Page 60 of Nightmare

14

“See that lady?”

We’re standing outside a quiet restaurant, the air cool around us, the night quiet and almost sleepy. There are only a few people sitting inside, and a few outside, but Western is pointing to a woman, a woman who is sitting on her own at a table outside, her fork twirling pasta but not once does she bring it to her lips. She’s staring down at the plate, her gaze not seemingly focusing on anything. It’s as if she isn’t even there.

It's as if she is just a lifeless body functioning without a soul.

“Yes,” I say, my voice shaky.

“The man you saw tonight, he took her daughter. Sold her overseas. Found out she had been killed. The police marked her as a runaway. We were helpin’ her find her daughter. We didn’t make it in time. That man was the scum of this earth.”

I press a hand to my chest, my heart shattering for the poor woman sitting alone. Is what Western telling me true? Were they simply ridding the world of the bad? If so, do I really have it in me to be horrified at what he has done? My mind is spinning, and I can’t seem to make it stop. Turning away, I walk off into the dark night, needing to clear my head.

It might be that he was doing the world a favor, but he still murdered someone.

Booted footsteps fall behind me, but I don’t turn. Soft rain begins falling, but I don’t stop. I keep walking, even when the rain gets heavier and my skin begins to tingle with the cold. Water dripping off the end of my nose has me swiping at my face, fighting back the tears that I’ve been hanging onto for most of the night. I can’t seem to make them stop, even when I want them to.

“Stop.”

Western’s voice is gravelly and thick, but I don’t obey his command.

“Fuck. Stop.”

Anger laces his tone.

It’s not enough to make me turn around.

“Stop!” he roars, and I flinch, closing my eyes as my feet come to a stop.

I’m soaked now, and everything inside me is shivering. Turning slowly, I look to the man behind me. He’s soaked now, too, water dripping from his thick beard. He’s beautiful, out here in the dark, soaking wet.

“You killed someone,” I say, and the moment those words leave my lips, my voice begins to shake and the tears fall. “I know it might be justified, but you still did it all the same. I have been out here, fighting for your name, wanting to believe that you’re misjudged, but tonight you showed me I was wrong.”

He steps up to me, the faint scent of leather tickling my nose.

“I killed someone,” he responds, gruffly, “but I didn’t killthem.”

My heart explodes with emotion.

I hiccup and angrily swipe the tears away.

“You shot him, Western. As if his life didn’t matter.”

“It didn’t.”

“Is that for you to decide?”

He stares at me, his eyes empty.

“Make no mistake that I will spend my life riddin’ this world of the fuckin’ scum. I was behind bars, and they were still out here doin’ the things I was accused of. I never asked you to agree with it.”

Part of me knows he’s right, but there is still that part, the bigger part, that is afraid.

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