Page 147 of Crave
The whispers were relentless now, rising like a storm inside my head, a thousand voices speaking over each other, layering, twisting, growing louder.
You killed them, Angel.
Your brothers will never forgive you for this.
You didn’t just let them die, did you?
It was your hand around the gun.
Your finger on the trigger.
Your name your parents screamed.
You.
You.
YOU.
.
.
.
Run.
My bare feet slammed against the floor, the hallway stretching before me like an endless voice. The walls blurred, my vision tunneling, the edges of the world twisting.
I wasn’t in the house anymore.
I was there that night.
The smell of blood, wood smoke, and gunpowder choked me. My hands were slick, wet, my fingers twitching around the phantom weight of a gun.
Steady now, little doll. You know what to do.
NO.
I clawed at my head, gasping as the pressure built, as the voices slammed into me from all sides.
Pull the trigger, Angel.
They don’t need to suffer. Just do it. Just finish it. Get what we want and we’ll end this for good.
My blows were useless, still I slammed my knuckles against my head over and over…and over again.
What did your father whisper to you before he died?
An animal sound escaped my lips
Before you looked him in the eyes and pulled the trigger. What was it Angelica? Did he tell you he loved you? Or was it hate?
I sobbed, the sound ripped from my throat like an open wound, but my body kept running, slamming through the rear door and out into the first rays of the morning light.
I had to get away.
Get away from it.
