Page 65 of One Killer Night
I slowly slide it from its spot, glancing up at my door to double-check that nobody’s coming in. I’d brought it from home when Goldie began sleeping over more often. I couldn’t risk her finding it or the questions she’d ask when she did.
That first night we were together was too close for comfort.
My eyes close for just a second, helping me steady myself before I lay it on my desk and stare down at the weathered material. There are fingerprint oil–stained marks scattered around the top, soaked in over time from my skin because I’ve opened this envelope too many times to count. But here I am anyway.
My jaw tenses as I unwind the fraying string that holds it closed before I upend it. The familiar news articles scatter across my desk before I reach for the first one.
Dark Days in Darkwater
I close my eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and pull the rest of the headlines closer. Reading each one and lingering.
Massacre Leaves Broken Hearts in Small Town
Body Never Found
Lone Survivor Drops off the Grid
My office chair creaks as I lean back, staring at the history, before I reach back inside for the notes—four of them written on yellowed papers that have served to define my whole life. I hate these notes.
But like a fucking sadist, I start pulling them out anyway ... then stop. My eyes fix on the colored paper just peeking out as my jaw works.
“Why am I doing this?” I whisper to myself, but I don’t have an answer.
For so long, I’ve lived trapped in this fucking folder along with these articles and letters. But since meeting Goldie, everything’s changed. The impossible feels real and right within my reach. When am I going to trust that I can live the life I deserve?
I almost hear that last part of my thoughts in my mom’s voice.
Without warning, the memory of the cops standing at the door makes my throat tight.
Police lights swirl around the sky, bleeding into the small windowpanes. I turn over my shoulder and eye two cop cars parked in front of our house.
Everything after I stand feels like it’s happening to someone else—my soda missing the table, tumbling to the floor ... me walking to the door as another officer shakes his head as he comes up the path.
It’s all lagging as I try and focus on my breath, but I only hear it inside my head. I swing open the door, the knocking registering after the fact, my eyes volleying between them.
The older of the two takes his hat off, pressing it to his chest.
“Son, we’re so sorry to be here ... We did everything we could to save her ...”
My chest feels like it’s caving in as I shake my head quickly to pull myself from that place—the one I don’t want to live in anymore.
Because I don’t have to. I can leave this now. I can just be Noah and Goldie.
“Focus on the here and now,” I breathe out, past the sadness, because there’s no point in looking backward.
My mother lived her life looking at the past, but I’m free.
I’m here doing exactly what she wanted for me. Living the life she couldn’t give me. Not with her always having a reason to look over her shoulder and a hammer waiting to drop.
“It’s time,” I say, taking one last deep breath and finally letting it all go—my past, the worry, and the goddamn burden of it all. “Be done with it.”
I lift my head and stare into the middle space as the chaos stops feeling like it’ll always win out. Goldie, and this life ... Nothing beats this peace.
As I leave the office, I make two stops, one to see my boss and the other at the dumpsters out back. And this time, I don’t regret tossing the folder. That’s the thing about starting over—you can’t look back.
Chapter Fifteen
Goldie
