[smg id=31099 type=normal align=center width=150] by Kasey Millstead Page B

knew he was dead regardless.
    The whole thing seems to go in slow motion, as it always does in situations like this.  I see his knees bend slightly and his body lurch forward.  In my peripheral vision, I see Rad’s Glock jerk slightly as his finger compresses on the trigger.  The smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils about the same time as the sound of the gun discharging meets my ears. 
    My eyes are trained on Miguel.  His body jolts and his eyes roll back in his head.  A small round hole just above his left eyebrow is the only damage to the front of his face.  I know the back of his head is much worse off though, because his brain matter is now splattered on the wall and window behind him.
    His body slumps to the ground as Willa starts to scream.  I rush over to her, deftly untying her restraints and wrapping her in my arms so I can rock her side to side.  I pull away slightly when I see a chunk of Miguel’s skull in her hair.  Instead of telling her, because I know she’ll make herself sick, I awkwardly tug my shirt over my head with one hand and wipe the remnants away while she cries into my chest.
    I hear Rad on the phone, probably organizing a cleanup crew, but I don’t bother listening in.  I focus all of my attention on Willa, stroking her hair until her tears subside and all that’s left is the sporadic shudders that shake her little frame.
    It’s then, for the first time since we came into the room, that I really look at her.  I see skin.  Naked skin.  My throat constricts with rage and I grip her arms a little too tightly.  Sitting her back off my body a little so I can meet her eyes, I ask tightly, “Did he touch you?”
    She swallows hard.  “Not really.  Just s-stroked my butt o-once before you g-got here.”
    “ Fuck!  Fucking hell.”  My roar fills the room and startles Willa, whose eyes widen in fear.  Trying my best to reassure her, I drag my thumb slowly over her cheek.  My muscles are bunched up tight, contracting as my body fights the urge to tear this place up to rid myself of the fury radiating through me. 
    I look over to the piece of shit lying crumpled on the dirty floor and spit at him, my saliva spraying over his face.
    “Come here, baby girl.”  She curls herself into my lap and holds me tight, burying her face into my neck.  I close my eyes and drop my head into her shoulder as relief makes my body sag.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    Willa
     
     
     
     
     
    I don’t think I can quite believe that he is actually here, holding me.  That I am safe.  That Miguel is dead.  Actually dead.  His lifeless eyes are drained of evil, his soul burning in the depths of hell.
    I curl myself further into Oak and relish his familiar scent.
    He came for me.
    Oh god, my brother shot Miguel!
    My body automatically tenses at the reminder.  What if Rad goes to jail?  He can’t go to jail.  He can’t.  The thought makes me want to start crying again.
    “What’s wrong, Willa?” Oak asks gently.
    “What will happen to Rad?” my voice is hoarse, my throat tender from screaming earlier.
    “Don’t worry about that, darlin’.”  He lifts me into his arms and walks out.  When he closes the door behind him, I promise myself right then and there that I will leave behind the worst time in my life, right there in that room.  I will not carry this grief with me forever. 
    I don’t want to live like that.  I don’t want to become someone like my mother.  I am stronger than her. 
    So, I will leave the destruction right where it lies, dead on the dirty carpet floor of a rundown warehouse just outside Dale, Oklahoma.
     
    ***
     
    After securing the helmet on my head, Oak holds my hand to steady me as I climb on his Harley.
    Thankfully, Rad had a spare shirt, so I’m wearing that over my jeans that the boys found tossed aside in the warehouse.
    I watch quietly as Oak reaches into his saddlebag and takes out a black tee shirt.  He deftly pulls it over his head and then he slides on