She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,171

and pulled open the drawer. I had placed a fifth of Maker’s Mark whiskey in there yesterday, a little more than half a bottle. I twisted off the cap, brought it to my lips, and drank. Not a lot, just until the shaking stopped. And it did eventually stop.

Stella’s ragged breaths became even, and she mumbled something in her sleep.

I must have stared at her for another hour before putting that bottle away, certain that if I closed my eyes for even a second, she would be gone when I opened them. She was so incredibly beautiful, so peaceful. She couldn’t possibly be here with me, but here she was, after all these years, with me, her Pip, my Stella.

Things would be all right now. I truly wanted to believe that. As long as we were together, we would be okay. I so wanted to believe that was true.

I went downstairs and let the air out of the tires on each of the white cars, with the exception of the occupied vehicle. I also made a mental note to pick up another knife at my first opportunity.

I finally climbed in beside her at a little before five in the morning, expecting to remain awake, but I was probably out in under a minute.

That was when bad things happened.

The dream.

Chocolate milk everywhere. In my hair, on my clothes, all over my fingers and seat.

Daddy screaming at Mommy, “Katy! You can’t sleep now, Katy! Stay awake!”

The squeal of tires.

Car doors opening.

Loud bangs.

“Got it!” Daddy said.

Loud bangs from Daddy, from the thing in his hand. He shouted at someone behind us. The someone behind us shouted back.

I cried.

I wanted to be a big boy, but I cried. I couldn’t even hear myself, though, not over all the banging.

I closed my eyes for only a second, but when they opened again, Daddy was gone. He had been standing beside Mommy, at her door. I couldn’t see where he went. The belts of my seat held me firm, and I couldn’t turn, I couldn’t see out all the windows.

The bangs stopped.

All at once, so quiet.

“Daddy?”

No response.

So quiet.

All alone.

Mommy wasn’t moving. I could see her hair, her head slumped over in the front seat.

All alone.

I started to cry again, and my door yanked open.

“Hey, buddy, let’s get you out of there. It’s going to be okay, everything will be okay,” Daddy said. But he was crying too, and I knew it wouldn’t be okay.

He carried me from our car to a white SUV parked behind us and laid me across the back seat. All the while, he kept my head buried in his chest, telling me not to look, not to look at anything. I did, though, and I saw people dressed in white lying on the ground, red stains on each of them.

I pulled myself up so I could see.

Daddy got in the driver’s seat, reversed the vehicle, and backed away from our car and the one we had run into, another white SUV like this one. We jolted as we stopped, and he threw it back in park. I nearly fell. “Stay down, Jack.” He was out the door again, running back to our car. He was going to get Mommy, I knew he was. He had to. We couldn’t leave without Mommy. Holding onto the headrest from the front seat, I watched as he went to Mommy in the car. He was crying loud now, louder than I had ever cried, and that made me cry. He leaned in the seat over her, he hugged her, he shook her. He pulled her to his chest and held her, and I didn’t understand why he didn’t just bring her to this car, put her in this front seat, because I wanted to hug her, too.

When Daddy left her door, he staggered back and I thought he might fall over. He didn’t, though. He looked back and saw me watching him. He motioned for me to get down with his hand. I didn’t, though. I kept watching as he dragged one of the people lying on the ground back to our car and put them into the front seat behind the wheel, Daddy’s seat. He always drove. Then he dragged the other two, the ones from this car, to the SUV we had run into, and put them in the back seat.

He ran about halfway back to me and screamed again for me to get down. This time I did, but not before I saw