Page 113 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
“No!” I say, seeing the intention in his eyes. “Have you lost your mind, Brian? Don’t you fucking dare pull that trigger!”
He shrugs at my lack of compliance, shoots the girl, and without breaking his stride, continues out the door to take care of the driver.
The girl stands there for a moment, completely stunned. I’m sure my expression mirrors hers. Neither of us can believe it, though I should be able to by now. Her hand goes to her stomach. She pulls it slowly up to her face to see her own blood.
She glances back to her dad and then to me as though she’s trying to use her last few moments alive to understand what happened—as if knowing the details will make any difference to the ending. Then she stumbles and falls to the ground.
I rush to her, my hand pressing against hers as if together we can hold the blood in, but I know we can’t. Even if I could callfor help, they wouldn’t get here in time. A hit to the stomach like this isn’t salvageable.
“I’m so so sorry,” I say through my gathering tears. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
But she’s already gone, staring unblinking at the ceiling.
I’m numb. I can’t believe this just happened. I can’t believe Brian just… But why not? Why can’t I believe it? It’s not as though I haven’t had mountains of evidence of what he is. It’s not as though I somehow didn’t know he was a sociopath. But I compartmentalized. I romanticized. He was my hero so it didn’t matter if he was the rest of the world’s villain.
“Come on, we’ve got to go,” Brian says. His words are as casual as if we were just running late for some inconsequential meeting.
I’m covered now in this poor girl’s blood, and I can’t stop the tears. The tears quickly turn into sobs, and I look up at Brian who just stares at me as though he can’t understand this meltdown. And he can’t. He’s not even human.
“You fucking monster!” I scream. “How the fuck could you just walk straight at her and shoot her without blinking? She was a young innocent girl with her whole life ahead of her.”
“Yeah, and we just killed her dad. She walked in on her dad’s bloody body. How do you think she’d have turned out, Mina? We can’t leave witnesses. You know that. She’s old enough to be able to talk to police. I told you back in July that this life sometimes comes with casualties and you’d have to decide if you could handle that.”
“Fuck you! You cold motherfucking bastard! She was just a girl! Just a kid. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I thought something in him was changing, but I was lying to myself, telling myself pretty stories about how my love had turned the beast into a prince. But in real life, they never really do transform into anything good, do they?
The way he’s been watching over Aidan, I thought… I was so fucking stupid. Of course he hasn’t somehow grown a heart in that empty black pit in his chest.
Brian sighs. “I know it’s tragic but…”
“Tragic? Tragic?!? That’s just a fucking word to you, Brian. Like ice cream, or noodles. It doesn’tmeananything to you. You don’t feel anythingreal!”
My voice is growing raw from the screaming.
“Mina…”
“Do you feel anything for me at all? Can you even feelanythingor is it all just a fucking mask? Why bother if there’s nothing inside you? Why bother playing with me and pretending…”
“Do you think I took some kind of pleasure in this?” Brian asks, gesturing to the girl.
“Yes, Brian. I think you fucking did, you psycho!”
“I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
He can’t answer me, but I know exactly why not. Because I wouldn’t like it. The only reason he didn’t like that just as much as any other kill, was because he knowsIwouldn’t like it. My displeasure takes the edge off what would otherwise be just a normal day for him.
“I am the only leash you have, and even then you still cross these lines!”
“Mina, we need to go. We can talk about this later.”
I pull myself up off the floor. And there is a part of me that is so defeated right now and ready to just follow behind Brian like some docile kicked dog. But then there’s another piece of me coming apart at the seams. I pick up a wine glass from the table and throw it.
The shatter is so satisfying—the splash of dark red merlot against the wall like the beginning process of a Jackson Pollock.How can I love this monster? Why do I feel these things for him that I know he can’t return?
Yes, I’m a killer too. It doesn’t break me to pull that trigger, but I have limits. I can’t take out innocent kids. Or sweet old people. Or puppies. Brian would probably shoot a kitten if he thought it would be somehow expedient.
