Page 83 of Hack
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Carter stared out over the huge backyard as the sun started to rise in the east. He had his hands around a large cup of coffee, trying to feel normal again, but it wasn't happening. He was lost. It was the strangest feeling. He was numb emotionally. Where yesterday when Archer found him, he'd been in so much pain he'd thought he was going to die, wanted to die, today, he was struggling to feel anything.
He tossed and turned for hours, but finally sleep had claimed him, but not for long. He'd only gotten a few hours before he was awake again, staring at the ceiling in a strange room, trying to piece together everything that had gone on the last few days. It was almost as if it all was a dream. He remembered it all, but it was like there was a buffer that kept him from feeling as if it really happened.
God, what had he done to Lyle? He'd never meant for it to be that way. He'd gone in planning to slowly torture the man. He wanted to play on fear and have the man slowly bleed to death as he suffered in pain. What he'd done was lose his mind and savagely stab the man until he looked like nothing more than a bloody slab of meat. Overkill much?
The fact he had that kind of violence in him scared him. He knew he could kill the man who took his daughter from him, but he hadn't thought he could do it that way. The thought of what he'd done still turned his stomach and made him want to vomit.
God, he'd fucked up. If Xander hadn't gone with him, he'd be dead or in jail right now. There was no way he could have gotten out of that house by himself. Not after what he'd done. He wasn't even sure he could have handled securing both adults on his own. He probably would have been killed by the woman while trying to take out Lyle. It was a mess, and someday, somehow, he'd pay Xander back for putting himself at risk the way he had.
How those guys put themselves in danger that way every night, he'd never understand.
He glanced back at the house, hearing Archer up. They hadn't talked at all since he'd given him the clothes and left him to shower. The truth was, he didn't know what to say. He was so messed up in his own mind that it was probably best he keep to himself anyway. It said a lot that somehow Archer seemed to know that and wasn't checking on him every few minutes.
He took a sip of his coffee, wondering what to do with himself. There was a part of him that wanted to go back to the cemetery, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't help him. He needed to get past their deaths, and somehow, if he could, move on with his life.
So much easier said than done
Everything felt wrong right now. He didn't want to go back to the team, didn't want to go back to spending hours behind a computer. He'd seen enough sin in his life and wasn't sure he could handle anymore. The nightmares he suffered from for years of kids being abused was enough to drive anyone crazy, but now, add in the memories of what he'd done to Lyle and he was one messed up motherfucker.
The thing was, what did he have without the team. He couldn't work for someone else. Couldn't handle a nine to five job. That wasn't him. He needed something happy. Hell, maybe he should apply for a job at Disneyland. Couldn't get happier than that, right?
He sighed, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned forward, looking out over Archer's yard. It was huge. There was a swimming pool off to his left, then the rest was just grass. Acres of well-manicured grass. He imagined the parties Archer's father must have thrown out here. He tried to picture a young Archer, dressed to perfection, trying to be everything his father wanted him to be.
"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I'm going to make a run to the store. Wanted to see if you needed anything before I go or if you wanted to go with me." Archer stood in the patio doorway, holding his own cup of coffee.
"Do you mind if I stay?" Carter asked. He didn't have the energy for shopping.
"Not at all. Anything you need or are craving?"
"Can you get some beer? Oh, and I could use a razor." He rubbed his hand over his chin. He hadn't shaved since the day he'd flown to North Carolina with Xander.
"Sure thing. Any certain food?"
Carter shook his head.
"Okay. I'll be back in an hour or so. Like I said, make yourself at home." Archer watched him for a second, then turned back inside.
Carter sighed. This had to be hell for Archer. They'd been so close. Their last day together had held so much possibility, but now, it seemed like all that was gone. He wasn't sure how to get it back. He still cared about Archer, but there was a part of him that didn't feel worthy of the feelings he was sure that Archer had for him. He'd killed a man in such a violent way that it had to make Archer hesitate. He might not have witnessed it happen, but he was sure that Xander let him know exactly how bad it had been.
He rolled his shoulders. He had so much to think about, so much to decide. Could he go back to doing what he had been? Did he want to?
Leaving his coffee to sit on the table, he got up and wandered out into the yard, walking aimlessly out to the center of the lawn. There, he turned and looked back at the house. Hell, it wasn't a house, it was a mansion. Not at all what he'd expected from Archer. He knew he had money, but he'd expected a small two-room home that was simple. He understood keeping the family home, though. It was almost too nice to let it go, even if it was empty most of the time.
No matter how he tried, he couldn't imagine Archer growing up here. It was everything he wasn't. Carter knew what it was like to have money. He had plenty of his own, but like Archer, he lived a simple life. The money was there when he needed it, but he didn't need to buy expensive things or flaunt his wealth.
Carter sat down on the grass. The sun was just high enough now to start warming his skin, and he arched back on his arms, his legs straight out in front of him. They were far enough away from anything big that it was nearly silent. A few birds chirped, and in the far distance he heard a siren, but that was it. It was nice. How long had it been since he'd just sat in silence and forgot about everything?
Not that he could forget. That would never happen. He'd seen too much. What he could do was push thoughts away for a while and just be. Closing his eyes, he eased back farther on the lawn, lying flat, his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankle. This was good. The silence was good. Being alone was perfect.
