Page 106 of Roses Are Dead
The word, ‘murderers’ was underlined. Twice.
“Carl,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Has he always been fucking suicidal?”
I glanced up at Bear. “What?” The last thing Carl wanted was to die. Nope, he wanted to live forever just to rub everyone’s noses in shit.
“Breaking into my house? That ain’t gonna fly.”
Nothing but my altar was out of place. “He didn’t touch anything of yours.”
Bear pointed at his floor. “No?”
It would wash off. Hopefully.
“I’ll clean it up.”
“No.” The ringing of his phone stopped him from saying anything else, and his upheld finger told me it was someone from his club. I sat on the floor silently waiting for the one-sided conversation to cease. But whoever was on the phone had a lot to say. Loudly.
Unfortunately, Bear had walked to the farthest side of the house to deal with the conversation. His low voice spoke in short bursts as the tirade went on.
He paced back to my side of the room. “Nothing else was touched.” Bear’s low grumble was audible. Then, “I know. I checked the house. Nothing.”
He rolled his shoulders, as if adjusting a heavy weight. “Listen, this is about my shit. I’ll take care of it.”
The call ended abruptly after that. Bear’s scowl spoke to how dire this situation was. I quickly moved everything I’d collected back to the table and grabbed the mop from the closet.
Within a minute or two all evidence of Carl’s intrusion was gone. Except for the crumpled bible page in Bear’s fist.
“I’ll throw that out.”
He snatched his hand away. “Nope. KC and I gotta take a ride.”
“You’re not going to go to Carl’s.”
My warning should have been clear, but obviously wasn’t. Bear was on the phone, calling his ‘brother’ and setting the wheels in motion to retaliate.
As soon as he ended that call, I spoke up. “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
Bear glared at me. “Ain’t going to kill him.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Yet.”
I’d heard that before. “You are going to let this slide. It isn’t your fight. He targeted my things.”
“In my house. And let me just read this part again, as for the murderers…” He put emphasis on the final word. “That ain’t about you.”
“Yes. It is.”
He froze. “I’m sorry, what?” He pretended to shake an ear out.
“You heard me. But I could argue that it would also extend to Carl, but he’d never admit to what he did so that’s what you call hypocrisy at its finest.”
“Who’d you kill?”
He fired it off so quickly it took me by surprise. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Who? You can’t drop a bombshell like that and think I’d ignore it.”
Bear was right. Somehow, I’d let my guard down around him and his friends. I’d foolishly thought I fit in. I didn’t. I was ten times worse than any of them. I bit my lips to keep from blurting out my sins. But now that the deed was admitted, they’d dig. Eventually, they’d uncover my sealed juvenile records. And perhaps the court notes from my counselor. And when that happened, this lie I was living would come to an abrupt halt. “I was—” Instead of starting there I shifted the timeline. “An elder of the church, a deacon, caught Carl and I climbing on the girders of the new church. It was still under construction. The deacon tried to force me to climb down. As he reached to grab me, I jumped to a rope, and he fell.”
