Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,97

to let my mind wander. Prior to the dream, I hadn’t known much about torture. Even though it wasn’t real, I felt like it gave me an education on some of the possibilities. Now, I knew what it felt like to have a knife pointed at my throat, to be told I was going to die, to feel a level of pain I had never experienced before. The true meaning of fear, of constant worry, of hurt—I understood all of it now. But I was sure that whatever had been inflicted on Anthony was far worse than what Breath had done to me.

And I had a feeling it had started before Garin had arrived. I hadn’t heard from Anthony in two days. That was unlike my brother. He usually made some type of contact every day. I was sure that meant the bosses had captured Anthony, and Garin had finished him.

I wouldn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.

And I didn’t want to know what they had done to him.

Or where they were going to bury him.

Now that I had Garin back in my life and I truly knew what I had lost, what had been taken from me, I blamed Anthony for all of it. I wouldn’t miss my brother. And I didn’t want to ever visit his grave.

But the thought of more death, more torture, still hurt.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said, “and I didn’t find out some other way.”

I heard talking in the background. Then, there was movement, the rushing of cars, horns honking.

“They need me, Kyle. I’m going to call you back in a little while.”

“Okay.”

He said good-bye, and we both hung up.

I didn’t put the phone down. I lifted my forehead off my hand and stared at the dark screen.

Anthony was gone.

Dead.

I wasn’t sure what to say, what to think, how to even process it all. But I knew there was something I had to do, something I wasn’t looking forward to.

I swiped my finger across the screen and hit Mom in my contacts.

“Hi,” I said when she answered. “We need to talk. Can I come over?”

“I just sat down to watch my shows. Johnny’s here. I don’t feel like having company.”

I didn’t know who Johnny was. We didn’t talk about her friends or the men she dated, and I never met any of them. But his company was clearly more important than mine.

“It’s urgent, Mom.” I added the last word for emphasis because, when I spoke to her, I usually called her by her first name.

“Turn it down, will ya? And pause it, so I don’t miss nothing,” she said to Johnny.

I heard the TV quiet in the background.

“What do you wanna tell me, Kyle? Make it quick.”

“It’s really something I need to tell you in person.”

“Just spit it out already.”

If she didn’t want me to come over, I couldn’t force her. But I knew what this was going to do to her. She struggled with sobriety. She had relapsed more than once. Losing her son—her enabler, her source of income—was going to destroy her.

“Anthony’s dead.” Several seconds of silence passed. “Mom, did you hear what I said? Anthony’s dead. He’s gone. He’s—”

“I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like this.”

“Then, why haven’t I heard this from anyone else? Why didn’t one of the guys call me? Or one of his girls? Why hasn’t anyone from The Heart picked up the phone and told me my baby’s dead?”

“Maybe they don’t know yet.” It was the only thing I could think of without getting into details, ones I would never share with her. “I’m telling you the truth. I just heard. He’s gone, Mom.”

“No. No. No!” she screamed, the emotion finally coming through in her voice.

Had I not ratted him out, Anthony would have still been alive. But I couldn’t take this guilt on, too. I couldn’t let this eat at me. Anthony had murdered two of my friends. Had I not told Garin, he probably would have found out anyway. And, if I hadn’t put a stop to it, my brother could have killed more innocent people.

“My baby can’t be dead,” she wailed. “My baby. My baby.”

I slowly looked up, staring past the steering wheel at the house that was surrounded by palms and thick bushes. The beige stucco front. The two steps I had climbed countless times.

The house that had never once felt like it was mine.

I didn’t know where I would go. I