Page 15 of Possession

“I can do it, boss,” Lars offers.

“No, it’s my job to do,” I tell him because it’s the truth.

I haven’t cried in probably twenty years, I’m not even sure that I did back then, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop the tears from running down my face.

I’m a fuck up.

A failure.

I had one job, to protect the woman I love, and I couldn’t even get that right.

“We’ll be here all day if you keep up like this, and we aren’t even sure if she’s here. Give me the shovel.”

The conflict rages inside of me.

On one hand, I pray that she’s not buried in this desolate area, on the side of the road, as if she’s just a piece of trash. As if she isn’t my entire world. But then, on the other hand, a littlepiece of me is dying inside with every minute that passes, and I don’t know where she is.

I have to find her.

After handing Lars the shovel and basically collapsing in an area of brush, I rest my head in my hands and begin sobbing like a child.

I am a total wreck.

What the fuck am I going to do without her?

A sudden harsh sound jars me awake in the passenger seat of the truck and for a brief moment, I don’t know where I am. My eyes open against a glass window and all I see in front of me is a stretch of unfamiliar highway.

“Lars?” I say in a sleepy voice as I try to get my bearings. “What the fuck did you give me?” I ask accusingly, not understanding why I feel so groggy but also very glad it was a nightmare.

Megan is not dead,I repeat to myself.Megan is not dead.

“You haven’t slept in days. You need the rest.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I just dropped a bit of tincture in your drink.”

“What kind of tincture?”

“A THC mixture.”

“You put weed in my cranberry juice? How long have I been out? I should shove your head through that fucking window.”

“If you do that, then you’ll never figure out where we’re headed, and that would be a goddamn shame.”

“I already know where we’re going. The airport.”

I check my phone to see if I’ve got any messages from the club or anything from Megan. I’m desperate for any news at allas I continue to vacillate between wanting to choke the life out of every human being who isn’t Megan or crumbling into a puddle of hopeless mush.

“Negative.”

“What?”

“We’re not going to New Orleans because she isn’t there.”

“Stop the fucking car, Lars.”

Lars swings our heavy black SUV over on the shoulder of the road and it’s only now that I notice the worry lines etched across his face as well.

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