Page 12 of Insurgent

“It’s Trig.”

“Trig?” I ask, confused. “I don’t know anyone named Trig.”

“Carson,” he says. “It’s Carson.”

“Carson?” I look to the floor. “You’re talking about Carson? The one who always hangs around you and Johnny?” I remember Danny asking Johnny where Trig was after the funeral. I was too upset to care who that person was then.

“Yes, Bexley. Keep up here.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me. How do you know this?”

“The rubber band, didn’t you hear it?”

I shrug. “I…I guess…I didn’t really pay attention. I was too worried about him cutting your tongue out.”

He shakes his head. “None of this makes sense. He’s my boy. He’s been with me since we were teenagers. We took out…” he stops talking, looking up at me.

We don’t say anything, because what’s there to say? Danny almost admitted murder in front of me. The cold truth sinks its nasty teeth back into my spine. I’m here because of this man.

This man, who is a murderer, who has done things I couldn’t imagine nearly all his life—I fell in love with him, and I tried to look past it all, but no matter how far you try to run from it, the truth catches up to you.

“Why do you all have these nicknames?” I ask.

“It’s just something we earned over time.”

“What do they mean? Bones, Sweep, and Trig?”

“Different things,” he says.

“Enlighten me.”

He exhales. “I’ve broken a few people’s faces over the years. Sweep…well, he does a lot of cleaning, and Trig is fast with a gun…too fast.”

I shake my head, still not clear on it. So, they call you Bones because you break people’s bones? Like you broke Samuel’s prom day.”

He winces.

“And Johnny cleans a lot?” I narrow my eyes, moving them back and forth over his face. “You mean he cleans up the things you do.”

“You asked,” he says.

“I’ll do better in the future,” I reply, deadpan.

He clears his throat, looking down. “I’ve always regretted that day,” he says moments later.

“What day?”

“Prom. I never meant to hurt you, Bex. Of all the things I’ve done…that’s at the top.”

I scoff. “You’ve killed people, and standing me up is the thing you regret most?”

“Losing you,” he says and the way he says it…if heartbreak had a voice, it would sound like his. My throat dries, and my heart pounds a little harder. I get a feeling in my chest that only can be described as coming home. Some people say home is a place, but I think home is more than sheetrock and insulation.

Home is a feeling. Comfort, ease. Danny has always done that for me. He looks at me, as I look at him tied to the chair. We’ve both aged, but Danny’s looks are loyal. He’s always been a heartthrob.

“I meant it, you know?”

And I do know. I’ve thought about that day several times throughout the years. How he begged me not to end it. How he got on his knees despite everyone around us. How he asked me to marry him with the idea of us running away and living some fantasy life. Me taking pictures and him…I wouldn’t have any idea what he would have done. I wanted that more than he could ever know. But I realized the truth.

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