Page 104 of Brutal Knight

"Show me."

“You serious?" He puffed, showing off his missing tooth.

"As a heart attack."

When I didn't crack a smile, he grabbed the bag, and pulled out two unregistered guns, showing me where the serial numbers had been filed off. "You satisfied?"

"Like a rich man on skid row," I said, taking the bag in one hand and my whiskey in another, the glass door slamming behind me as I left.

Rook's face peered at me nervously as I got into the car, his eyes immediately latching onto the two brown bags. He looked away quickly.

I tucked the bag with the guns under my seat, then pulled out the whiskey. "It's okay. You can look."

He eyed it warily. "They let you buy that in there?"

"Of course," I scoffed, then twisted the lid open. I offered him the first sip. "Want some?"

He stared at it for a moment. "You first."

I shrugged. "Just trying to be nice." I took a gulp, then promptly spit it out, spraying it all over his face. God, my throat burned.

"Sorry." I yanked out of my t-shirt, chuckling at the way Rook's mouth had dropped open in surprise.

He grabbed the shirt from my outstretched hand. "Idiot," he grinned, wiping his face, "but it's okay."

Fuck, I didn't deserve a friend like him.

I passed the bottle over to him. "Here, drink some."

He hesitatingly took it, palming it nervously.

I knew he wasn't afraid to drink liquor: his mother had put it in his bottle to get him to calm down when he was a baby. I didn't know why he was hesitating now.

"I don't know," he held it to his chest. "I told Nana I wouldn't drink anymore."

Not only had his mother been an addict but she was also a drunk.

"It's okay, just this one time." He was going to need it. I grabbed the bottle and pressed it to his mouth. "Your nana won't find out."

His lips parted and I tilted it until he'd had a generous sip. I was so goddamn awful, practically pouring it down his throat like this.

We passed it back and forth until my worries slowly ebbed out. It was done, and there was nothing I could do about it now.

Rook began to talk again, obsessed with his new chess move, and I tuned him out, encouraging him to drink with me.

By the time we pulled up to the house, he was loose and confident again, swaggering as he walked up to the front door.

I stepped out, stopping to stare at him, my anxiety suddenly slamming back into me with full force.

I didn't want to go up there, I didn't want to go up there, I didn't want to go.

It took me a few moments of fighting with myself.

I could walk away now, and I would never have to face the terrible truth of what I'd done.

Rook paused in the doorway, turning to look at me, a goofy grin on his face. “You coming?"

I couldn't be a coward. Not now, when he would need me the most.

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