by W Winters
And I could never take that back.
Chapter 30
Dean
* * *
There’s an expression about seeing red.
They say when you’re consumed with rage, you see red. Your sense of awareness is skewed. Your thoughts aren’t logical. Your decisions aren’t sane.
You’re seeing red.
I’ve been angry before. I’ve let it get the best of me rather than accepting the pain that was always there.
But I never knew the true meaning of seeing red until I heard Allie scream.
I could hear her behind the door.
I thought I heard from the sidewalk. A scream that made the hairs on my arm stand on end. A scream the neighbor heard, and I caught her looking toward Allie’s door with concern.
My heartbeat picked up and it was already pounding in my chest.
Every step I took before I heard her, I thought about the text I sent her. I was fixating on it.
I almost didn’t send it. I almost acted like a coward and let her leave me.
If Daniel hadn’t convinced me to get my sorry ass out of the bar, I might not be here now.
You need to stop pushing me away, I texted her. I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you’ve got to stop this shit. I’m coming over.
She didn’t reply. And I didn’t expect her to, but I was still coming to get her.
I was thinking about what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. It felt like it was my last chance. The Hail Mary of getting her back, but also keeping her. And then I heard her.
My boots slapped on her porch as I picked up my pace.
My fists slammed on the door as I called out her name.
But I could barely hear them over the sound of the chaotic pounding in my chest, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.
The sound of her screaming out again. With fear.
My shoulder crashed into the door without thinking twice. The pain rippled up my neck and down my back.
“Allie!” I screamed her name as the wood cracked and I shoved myself into the room. She was right there, but so far away.
The sight will be burned into my memory forever.
The scratch on Kevin’s arm, deep and bright in color, the redness in Allie’s skin and clear fear written on her face, cheeks tear-stained and her voice raw and hoarse as she screamed again. How he was hovering over her, shoving her down even as he looked up at me.
Red.
It’s all red.
I don’t know how my body moved, but it did. I don’t think I breathed until I picked up the lamp.
I remember him getting up, and I could see him thinking about how to play it off. I could see the look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t actually hurting her. Like I’d just caught him playing around.
The lamp was so light in my grasp. Like it was nothing as I whacked it over his head. My body was tight and screaming. But it took no energy at all. No thought. His head was the part of him closest to me as he rose. The easiest to strike.
The sound is something I don’t think I’ll ever forget either. The crack of the lamp, the crunch of his bones.
The blow was solid. Even though his wrist blocked the first, the next bash of the lamp struck him right where I aimed. The cord swung around, whipping him in the face and then back to my arm. I aimed again as he yelled at me to stop.
And I know I aimed. I can remember that.
Again, and again, my arm lifted and slammed the lamp down. My throat burned with a scream I couldn’t hear. I pushed my muscles harder and harder, feeling like I was on fire.
I just wanted her to stop screaming. I wanted all this to go away. To be a nightmare and nothing more.
For a moment, I questioned myself. As if my sudden lapse of sanity was over. As if I wasn’t angry, and I was wondering what I was doing.
But the moment was quickly forgotten when I heard Allie scream again.
And that’s when the hammering of the base of the lamp turned to a slash from the broken ceramic.
It’s all a haze of red.
Like I wasn’t seeing things clearly. Like it wasn’t real.
It stayed that way as the blood spilled from his neck where a shard of the glass pierced his skin. It covered his shoulder and poured onto my leg and onto the sofa. I’ve never seen anything like it. And maybe the surprise of it is what stopped me. I can’t be sure.
His eyes stare through me. With every breath, I wait for him to blink but he doesn’t. I can imagine him reaching up to stop the steady flow of blood, but his body is still.
I can hardly hear Allie, but I know her screams have stopped and she’s saying something else now. Something laced with dread and guilt, but I can’t hear her over the ringing in my ears. I can hardly focus my vision on her. My body’s shaking and I can’t move. I’m frozen. It feels that way as I drop what’s left of the lamp to the floor. It thuds, that’s clear to me. But Allie’s words are mixed with the memory of her scream.
I can barely feel her tugging on me as I stare at her ripped pajamas, hanging from her chest.
It all stays red until the scream from behind me forces me to realize there’s someone here. Someone other than Allie, someone who came in behind me. Allie’s weeping on the ground, her hands covered in blood as she crouches on the ground and then looks up at me with fear and sorrow swirling in her eyes and it takes another scream before I turn around to face the front door and see who’s screaming.
Someone who would bear witness to what I’d done.
Someone who heard the screaming and came in through the front door.
Someone who saw Kevin’s dead body at my feet.
Allie’s neighbor from earlier, is screaming in the doorway behind me.
Chapter 31
Allison
* * *
No. I take it back.
I take it all back.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Dean, stop!” I try to scream at him, but my voice is hoarse, the pain ripping my throat as I topple over. The blood won’t stop. I keep pushing against Kevin’s throat with my trembling hands as if I can make the bleeding stop. But it won’t.
And it’s too late.
I know it is, but I can’t stop trying to stop it.
I can hardly breathe, as my shaking hands move away from the limp body. He’s still warm but blood isn’t pumping from the wound anymore. It’s hardly a trickle.
“Are you okay?” I hear Dean over the sound of a shrill scream.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s trying to pick me up and move me, but I can’t move. I can’t be touched. I only catch a glimpse of a woman’s back from the doorway.
My heart races, my body chills.
“Dean,” I say his name as a breath. What did I do?
It happened so fast. Too fast to control. Too many moving parts to see what would come next.
I didn’t mean for this. I try to blink away the vision. The memory. As the feeling of Kevin pushing me down comes back to me, I shove against Dean’s chest. My body reacts.
“It’s me,” he protests as I wrap my arms around my shoulders and try to get away.
I’m numb and shaking.
“It’s me. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean keeps speaking lies.
It’s not okay.
It’s never been worse.
Kevin’s body is at an odd angle on the floor and as I try to back away, Dean’s boot hits Kevin’s leg. And it moves easily, lifeless.
I didn’t mean for him to die.
It’s all I can think. I swear. I wanted the world to know.
I wanted him to pay for what he did to Sam.
But I never intended this.
“I’m sorry,” the words whisper from my lips and Dean stiffens beside me. It’s the first time I really look up at him.
His hair’s disheveled and his eyes are narrowed and deadly. I should be scared of him, but all I can do is cling to his side.
“You didn’t do any
thing.” He barely speaks the words and it comes out as more of a question. His t-shirt seems to tighten around his broad shoulders, the cotton stretching as he takes a heavy breath.
But did I? The pain and regret all mix with everything else. It’s a whirlwind of chaos.
And right there beside us is the undeniable and crushing truth that I’ve brought Dean into this. I led him here. The one person who made me question it.
My heart stutters in my chest, refusing to believe and not wanting to admit any of this. I just want to go back to that night in the hotel room and tell him everything. I want to beg for his forgiveness. To let him walk away and save him.
It’s too late.
“What have I done?”
“You were fighting him,” Dean says and struggles to control his breathing. I can feel his eyes piercing into me, but I can’t look him in the eyes.
I nod my head.
“He was hurting you.” His words crack.
I finally look up at him with tears welling in my eyes. The pain has apparently won. Of all things, pain is the most damaging. “He was trying…” The words are slow, achingly slow and the worst word of all stays trapped in the back of my throat.
I’m going to be sick.
My stomach churns and I try to stand but my head’s foggy and I slip backward, almost touching the dead body.
With the image of him pushing me down, I kick against his leg. I try to get away and Dean’s there, holding me, pulling me away from the nonexistent threat.
“I’m here,” he whispers and holds me as the sound of a faint siren sneaks in through the broken front door. “It’s okay.”
“Dean, it’s not okay.” I look into his eyes as I speak and I’m so wounded.
What have I done? Please, I just want to take it back.
My heart pounds in my chest. The fear is crippling.
“No.” The word bubbles from my lips repeatedly as the reality hits me.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dean keeps saying. As if anything could be okay.
“You don’t understand,” I plead with him to listen, but my throat is scratchy, and I hiccup over my words. “I’m so sorry,” I whimper, covering my face as the tears pour from me.
“Stop saying you’re sorry!” Dean yells as he grips my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His strong hands pin me where he wants me with a force that almost makes me collapse. If I did, I’d collapse into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, and his voice is full of sympathy, but so much more too.
“You don’t understand,” I breathe, the words full of agony as I remember Samantha’s broad smile. She was so beautiful. So full of life and happiness. It’s a smile that will only live in my memory. I’ve let everyone down. Everyone I ever loved. Sam. Dean.
“Did you want him?” Dean questions with hate, with denial, with jealousy in his eyes and I shake my head furiously.
“Never,” I tell him quickly. “I didn’t. I swear.”
“Then stop it!” he commands me. He doesn’t understand.
“I knew he would,” I confess, the words coming out strained. “When I let him in--” It’s only a part of a confession and it’s cut off by Dean’s fingers digging into my arms as he shakes me slightly.
My cheeks feel hot as the tears stain them.
“He’s responsible for what he did, Allie,” Dean tells me, his eyes piercing into my own. “I won’t have you say any differently.”
“I asked for this,” I admit weakly, full of shame.
“What did you ask for?” He barely gets the words out as his voice shakes with pain. He shakes his head as he croaks, “You didn’t ask for this.” He’s so full of denial as the police park in front of the house. I can hear them. There’s more than one cop car and the sound of multiple doors shutting is mixed with him whispering that this isn’t my fault and that I’m okay.
But it is.
I asked for this. For vengeance. For justice.
I didn’t just ask for it. I fucking prayed for it.
Dean didn’t though. And knowing that, I hate myself even more.
Chapter 32
Dean
* * *
My stomach feels hollow.
My body is freezing.
The fucking jail cell is cold, so at least that part makes sense.
The doctor who came in said it was shock. Maybe that’s what happens when you kill a man. Or when you see someone you love screaming in pain.
A cell opens and closes, and I barely lift my eyes at the eerie sound of finality.
I killed him.
In cold blood.
This isn’t a bar fight I can get out of.
Charges have been pressed and they booked me within hours.
Third-degree murder.
I told them everything. Every bit of what I had. There’s no way to get out of this.
I’m fucked.
I run my hand down my face and try to stop seeing him. Any time the sight of him dead on the floor flashes in my head, it’s followed by him on top of Allie. It’s like a sick joke my mind’s playing on me. Twisting and coiling the darkness inside my head until it strikes me down over and over again.
“Allie,” I whisper under my breath and let my head fall. The door opens at the end of the row of cells and I repeat to myself, “It was to protect her.”
I’m already starting to question it. Just like the cops did. Asking me what I thought of him. If we’d had physical encounters before. How my anger management sessions were going. Whether I tried to pull him away or if I just went in to kill him.
I didn’t have to keep going, but I swear I couldn’t stop myself.
There were so many questions, I can’t even keep my own answers straight.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.” I lift my eyes at the guard’s voice and see Uncle Rob standing outside of the bars.
They slide open and he walks through, looking like the ghost of the man I once knew. His hair’s silver and the heavy bags under his eyes are either from years of booze or weeks of no sleep.
“Dean,” he says my name and my eyes drop to his button-up trucking shirt down to his jeans, to his boots, to the cement floor of the cell. I can’t look him in the eyes.
The cell door shuts with a loud clink and I hear him walk over to the cold bench to sit beside me.
He doesn’t speak as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Your lawyer’s coming,” he tells me with a tone of comfort and safety like a lawyer can get me out of this. I guess I should have asked for one before saying a word. But what’s the point?
“I did it,” I tell him in a tight voice and tilt my head to reach his eyes. “I killed him.” The last sentence comes out strong. I can at least own it. “He was trying to--”
Uncle Rob cuts me off, placing a hand on my shoulder and leaning in closer. “I know what happened. They gave me the report. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a lawyer.”
His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed as he stares at me, begging me to hear him out.
“I don’t see the point. I told them what happened. They know he tried to rape her.” My voice goes tight. “I only did it to save her.”
“It’s Jack’s son. He’s friends with the judge. You need a lawyer.” His voice is hard but also panicked.
I huff out a breath of disbelief at my uncle’s words. “I already know that.”
“Listen to me for once in your fucking life, Dean,” my uncle shouts at me with exasperation. “He doesn’t want his name smeared.”
“Smeared?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“You don’t know how they’ll spin it,” my uncle says sharply and that gets my attention.
“Spin it?”
“Jack said she set him up.”
“She what?” My vision spins.
“That she liked it that way and wanted to make you jealous.”
“You believe him?” I stand up abruptly, moving away from my un
cle and looking at him with disgust.
“No!” he yells out and taps his foot nervously on the cement floor. “They’re going to try to spin it. They’re saying she wanted him, that she led him on and that you caught them in the act.”
“But she’s a witness, she can testify. Shit, a neighbor heard her screaming!” My voice bellows in the cell, ricocheting my anger off the hard, unforgiving walls.
“Well, there’s some damning evidence, Dean. You need to hear it. You need to be prepared for it.
“Hear what?”
“Your anger, your arrests. Pictures of the two of you and testimonies of her being more than friendly with some of your friends.” My heart slows with each word.
“None of that has anything to do with this.”
“Maybe not to you, but your opinion doesn’t matter. If they think she’s lying, her testimony doesn’t matter.”
“It’s the truth!”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says in a flat voice.
“She didn’t want him to rape her.”
“You have to prove it was rape.”
“Her word isn’t enough?” I spit back at him with even more contempt.
“Not when she’s made her intentions questionable. The DA has to decide--”
“Get out!” I seethe. “I don’t need you or your lawyer.” My voice comes out even and confident, and I have no fucking clue how. I’m trembling with anger and sickness.
“I’m not leaving you,” he tells me with a shaky voice. “You needed me back then, and I failed you. I won’t fail you now. If you don’t want me here, that’s fine. I’ll respect that, but I’m getting you a lawyer for the arraignment.”
Chapter 33
Allison
* * *
I’ve been waiting for one phone call.
The one where a stranger on the end of the line will tell me I can go see him. They told me I needed to leave. That I needed to wait and stop calling them. So, I’m trying.
