by Nick Twist
“Not before our last guests arrive.”
120
Until our next guests arrive, I leave June with Irene and Jack and climb up the stairs to my private bathroom. Inside I look in the mirror and massage my forehead. I take a deep breath then open a drawer with a secret key. Looking at the substances inside, I feel a bit guilty.
Just like every time.
I set things up and snort a line of coke.
Surprised?
I’ve tried to stop for years, but couldn’t. It’s this or I go crazy. June needs me. It’s my dirty little secret. My vice. My PTSD boogeyman. Maybe I can stop one day. I’m only using a little now. Not abusing. It’s not an excuse. It’s real life. A professional doctor supervises me.
I wish I could tell a better story. A hundred percent clean sheet and new start. A miracle of unchained proportions. A happily ever after with no stains from the past.
But I’d be lying.
It’s possible to rise back from the ashes against all the odds in the world, but not without some burns and scars here and there. Those burns make us who we are.
How else can I forget killing Manfred Toot and his son, Hecker. Not in my made-up story that kept me alive and awake, but in real life, twenty years ago.
I hadn’t looked into the eyes of darkness for three years to only escape in the end. I had to avenge Ashlyn. And boy, I did it. With a mirror’s shard across Manfred’s face before I shot Hecker in the balls with his father’s silver gun. I’d killed Dr. Suffolk, who’d kept their secret and participated occasionally, earlier that day. I sedated him and injected him with cocaine until he overdosed.
Then I pushed the semi-blinded Manfred into the Furnace in the back of my mother’s garage.
It wasn’t Major Red who’d burned the town to the ground. It was me. The perfect crime. The perfect justice.
In fact, I burned them all in the Furnace. Three years of torture were long enough to study their ticks and weaknesses. They were busy raping me and the girls. I was busy killing them.
The doorbell rings again. I wipe under my nose. A smile forms on my face.
121
Climbing down, Irene is wide-eyed, staring at me. “When did this happen?” She points at my guests.
June and Jack welcome them.
Irene is still smiling, so much that tears trickle down her face. I pat her then go to meet my guests.
James Madison Floyd is tall enough not to be missed. He stands behind a wheelchair where August sits. She had awoken a few weeks ago, arguably after Floyd read to her every day for six years. I’ve never seen someone as happy as him today.
I kneel down in front of her and kiss her hand. Her speech hasn’t been good. She hands me a paper with a few words: June & August.
I hold back the tears and give way to June. August reaches out to hug her. June never met her before, but for some reason she broadly smiles and buries herself in August’s arms.
Later that night, we gather around the dining table, eating. There is nothing better than the good company of friends. It has taken me years to find them. A few, not many are all I need, preferably with something in common. Be it catastrophe or hope. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the helping hand that pats the wound, not necessarily heals it. The sweet mouths that entertain with a story, not necessarily true. All the things that keep me going forward and never looking back.
We’re laughing at the table.
When I look at Jack, Irene, Floyd, & August, I realize that each of us has their own version of Toot, the bogeyman in the closet, the demon from the past. We beat him, one way or the other. It doesn’t mean he is not coming back, but hey, next time we’ll be even stronger.
THE END
Read on for a preview for Thirteen Years of Snow, my upcoming next psychological thriller.
Afterword
A big, heartfelt thank you for choosing to read my book.
Joan Murray, Juliane Koepcke, Vesna Vulovic, & Poon Lim are real people. Some dates and events have been altered to fit the storyline. Their stories come across as unbelievable, but they’re a hundred percent true, and tremendously admired and inspiring.
If you enjoyed The Last Girl, please take a moment to leave me a four or five-star review; I would be very grateful. It doesn’t need to be more than a couple of words, and it makes a huge difference.
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About the Author
My name is Nick Twist. I’m an ordinary guy next door who loves to write. I have written a few fantasy bestsellers under the name Cameron Jace. I have an insatiable interest in the origins of folktales and urban legends, not as fantasy but as real life facts. Then when I’ve recently became interested in psychology, I’ve realized what my real interest is: childhood. Be it a thriller or a fantasy, usually based on real facts, I want to visit my protagonist’s childhood or adolescence and see how much it shaped the adult they have become.
The Last Girl is my first attempt into writing thrillers. I hope I did well and that you enjoyed it. Brook Ward is a dear character to me. You and I may not have not met in real life but hey we met in the pages of this book.
If you’d like to write to me, please use the following email:
[email protected]
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Thirteen Years of Snow
Nick’s next thriller is
Thirteen Years of Snow.
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