DING DONG THE WHICH IS DEAD?
Blake sat up in bed, laughing at something Lucas said. I watched them from outside Blake’s hospital room. Never thought I’d see them paling around together. I guess it was good to see them laughing but, something about it unsettled me too.
I’d waited outside long enough. Blake would get out tomorrow or the next day, Lucas already had stitches in his head and a sling over his shoulder keeping his right arm in place from the dislocation when he hit the floor. All patched up and ready to go.
My leg still hurt, random aches and pains all over my body from the last three days. Any agency psychologist will tell you it’s not the physical scars you need worry about.
One big problem was off my plate at least. Her. Dead and gone. We were wrong. When one dies, we didn’t both die. Some sort of bypass switch got hit. I didn’t even feel the bullet once she closed her eyes for good.
The DEA was so turned around by the fucked up mess of it all they still hadn’t caught up to me. I helped Lucas to his feet in the stairwell and didn’t let him look back. We drove straight here. He insisted on seeing Marjorie before he got patched up. Guess I understood since she is his sister after all. My brief experience with having a sister was not typical, I realize that. For her, what did Daddy used to say? I wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire. Don’t think Daddy ever said it about a woman though.
So, yeah, enough loitering in the hall. Time to get in there and take the next step. What comes after, I still don’t know. No way to plan ahead with something as crazy as what I’ve been through.
Now that the balance is returning, this next bit won’t be easy. Not one bit. Saying goodbye never is. My two favorite guys in the world.
Funny, all the security at my office, Lucas’s office, hell, a fucking post office these days has more security than a hospital. A girl could bring a knife in here and not even have to worry about hiding it.
The gun I left behind. Too much noise anyway. Around here? They got needles, scalpels, chemicals, anything you need. Me? All I need is my knife and two minutes alone with these guys.
Not gonna be easy. No, sir. But I didn’t come this fucking far for a dry hump. Might as well be one of those sorry bitches who gets left at the altar. No, that’s not me anymore.
Only wish that goody-goody cunt could have been alive to see it.