The entire subway ride back home, I can’t stop shaking.
Everybody on the subway must think I am a crazy person, because even though it’s crowded, nobody has sat down on either side of me by the time I get back to the Bronx. I basically spend the entire ride hugging myself and rocking back and forth.
I can’t believe I killed him. I didn’t mean to.
No, that’s not fair. I shot the man in the chest. It would be a lie to say that I didn’t want him dead. But this was the last way I wanted things to unfold when I saw that gun in the dictionary.
But it’s going to be okay. I’ve been through this before. Wendy will stick to her story, and the police won’t have any idea that I was involved.
Now I just have to deal with the fact that I killed a man. Again.
The second I get out of the subway station, my phone buzzes. A missed call. I pull it out of my purse, half expecting it to be Wendy, but instead, the screen is filled with missed calls and voicemails from Brock.
Oh no. We were supposed to have dinner tonight. This was supposed to be the night we were going to have the big talk. Well, that isn’t going to happen anymore.
I stare down at Brock’s name on my phone for a moment, knowing that I have to call him, but not wanting to do it. Finally, I click on his name. He answers almost instantly.
“Millie?” He sounds some combination of angry and concerned. “Where are you?”
“I…” I wish I had taken a moment to think of a valid excuse before calling him. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh really?” He sounds skeptical. “What’s wrong, exactly?”
“I… I have a stomach bug.” When he doesn’t say anything, I decide to embellish a few more details. “It came on suddenly. I feel awful. I just keep, you know, throwing up. And also… well, it’s coming out of both ends. I think I need to stay in tonight.”
I brace myself for him to call me on my phony story, but instead, his voice softens. “You don’t sound good.”
“Yeah…”
“I could come by,” he offers. “I could bring you some chicken soup?
Rub your back?”
I have the sweetest boyfriend ever. He is just such a good guy. And as soon as this blows over, I am going to absolutely make it up to him. I really do love him. I think.
“No, but thank you,” I breathe into the phone. “I just need to be alone and recover. Rain check?”
“Sure,” he says. “Just get better.”
When I hang up the phone, I feel guilty now for how I’m treating Brock on top of everything else. But I don’t want to drag him into this mess. The only person I could talk to about this is Enzo, and that’s a bad idea for so many reasons. I need to just go home and try not to think about any of it. Soon, this will all be behind me.
