Page 45 of Demise

And then it hits me like a landslide. Those many years ago, I hadn’t just broken up with Danny, I’d broken up with my love for photography. I’d let go of the girl who dreamed and had a love for art. The girl who wore blue jeans on Saturday nights and hung out with the boys. The one who played poker with Uncle Hale and loved the wild side of Danny O’Brien just as much as the sweet and caring side.

I’d broken up withmyself.

It’s as if I had to let go of everything I once was to move on from him, because everything that made me who I am loved him.

I became this person I didn’t recognize. I wasplayingthe part. This whole time I was being someone I wasn’t.

And now I recognize this is my start over, my second chance to find myself again.

Tomorrow is gone. The past is where it should be. I’m shedding the skin I’ve been wearing. I’m done with the pretenses. Fuck the lies, fuck the guilt.

Knowing there’s a camera shop just a few blocks over, I put the car in reverse and head that way.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Bones

I lean against the brick wall, hitting my cigarillo, watching two vultures tear away at a dead carcass across the street. The early morning fog hangs low, the clouds gray and snow-filled. One bird gets greedy, turning to face the other, asking for a fight.

I lift my collar, resting my smoke between my lips. Two days ago, I agreed I’d do this. I knew the moment I heard the tapes Paul obtained. He was aware of what he was doing. He knew he needed to get something concrete so I would help Sweep, Trig, and myself get out of this mess we’re in.

He hit gold.

The coals were stoked, and now I’m burning inside with revenge. I’ll call Moretti and have a nice conversation. He’ll ask how I’ve been and lie when he says he’s glad I’m back.

It’s a funny thing how a man can change. There was a time he would have done anything for me and vice versa, but now, well, just like those two vultures, greed has made him turn on me.

A trip is required so I can get a good grasp on how he’s working down there. I need to see his office, where he’s living. I need to find his local

eating spots and hangouts. To do that, I’ll need to stay there for a few days. The thing about Moretti is he’s a creature of habit. He’ll go to the same spots, speak with the same people. It won’t be hard to figure out his routine.

The pigs need me to get him to admit a crime or have him call out a hit, but fuck that, I have bigger plans.

Once upon a time there was a love-struck kid who wanted out of this lifestyle. He had this idea—

he and his girl could live a normal life together—but that idea was viewed like a bug that needed to be squashed.

A gun was put to my head, and I was told that I would never have that option. I accepted that then, knowing one day, after I made my money, I’d have the option again. I’m older, wiser, and nearly done with the bullshit that comes along with this lifestyle. Here’s to turning “I would if I could” to “I am, and I will”.

I rub my stomach. I went to the doctor for a checkup on my wounds earlier. I’m healing faster than anticipated. Everything’s going well. Bexley was glad to hear it.

I stole a spare key from her key holder in the kitchen, and I’ve spent the past two nights on her couch. Not in her bed. She seems to be going through her own battles, and I just don’t know how to be there for her except be there.

She’s not talking much. Last night I showed up after she fell asleep.

The house was quiet, just a hum coming from the fan upstairs. I walked up and into her room. She was lying on her back, her dark hair splayed around her. I contemplated climbing in beside her, but I’ve been doing my best to respect her space.

I picked up the ice pack, which had fallen off the bed, kissed her forehead, and pulled the covers over her exposed leg. One that I had a hard time not touching.

I returned the ice pack to the fridge, helped myself to the leftover pizza on the counter, and accidentally bumped her laptop beside it. The screen lit up and I narrowed my eyes. It was an airplane ticket.

She was leaving.

A car approaches, causing my thoughts to scatter like the scavengers. They fly up onto the light pole, their heads tilting in an odd way as they observe us below along with their food.

Henry climbs out. He looks around, as do I.

“I understand we’re a go,” he says, shutting his car door.

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