Page 52 of Best Man on Campus

“She had a shotgun in her hand and a wild look on her young face. She couldn’t have been too much older than me. She was small and fierce. I was frozen with fear. And confused when Killian smiled at her. A ball of dread sank in my gut like a rancid dead animal.

“Uncle Kill said to her, ‘Sarah, honey, it’s not—’ and the girl said, ‘Yes it is, Kill.’ She flicked a look at me and said ‘She’s your niece, isn’t she. The one you’ve been talking about. And you did it. You took her. Ruined her—’

“I shrieked at her, ‘No.’ My head felt like it would explode and my body was shaking with fear. I had no idea what she was going to do, but she had that shotgun. She gazed at me, empty sad eyes, and ripped the blanket from me and she blanched. I don’t know why—

“Jazzy,” he squeezes me and I push against him. “Did he—”

“He loved me,” I shout the words. “That bitch turned to Uncle Kill then and I could see the murder in her eyes. So could he. He threw up his hands and said, ‘Now wait—’ but he didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence.’ Those were the last fucking words he said.”

I almost break down, but Ben kisses my temple and murmurs to me that he has me and I feel his arms and know I need to finish telling him my story. Get the last horrifying poisonous memory out of me.

“Sarah pulled the trigger and the loudest sound I ever heard blasted, vibrating off the walls of the small room. I turned to see that she blew a hole through Killian’s chest. My Uncle Killian’s heart flew to pieces, spattering blood all over me and I screamed so loud it hurt. He stood there for a moment, held up by the momentum of the blast, a shocked look on his face, blood splattered all over it, all over him. Then he collapsed to the floor.

“Sarah dropped the shot gun and ran out the door without a backward glance. I kept screaming bloody murder long and hard until I ran out of breath, tears and snot streaming, lungs burning, the picture of Killian standing there bloody and dead seared into the back of my eyelids. Until I came to my senses and a new reality hit me harder than the blood spatter.”

“My God, Jazzy.” Ben squeezes me and pulls me down on the bed with him, holding me and kissing my temple and I feel the tears, but they’re not mine. My face is dry. The tears are his. But I’m not finished, so I keep talking in a stronger voice, as if I’ve taken all his strength and courage for my own.

“I called the police, told them what happened. Told them he was my uncle, when they said he deserved to be killed I told them he was my special angel. That’s what I told the police. He was the only person in the world I had left who gave a fuck about me. They never cared about finding his murderer. No one cared about me but Killian.” That’s what I believed. What a big part of me still believes.

“Jazzy—” I put up a hand. I can’t let the unicorn interrupt my story, can’t let him sully it with his comfort.

“The police got me cleaned up and took me into the station, called in a woman from DSS. They finally let me go, but not home. I had no more home. But then I don’t remember ever feeling at home, or what home is supposed to feel like. I know it now because I spent time with Majiski, got a taste of home there. But only a taste.

“The police woman and the lady from DSS took me back to Uncle Killian’s house which was closed off with the yellow police tape, said I could pack my things, but they wouldn’t let me stay. I begged them. The social worker from DSS took me to a temporary emergency foster home and the worst nightmare of my youth was now my reality. I’d become one of those pathetic kids I used to feel sorry for.

“Everyone asked me who my father was, if Killian was his brother. I don’t know. All I know is that Killian O’Leary was my uncle, a man who came around to my grams, who treated me like a princess all my life.

“I asked the social worker and they said they’d try and find my father. They weren’t going to bother with my mother because she’d already lost me.

“But the most important question to me was who was the bitch that killed him? And why did she do it? Sarah. That’s all I could tell them about her. The room was too dark for much of a description except that she looked young and had long brown hair. I couldn’t even tell what color her eyes were. She was scrawny but big enough to handle a shotgun. They got her fingerprints. I thought they would catch her. How far could she have gotten, right? So that’s still the question that burns my soul. Who is the crazy bitch that murdered my Killian and why?” And where the fuck is she so I can extract my revenge. I don’t share that with Ben, but he lifts himself onto one elbow and studies me. Probably sees right into my soul.

“I’m so sorry, Jazzy, for all you had to go through. You have to be the bravest, toughest woman I ever met, that I ever heard of.”

I snort a laugh. “You don’t get around much then.” He smiles at me and kisses my lips, a soft, warm kiss speaking of adoration and sorrow.

“The police never found the crazy chick who killed him?”

“No. They never tried if you ask me. And I need to know. I’ll find out. The police have given up, but I haven’t.”

“Does it matter now?” He caresses my face, forcing me to look straight in his eyes.

“You bet your fucking ass it does. He was the only one who cared.”

I see the anger on his face. Predictable. Same kind of look Majik had the one and only time we talked about the incident. The only other person besides the officials and my therapist, Dr. Dani, who know the story.

“Jazzy,” His voice is soft and he brushes hair from my face. “Why did Sarah kill him? What was he doing in your room?”

“She’s a crazy bitch. How do I know what her problem is?” I pull away from him, but he holds me.

“What was he doing in your room?” He repeats, confusing the fuck out of me. My body tenses and a pain shoots through my gut and I fight not to double over.

“I told you, dammit. He came to kiss me good night. You don’t know how he treated me, how much he loved me.” Tears are streaming now because maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know any more.

I shove Ben away from me, because shit, that’s what I do, isn’t it? Why take a chance of him coming to his senses and pushing me away first? Of course the strong fucker doesn’t let me go. He’s a tough one and I don’t know if I hate him or need him or both. Hate him because I need him. I let him hold on to me and stop digging into his arm with my nails.

“Shit, Jazzy, take it easy.”

“Do you want to know the rest of the story or not?” I yell, swiping at the tears on my face, hating that I’m crying, until he takes my hand and stills it . Then he kisses my tears and I laugh.