Page 86 of Under His Guard

The night sky is black. We’re into the second half of the summer now, and the sun is setting just a bit sooner than it was.

Pinprick dots of light sprinkle across the expanse, and the curves of the highway unfold before me as I get us back to the penthouse.

But I’m not really there. I’m not really driving.

I’m running. I’m sobbing.

I’m holding the body of a child in my arms, probably around ten, but who can really tell when they’re dirty and wearing their blood on the outside.

Bile crawls up my throat, burning my esophagus.

I did it. I killed him. Mistook him for a threat and squeezed that damn trigger too fast to see he was just…

A kid.

Somehow, I get Clara and myself home. It’s already late by the time we’re inside the penthouse.

She had a long shift today.

We don’t talk much once we’re in the dwelling. I don’t mind. At least not tonight.

I don’t want to chat tonight, and I can see she doesn’t, either.

“I, um, I just want to go to bed. Is that all right?”

Clara’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in a bit.”

She just nods, and then I watch Clara walk down the hall to the master bedroom.

We’ve been sleeping in the same bed. We’ve been…close.

You’re a damn murderer. You don’t deserve her.

The thought socks me in the chest as hard as a wrecking ball. I actually gasp a little.

“Okay, breathe, asshole. Just…Fuck.”

I stalk over to the fridge, opening it wide to see what I have available.

It’s been a minute since I went shopping, but I still have a few beers left, so I decide to start there and see if I’ll level out.

You can’t level anything. She’s going to see all this. She’s going to know what a fucking mess you are.

They’re not new words, but sometimes novelty isn’t what makes an intrusive thought destructive.

She’s going to leave.

It’s just that it’s there.

I notice at once that my heart is racing. My pulse is doing that thing where you can actually feel it instead of the blissful ignorance we have of our bodily functions most of the time.

My breathing is pretty damn shaky, too.

“You’re having a panic attack. Just…yeah.”

Being aware of something doesn’t make it magically go away, so I start pacing.

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