October 20
Twenty-Four Years Ago
12:40 A.M.
Shit, is that your boyfriend? Shit!” said Arnold. “What are we going to do?”
Mish had to think fast. Brooks was here. What was he doing here? Was he coming back to see Leo? Was he? That fucking asshole. How much did he see? How much did he know? Did he see her shoot her dad?
“Get out of here!” she told Arnold. She gave him a shove. “I’ll take care of him. You didn’t see anything. You don’t know anything.”
“Mish . . .”
She closed her eyes. She didn’t have time to argue right now. Right now, Leo was dead and she had just shot her father. “GO AWAY, ARNOLD! YOU DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”
“Fuck you, Mish,” he said.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Arnold glaring at her, his eyes burning with hate. He knew her. He knew her dark heart. It was why she hated him, because Arnold knew who she really was. She despised him for knowing her.
“Fuck you, Arnold,” she shot back. “What are you going to do? How can you help? You’re just the fucking neighborhood loser. Go! You can’t help me! Leave!”
Arnold shook his head and went out the back door, slamming it behind him.
She could hear Brooks outside. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
Arnold didn’t respond.
What was the story? What was she going to tell Brooks? How was she going to explain this?
She’d tell him the truth, or as much of the truth as she could tell. That she’d walked in on them, and her dad killed Leo. Then he killed himself. Right. Her dad had killed himself. Obviously.
That was the story. That was the story she’d tell for the rest of her life. And the first one to hear it was Brooks.
“HELP!” she screamed. “HELP! HELP ME! THEY’RE DEAD!”
Brooks burst through the door, confused. “What’s going on?”
Then he saw. His face turned white and he backed away from her, but Mish was having none of that.
She collapsed in his arms. “Oh, Brooks, thank god! Thank god you’re here!”