Page 13 of Running to the Mountain Man

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Little girl, I don’t know what you did, but that man looked like a melting popsicle when they found him.”

That’s horrible.

I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to get sick long enough so I could run off. I didn’t mean for my old-ass husband to chase me, only to die in the creek!

So many emotions flood me that I can’t distinguish one from the other.

I don’t mourn the man. I mourn everything that led to this. I mourn the state of everything our little tribe has become under the rule of a dictator. Everything that made me choose violence.

Neglect. Abuse. Forced marriage. Forced childbirth. Unchecked power. Overwhelmed parents. Child labor. And now, I’m a murderer. When I hadn’t even meant to be. Not like this!

I mourn simply everything.

Chapter Six

Barrett

I’ve never considered myself averse to tears.

But I’m naked, semi-erect, holding a knife, and talking to a stranger who’s been sleeping in my bed.

I go with, “Please stop crying.”

That does not work. In fact, it only makes Goldie cry harder.

“Everything is so …fucked!” she cries. I find myself smirking at this because she doesn’t seem all that comfortable with curse words.

“I’m sorry everything is fucked,” I say.

She’s on a rant now. “Nothing was supposed to be like this. All three of us were supposed to leave together. But they switched the game on us. It’s like they’re working with a whole other playbook, and the hits just keep coming. None of us know what’s going to happen next. They keep changing the rules.”

Seems like there’s a story there. I should put on pants for this.

“Hang on,” I say, going to my closet, taking the knife with me. Just in case.

I can still hear her sniffling while I pull on a pair of sweatpants in the closet.It tears at my heart. Clearly, she’s going through something.

“All I’ve ever done was my best. They all pin everything on me. They always have. I’m the one they point to when people don’t follow the rules. I…I just can’t take it anymore, okay? I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Okay,” I say evenly.

I leave the knife in a drawer in my closet. She really does seem inconsolable at the news about this man, and some other stuff. I’ve seen people lying about all kinds of shit, and she does not strike me as a liar. Not about the murder.

Goldie is definitely lying about being a renter because I don’t make a habit of renting out this place.

But she didn’t intentionally kill anybody; I know that for sure.

“What’d you need a break from?” I ask, sitting down on the bed.

“My husband!” she wails, her head thrown back as if she totally forgot until this very moment that she’s married.

I’m not going to lie; I feel more than a little disappointed that she’s not single.

“Oh,” I say dumbly.

Goldie sniffles. “Are you going to call the police on me?”

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