Page 71 of Downfall

“You left. You left me. You don’t get to waltz back in and expect me to forgive you. To just expect everything to be as it was. Not after what you did. Not after what you said. You destroyed my life. You destroyed everything.”

She scoops her dog up into her arms. I take a step towards her and her nostrils flare.

“Fuck you Roman Montague.” She spits before turning on her heel. “Fuck you.”

Roman

Istare after her, watching as she storms away. What the fuck was that? She thinks Ibetrayedher? How could I possible have?

But that anger was real. That belief was real too.

I think back to that day. Six years ago. The day I killed Tybalt.

Ben and I had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. An error that escalated, that compounded itself, barraging through every aspect of my life.

Tybalt, aggressive arsehole that he was, saw his moment. Him and his mates.

We’d broken down coming back from a days’ hunting. Ben had been into classic cars, still is to some extent, so there we were sat beside his Series Land Rover, the engine steaming because it’d overheated.

Two sitting ducks.

And then Tybalt was there. Pulling over. In his ridiculously modified truck.

Ben had thought he was a Good Samaritan, that is until he saw exactly who it was.

Tybalt sauntered over, his mates already laughing behind him like jackals.

But Ben was too far ahead of me. He’d already half run up to greet them before he’d realised what this was.

Tybalt landed the first punch, knocking him off his feet and Ben slammed back head first into tarmac. I shouted out. Yelled. But I knew they weren’t going to stop. These were the Capulet boys. The entire fucking gang.

When they started beating on him I saw red. I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch. I wasn’t going to let Ben get killed. But I also knew I was outmatched five to one.

I didn’t think. In that moment I just didn’t think. I jumped into the car, grabbing the rifle. I could have let off a warning shot, I could have aimed for a less serious limb, but I didn’t.

I did it on purpose.

I took aim and pulled the trigger.

Firing right into his god damn skull.

Tybalt fell back. His mouth ajar. Blood already pouring from the wound. His mates froze, looking round and as they spotted me I let off another shot. It narrowly missed the one on the right and they scarpered. The four of them running back to the truck and away.

The moments after are hazy. I dragged Ben back to the Series. I hailed down a car, got him to our house and as the medics worked away to fix him, my father began working to try and undo the shit storm I’d created.

Only it was too late.

Far too fucking late.

Tybalt was dead.

And Ignatio Capulet was already at City Hall screaming for my head.

My father pulled every favour he had. Every last one. He got my sentence commuted. Life in exile instead of lethal injection. It was a fair trade considering. I was given twelve hours to be gone. Twelve hours to pack my life up and leave forever.

I called Rose. I called her over and over but she never picked up. I left messages. I told her exactly how she could get to me. Where to be.

And then Ben and I left. Him bandaged up and still half concussed. Me with every penny my father could get at such short notice.

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