Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
The world blurs behind him.
“There are so many reasons I can’t—I couldn’t.” He’s quick to correct himself but that mistake forces him to heave in a flustered breath.
“Just tell me the truth,” I plead with him.
“That’s what I want to do, Delilah.” His eyes hold nothing but sincerity. “I want to tell you everything.”
Marcus
Twelve years ago
Some things never change. Like the streetlamp on Parkway Avenue coming on before the rest of the lights in the vicinity. Or the bench outside of the hardware store being fully occupied with high school kids. The roll of wheels from skateboards and the chatter bring back memories.
Back then, they were the big kids. Now I’m around their age, maybe older.
The keys clang in my hand as I twirl them around my fingers. The small shop area used to be bustling this late at night. I noticed the new mall down the highway coming in and wondered if it would affect the stores here.
Maybe some things do change.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here.
Things are tedious upstate and I may have been a little reckless. While the heat dies down, it’s best to get away. I could have gone anywhere, though. Nothing explains why I ended up here in the town I grew up in.
With a few hundred dollars in my pocket, and a car to stay in, I could go just about anywhere. So long as I don’t get caught, I’m golden. The fake license, the fake storylines—it’s all worked out well for me these last two years. It’s easy to make necessary acquaintances when you know people. And more importantly, when they know your name.
It’s best they don’t see my face, though, or ever meet me in person. I’m far too young. I’ve had to kill too many men already for their arrogance and laughter when they see me. I can’t risk a damaged reputation because some old fuck doesn’t know what’s good for him.
Like I said, it’s tedious. And I needed to get away for a while.
The jingling stops, the clatter of skateboards hitting the sidewalk and the rev of engines at the streetlight behind me turning to white noise. None of it makes any noise at all when I stare straight ahead. Because I see them. Cody’s still living with my uncle. A smirk kicks my lips up as I think, I might be as tall as him now.
They walk side by side, Cody right at Uncle Myron’s height. Although it’s obvious he’s younger. He should be headed to college. I saw online and on social media. He got into a few good schools but he hasn’t decided yet where he wants to go.
He’s got a girlfriend too and a job at my uncle’s friend’s construction site.
He wants to be a cop, though. My brother … a cop.
Shaking my head, I wave off the woman who stopped to ask if I’m all right. “Fine,” I answer her and her brow wrinkles. Before I can head out, following down the path Cody and Uncle Myron just took, she asks me, “Are you a Walsh?”
I’ve practiced my expressions a million times. It’s a way to keep people from knowing what you’re thinking. Or vice versa to control a situation. Still, I feel my own expression fall.
Just like how the feeling of dread drops into the pit of my stomach.
I don’t recognize her. Not in the least. The tight white curls that stop above her shoulders may have been dark brown locks long ago. I don’t know who she is, but with that questioning look in her eyes, I can see that she remembers me.
“No ma’am,” I say, putting on a slight Southern accent. “Have a good evening.”
With the dull thud in my chest and the numbing tingling on my skin, I head off with my hands in my pockets and search out my brother. I only look back once and the woman’s still standing there, a bag in one hand and a cane in the other. People move on, people stop talking, and people get forgotten.
Maybe it’s selfish for me not to want to forget Cody, when I’m doing everything I can for everyone to forget who I used to be.
He has everything going for him. I’ve kept an eye out for years. It helps me sleep at night to just check in.
He doesn’t need someone like me. He’s going to be a cop, for fuck’s sake. Melancholy drifts into the darkness of my mind when I turn the corner and no one’s there. Hell, maybe one day he’ll arrest me.
I wonder if he’d know it’s me. I don’t see how he would. I’m dead and long gone and he’s the man everyone thought he’d become.
“Hey kid,” I say, tilting my chin up at one of the smaller kids a good bit away from the others. In his striped shirt and baggy black pants with more pockets than anyone would know what to do with, he’s trying to do some trick on a skateboard that looks far too big for him. “Want to earn a dollar?”