Page 180 of Split You Open

But how the hell are we supposed to just stand here and do nothing?

As it is, Rhett is breathing heavily beside me as he trembles with pent-up frustration and anxiousness. Ledger keeps running his fingers through his hair and Wes can’t seem to decide if he wants his arms crossed over his chest or down at his sides.

How are we still watching bodies being removed.

Did an army storm my house?

“Okay, that was the last one,” Deputy Wilson says as he approaches. The middle-aged man pulls up his utility belt that’s sagged and spits his gum out onto my yard.

Ledger steps forward, his body tense. “How many fucking people were in there?”

“Eighteen men in total,” Deputy Wilson shakes his head. “Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. They were all dressed in tactical gear like this was some military operation.”

“Men?” Wes mutters behind me. “They were all men?”

I can hear his soft sigh of relief. It’s echoed by Rhett.

Blair wasn’t one of the causalities.

“Given that this is an active crime scene, I can only permit you, Mr. Navarro, to enter the house. I’ll walk through with you to make note of anything you notice that’s missing, but I’ll warn you now, it’s not a pretty sight in there.”

I’ve already given them my statement: that I was with the others back at Gnarly Pines and, no, I had no idea what went down here. All of it was the truth and yet… it feels like I’ve lied. Now that I’ve witnessed the carnage, I know exactly what happened here.

Blair happened.

Anchor happened.

And Dixie happened here.

I glance at the others who look ready to barrel down Deputy Wilson to get into the house. I know why it’s supposed to be just me but more than anything I want them all there with me.

“Mr. Navarro?” Deputy Wilson says with concern. “Are you ready?”

“Santi?” Rhett asks, his voice strained with stress.

No, I’m not ready.

Looking back at the cop, I nod. “Y-yeah.”

I follow Deputy Wilson into my family’s home. Behind me, I can feel the other’s eyes on my back. We don’t get far. I stop just inside the threshold—stunned at the sight before us.

I gasp in horror.

There are bullet holes in every wall. Most of my mother’s knickknacks are in pieces, strewn about the room as if this was a rage room not a house full of love. The grandfather clock on the far side of the room—that once belonged to my great-grandfather—lays broken and in pieces on the floor. Furniture is flipped over and glass is littered everywhere.

And the blood… There's just so much blood.

I don’t even recognize the room with all the destruction.

Deputy Wilson clears his throat before he offers, “We’ll have a clean-up crew come in and⁠—”

“I don’t care about any of it,” I blurt out, my words coming out sharper than I intend for them to be.

The knickknacks, the furniture—hell the entire house—were once my most prized possessions. All of this was a piece of my past still frozen in time. When I walked through the front door, it was like I could pretend both my parents were still here, just out running errands. I held onto this place because I was holding onto them.

But they’re dead and gone.

Blair, however, is still alive—hopefully—and she means more to me than any of this possibly could now.