Page 17 of Death, Interrupted
“Your girl?” Joey’s jaw tightened. “Goddammit, Sumner, we have a lunatic in our house and you’re not doing shit!”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Sly warned, squeezing his throat harder. “Leave her out of this.”
“Get off me, asshole,” Joey croaked.
“No,” Sly snapped back, anger written all over his handsome face. “Have some respect! I won’t allow any man to talk to a woman like that.”
“Why the fuck do you care? You’re a wannabe psycho-killer who can’t even kill me because you’re such a pussy.”
“Take that back!” Sly’s hand tightened around Joey’s throat even more, and I could visibly see the air being cut off. The sound Joey made wasn’t tough. I should have felt something then. Guilt, pity, anything. But I didn’t. If I had ever had the physical strength, I would’ve choked him long before. But he was too strong for me to take down. But Joey wasn’t too big for Sly, and he was here to do it for me.
“I’m not awannabepsycho-killer. Iama killer!” Sly’s voice was tight with emotions I wasn’t sure he even understood. “I killed your friends!”
My eyes widened before my brain caught up. Therewas something about that confession that rubbed me the wrong way, but the math lined up fast. Joey has gone to four funerals in the past weeks. Four of his friends tragically died in strange accidents. All in a matter of days. And from another friend, he hasn’t heard from in a day, even though they normally talked all the time.
“It was you…” I said under my breath, not thinking they would hear.
But they both turned their heads to look at me. Joey didn’t catch on, not with his pea-sized brain. But Sly knew exactly what I knew. His face softened, and it looked like he was trying to make room for the part of me that might be afraid of him. He didn’t want me to hold that picture of him, and I didn’t. What I saw was a man bent out of shape by damage, aiming himself at the people who had earned payback, a man who believed relief only came when the scales evened out. I wasn’t saying it was right. I was saying I understood it.
“Sumner, call the cops,” Joey whimpered, his eyes pleading.
I couldn’t look at him for long without remembering every shove, every punch, and every time I swallowed my own voice to keep the peace. I moved my gaze to Sly, who was still watching me, his expression soft with a hint of regret lingering in his eyes. He didn’t want me to see him as a monster. Butthat’s not what I saw in him. I saw a broken man who has been through a lot of hurt in the past. A man who wasn’t feeling like his true self, not unless he knew the people who hurt him got what they deserved. He was fighting with his morals, but sometimes, doing the wrong thing was the only way to feel better again.
“I can’t,” I whispered, never taking my eyes off Sly. I needed to get out of here. “I’ve never been here.”
I took a step back, not wanting to be here if the planned murder actually happened. My knees felt weak and my fingers shook as I reached for the door, but the loud groan ripping through my ears made me turn right back around.
The moment my eyes were back on the scene, I saw Sly fly over the coffee table. His boots clipped a stack of magazines, a vase broke soon after, and then his back slammed into the large TV screen with a loud sound that rattled the mount.
Joey was on his feet, squirming with his arms and legs, trying to get the tape off. As strong as it was, it seemed like it was about to rip. He hopped and twisted, a mean grin already forming like he was tasting a win. My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my throat. If he got free, he’d not only hurt Sly, but me too. He was angry at me for not calling the cops immediately, and with all that anger inside of him, he’d do great damage. One I wouldn’t be able to recover from for a while. Or ever.
“Motherfucker!” Joey roared, hopping on his taped feet, and trying to get around the coffee table. “You’re a dead man, Sylvester!”
“Oh, come on! I told you to call me Sly,” he said with a roll of his eyes, trying to scramble back to his feet. He had hit the TV hard and needed a moment to catch himself again, but Sly was quick, shaking the throw off like a pro-wrestler. He stood fast, with his hand gripped tight around the knife, and his stance low. Every inch of him was focused.
“Joey, don’t,” I warned, but he ignored me. Why would he listen to me now that I have openly betrayed him? He was furious, and the only thing on his mind was to kill Sly. I didn’t want to think about it, but if Joey managed to actually kill Sly in his own house, it would be seen as self-defense. But if Sly took Joey out, it would be murder.
“You think you can take me down, big guy?”
“I don’t fucking need my hands and feet to do so. You’re a weak little maniac.”
“Please stop,” I tried to shout out, but my voice was overruled by another one of Joey’s roars as he lunged toward Sly. He threw his whole weight forward, head low, shoulders squared for collision, all brute force and no real plan.
I gasped, cupping my mouth with both hands as I watched his large body fall. Sly moved on instinct, taking a step to the side and getting outof harm’s way.
“Oh my god!”
A loud thud was the last thing we heard before it all went silent. Nobody was moving, and my heart stopped for just a second before it restarted to beat loudly and fast. I stared down at Joey’s unmoving body on the floor, with a pool of blood oozing out of his temple. The color spread slowly, finding the seams between floorboards and turning the air metallic in my mouth. I was in shock, and the quiet became unbearable.
Sly was looking down at him, too, and the silence was finally broken when he threw his hand into the air with a loud, annoyed groan. “Why does this always happen?!”
Chapter 6
Sly
I had to admit it, for once, that this one was not on me. I didn’t trip him. I didn’t shove him. I wasn’t even close enough to the fucker to breathe the same air he was wasting, and still he managed to end up dead. Accidentally. Joey was an idiot for throwing himself at me with his legs and arms taped. Did he think momentum would pause out of respect for his ego? Did he think I would stand there and politely let him flatten me? Thinking had never been his sport, so I suppose the answerwas obvious.
God was he stupid!