October 20
Twenty-Four Years Ago
12:30 A.M.
What is dead may never die. It would be years before Mish would become a Game of Thrones fan, but later, when she thought about what happened next, she would think of the wights, the dead zombies coming to life to attack whatever poor soul was close enough to devour. Arnold had gone to get a towel, and some water, because she was still shaking. But just as she turned away from her father, just as she hung up with 911, just after she had finally called the ambulance—that was when she felt a hand grasp her ankle.
“Urrgggh.” Her father was alive.
The bastard was alive.
His eyes were mean. “This is all your fault.”
She grit her teeth and shook her head. “Shut the fuck up!”
“It should have been you,” he whispered. “It should have been you.”
Mish looked at Leo, lying dead on the floor. Beautiful, vibrant Leo who had just turned sixteen years old. Her father was telling the truth. It should have been her. She’d seen the way her father sized them up, the two of them, when he got back from jail.
“Pretty little things,” he’d said, his eyes taking way too long over both of them, their long legs sprawled on the couch. They were twelve years old.
She’d known what he wanted.
Mish told him that Leo’s mom worked late nights, that Leo was always alone. But she hadn’t known what would happen after she told him, did she? Not really. She just hinted. She just let him look elsewhere. So that she wouldn’t have to find him in her bed.
Now he was clawing at her ankle, and he was strong enough to pull her down. She screamed. Arnold ran back with a glass of water and he yelled when he saw her father alive and clawing at her, and they all three saw it at the same time.
The gun.
The gun he’d shot Leo with, it was still there, on the floor, not too far from his right hand.
She had to get the gun before he did.
Get the gun.
But no, her father was there first. He was so fast for a dead guy. He grabbed it and cocked it and pointed it right at her.
“It should have been you!” he raged.
He was insane. He was crazy. He had killed Leo and now he was going to kill her too. She was going to die and she’d never even left this stupid neighborhood.
“No!” she screamed and she wondered why no one else was here, why the whole neighborhood was silent. It was like they were the only people on the planet.
Her father had his gun and it was aimed at her.
She was going to die.
Everything slowed down. For the rest of her life, she would remember it like an operatic ballet. Movies had it right sometimes; sometimes your life narrowed down to those few seconds.
The gun was in her face.
Then it wasn’t.
Somehow, Arnold slapped it away; he slapped her father’s hand away, and Mish caught the gun.
She had it in her hand now. It was still warm, and so heavy. It had killed her best friend already.
She had the gun in hand, and without thinking, without hesitation, she shot her father straight through the temple.
Now he was dead.
Soon, there were lights flashing on the window, but it wasn’t an ambulance. It was a BMW. It was Brooks.