Page 18 of Unorthodox
Glancing at my bloody suit, I squat down, wipe my gun clean on Ben’s shirt. Then I stand up, stow my weapon, and turn to look at Addison.
She’s still on her knees, and maybe I just didn’t hear her because the gunshot was so loud that close to my face, but I don’t think she even screamed.
Her big green eyes are on me, her face ashen, mouth open.
But she’s still kneeling, her hands on her thighs. Even after I shot a man’s head off, right in front of her face.
Amazing.
Pieces of Benlanded on me.
I don’t notice it until Max comes to stand in front of me—also covered in what used to be Ben—and says, “We’re going to shower.”
I glance down at my once-white tank top and notice it’s…decorated with red. Thick globs of something that I’d rather not look too closely at.
I suddenly feel very cold.
Turning my gaze back to Max, to his steel and blue eyes, a small part of my brain tells me I should look at the floor.
But another, bigger part tells me Max just shot Ben’s entire head off.
I just watched someone die.
Despite all of the horrors I endured at my home for the past eighteen years, I had somehow escaped seeing that.
Abuse? Assault? Mind games? I’d experienced all of it to varying degrees. I had the torture of feeling the pain of living prolonged. But to see it end…
My mind feels very dull. Everything is…slow.
Max snaps his fingers, getting my attention, even though I’m staring right at him. I wasn’t really seeing him. But at his snapping, I flinch.
Then I see Ben’s head explode in my mind.
Over and over, on a loop.
My lips start to tremble. My ears are still ringing. I see the gun on Max’s hip. He drops his hand, and I’m still staring at his gun, but I can’t think.
Can’t breathe
I can’t breathe.
I reach for the collar around my neck, a high-pitched keening sound coming from my mouth, but I barely recognize thatI’mmaking it. I scratch at the collar, standing to my feet, backing up until I hit the wall opposite what used to be…Ben.
I can’t get the collar off.
I spin it around, feeling for the loop with my fingers but my hands are shaking, and my stomach convulses.
I’m freezing cold, but a sweat is breaking out on my neck and—
“Addison.”
I keep pulling at the collar, knees trembling until I can’t hold myself up anymore. I sink to the floor, hear footsteps approaching me and I throw my arms over my head, dropping the collar, tears springing behind my eyes.
“Addison.”
A sob tears through my throat, raw and guttural, and it doesn’t sound like me. It doesn’t sound like me, but it can’t be anyone else.
Ben’s head…his fucking head…
