Page 68 of Dirty Little Secrets
And sometimes, when a crime is so egregious, the results are far beyond a realignment.
It’s not a rebalancing.
It’s revenge.
“Let me help!” I shout, unbuckling the seatbelt. The engine sputters, the helicopter vibrating violently as if it's being shaken by a giant karmic hand. “Let me?—”
“Sit down!” Father growls, glancing at my mother as she prays under her breath. “Mi amor?—”
“Dad!” Gabriela screams. “Daddy!”
The scent of fuel and burning oil fills the cabin. A sickening smell that triggers a primal instinct to flee, to get as far away from danger as possible. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“Jump!” I yell, glancing down at the Hudson River. “We need to jump!”
“We’ll die!” Gabriela weeps. “It’s too far?—”
“Jump!” I beg, my heart racing, breath quickening as utter helplessness swallows me whole. “Please!”
It was too far.
For everyone but me.
Guilt seeps through me as I stare at the names carved onto the tombstones. I step forward, the grass crunching beneath my feet. I kneel down before each grave.
Jonathan Cavanaugh
1973-2021
Sera-Sophia Cavanaugh
1973-2021
Gabriela Cavanaugh
1997-2021
I reach out and touch my mother's grave, the cold stone rough against my fingertips. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. Not anymore.
"I’m sorry,” I whisper, choking on the words. "I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you since…” My heart seizes. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. I’m?—”
A coward.
She sees that in me. She’s seen it all along. I thought time would hide this timid beast. I thought space would silence its weak thoughts. I thought that I could move on. Forget. But I can’t forget. And I can’t forgive. Not myself. Not the world. Nothing is in my control. The more I try to control, the more I push away. It’s a never-ending cycle.
My bruised knuckle clenches into a fist. She’s right. There is so much anger inside of me. It’s suffocating, violent, goddamn corruptive. I don’t want to taint her. I don’t want my past to envelop her present, her future.Ourfuture.
She can’t see it. She can’t see beyond the rage, beyond my actions, beyond her own roadblocks. Her darkness matches mine. Almost identical. It’s like luring fire with fire. Dangerous. Destructive. And damaging. That’s what I am to her. Damaged. And I am. She’s correct.
“…but I suppose the barriers that were standing in your way are no longer with us.”
My jaw ticks, tears threatening to once again spill over. Coward. He knows it too. Maybe everyone can see it. Sense it within me. Weak. So fucking weak. So?—
“Finally.” My body jerks, muscles tensing as Javier stops behind me. “Only took two years.” Clearing my throat, I subtly wipe my cheeks and stand up. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Why is your phone off?” He shoves a rolled-up newspaper into my chest when I don’t respond. “You made it on page six. Congratulations.” I refuse to hold it, and he doubles down, growling, “Open it, Damon. Open it and read it. Read what the world thinks of you right now.”
Begrudgingly, I flip open the newspaper, scowling as I read the headline again:CEO Unhinged: Damon Cavanaugh Sucker Punches Man of the Year at Charity Gala.
Another case of cause and effect. I’m haunted by my actions, in all aspects of my life.
