’s why I know you can too.”

Eli had been hanging on every word. His eyes started to glow with a fragment of hope. “You really think so?”

“I know so. One hundred percent.” He eyed the weapon. “We’ve gone years, Eli, without all of ... this. Why now?”

“You know, Mom and Dad never once accused me or blamed me for not watching out for you guys. They never said a word. And they never looked at me with accusation in their eyes. And because they didn’t, it helped me bury it all.” He flicked his gaze to Nathan. “That and the fact I could tell you didn’t remember that I was supposed to be there, that there were some gaps about some things. Like my best bud came by to hang out and we had the music going so loud, I didn’t hear the screams until it was too late.” More tears swept down his cheeks and he swiped them away with his sleeve. A shudder rippled through him. “Anyway, I’d buried it for so long that I figured it would stay there. But then I had a client who was responsible for the death of her brother. She’d done something similar—played a mean trick on him—and he died. She was devastated. Turned to drugs and alcohol to dull the pain. In rehab, she had to face it, and one of the things she’s supposed to do upon leaving the inpatient facility is to get counseling three times a week. Guess who was assigned to her?”

“You.”

“Of course. When she was telling me about it, you can imagine the memories that dredged up for me. I tried to stuff it all back down, but it wouldn’t stay there. I wake up in the night from nightmares of trying to break into the shed to get you and Danny out. I can’t eat. I can’t focus at work. I can’t do anything but grieve and try to figure out what I need to do to fix it. The only thing left was to come clean.”

“That explains a lot.” Nathan hesitated. “We’ll work through this, Eli. You didn’t mean for anything to happen to Danny. I know that.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t blame me.”

Be honest or say what his brother needed to hear? Eli would see through anything less than honesty. “Yeah. I blame you. But the truth is, you’re not completely to blame. I was a dumb kid too. We both were. Unfortunately, sometimes stupidity has tragic consequences.We can’t change that, but we can make sure we do our part to help other kids going through the same thing. You in your counseling and me”—he lifted a shoulder—“however I can do that in my role as an agent. Even though I despise public speaking, I speak to schools and other groups, and I think sometimes my words make a difference.”

“I’m sure they do.”

“Can I have the gun, Eli?”

Another harsh breath left his brother, but he handed the gun over to Nathan, who unloaded it, noting with relief no bullet had been chambered. “Any other weapons I need to know about?”

“Just in Dad’s gun case and I don’t have the key.”

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to get the case open if he really wanted to. “Why don’t you come stay with me for a while at the Airbnb? At least while I’m in town. When this case is over, we’ll figure something else out.”

“So you can keep an eye on me?”

Nathan met Eli’s gaze once more. “Yes.”

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