“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask him, feeling breathless and lightheaded. It’s like I’m not really here. Like I’m just watching this scene unfold.
“She didn’t want me to tell you. But I can’t hide it from you.”
No. My head’s shaking on its own, denying what he’s telling me.
“She asked for the shot, and I gave it to her. I waited until she was asleep. I’m sorry, Derek,” his voice cracks as he wipes the tears from under his eyes.
He continues to cry, looking up at me, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for my forgiveness, maybe? For understanding?
I stare at him, looking so dejected in that chair. Letting the words sink into every vein. Letting them flow through my blood.
My body moves before I’m conscious of it. My boots smack against the floor as my hand balls into a fist. My knuckles crack against his jaw before I even know what’s going on.
He falls to the floor without even trying to defend himself, but that doesn’t keep me from getting on top of him. My hand wraps around his throat, but I’m not fast enough. His fist slams against my nose, cracking against bone. The pain radiates to my temples, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
It hardly affects me. The disbelief of what he’s done, the betrayal of what he’s telling me, is all-consuming. Rage burns deep inside of me.
I don’t waste any time slamming my fist into him again, planting a hard blow against his high cheekbone. He’s just as quick. His legs grip my waist, wrapping around me and pushing me down to the ground as he rolls over. He tries to pin my hands down to keep me from knocking the shit out of him, but I’m too strong for him.
I elbow the fucker in the face as he tries to tell me to calm down. I can hardly hear the words he’s screaming at me. Only white noise is ringing loudly in my ears. Blinding white light flashes before my eyes, and then it all turns red. My knuckles scream with pain over and over and over as they slam into his face. He’s holding on, taking each blow. He’s fighting me back though.
I pour all of my emotion into each hit. I try to move my legs up to get a grip on him, but his thighs are holding me down, pinning me to the floor. He can’t get a grip on my wrists though; he’s trying, but all it’s doing is giving me access to his face. I continue the punches, one after the other. My knuckles split from the impact, the pain shooting through me.
“You bastard!” I scream, finally finding my voice. I yell so loud it hurts, the words scraping against my throat as they leave me. I cling to the anger giving me so much strength; the full realization of what he said is hitting me so hard that I feel like I can’t hold on. “You killed her!” I yell. I can’t take it.
I struggle against him, and get away from his hold for just a moment. It’s long enough for me to pound my fist into his shoulder. I want his throat though. I want to kill him. “I can’t fucking believe you!” I don’t know how I’m even capable of speaking. The words are flying out of my mouth without my conscious consent. My fist slams against Tony’s jaw again. This time I hear bone crunch.
He took her away from me. I’ll make him pay. He deserves to die.
“She wasn’t okay!” he screams back at me. “She couldn’t live like that!” I ignore everything that he screams at me. Every word uttered from his lips is the word of a liar, of a murderer. Not that I didn’t already know that, because we’ve killed plenty, but my Ma is different. It’s unforgivable.
His face is so close to mine. The heat is overwhelming. My body’s shaking. Adrenaline is coursing so fast through my blood. It feels as if I can’t control myself. As he grabs my left wrist, pinning it down, I smash my right fist into his throat. His hands instinctively reach for his neck, finally letting me up. I push him off of me, shoving my fist into his chest. He falls backward, landing hard on the ground. I’m quick to move and slam my knee into his thigh, pinning his body down and preventing him from getting away. I go for his throat with both hands, squeezing as hard as I can, and he goes for mine.
I struggle to breathe. His hands push into the soft spot just below my Adam’s apple. His nails scrape and cut the back of my neck as he chokes me.
His face turns a bright red, swelling from the pressure I’m putting against his own throat, from the lack of oxygen. My body screams to let go of him. It begs me to try to pry his hands off of my throat. But I’d rather die than give up. I want to see the life drained from him. My heart clenches in my chest, pain radiating through every part of me. My body tingles with heated anger. Why him? Why’d he have to do it? Tony is the only friend I've ever had.
“I hate you.” I can’t get the words out. I can’t get them all out. But I got out what matters. Sadness flashes in his eyes as he hears my words, and a sick part of me actually feels pain for him. A part of me wants to forget this happened. Another part of me wishes he’d never told me.Why won’t the world just lie to me?
My lungs feel so empty. My head feels so light. The force of my hold on him slowly wanes as strength leaves me, my body shaking with a need to let go, the need to free myself from the force choking the life out of me.
“Derek!” I hear Sandra scream as she runs toward us.
“Get off him!” Sandra wails as she runs to us. A vision of her blurs as her fist slams against my face, whipping my neck to the side. Her nails scratch at my fingers, desperate to pull them away from Tony’s throat.
“Stop it!” Her high-pitched screech nearly burst my eardrums.
She pushes all of her weight onto my chest, pushing Tony away from me and out of my reach. She struggles for a moment. But I have nothing left in me. He falls backward, away from me and out of my hold. My lungs heave in a breath at the first chance. I roll onto my side, coughing and struggling for air. My eyes burn, my body trembles.
After a few moments, I try to pick myself up. I look up at Tony. The man I grew up with. My best friend. The man who murdered my mother.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I tell him in a raspy voice, the moment I have the breath.
The hurt that was in his eyes earlier isn’t there now. It’s been completely replaced with anger. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me.” His confession surprises me.
He holds my gaze as he says, “It wasn’t about me and you. It was about her.”
CHAPTER17