Page 65 of Until Death or Defeat

15

Giselle

“Whatdid you say?”

I’m surprised I even form the words. I feel like the world is spinning me and I feel light-headed.

“SolnishkoI?—”

“Artem, please. Please tell me this is just something you’re saying to get a rise out of me.”

I finally open my eyes and look at his sincere face. He looks apologetic. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“You deserve to know everything I know.”

I steady myself against the bar.

“What does that mean then?”

“Roman found paperwork in my father’s files with your mother’s autopsy. I guess he can’t say if it was legitimate but?—”

“Artem please don’t over explain, just tell me what it said. Please.”

“She was shot. Multiple times. Standing outside of her car and was found lying next to it. She never made it to the carfrom the theater.”

I don’t know what happens after he says that but when I open my eyes again, he’s holding me as we sit on the ground.

“I’m sorry. Your father believed your uncle was involved, and it’s what led to him and Leo stepping away, supposedly. I don’t know anything else but that.”

This can’t be happening. Can’t be my life. I can’t be reliving my mother’s death. Is he right? I never saw her. My father said he saw her when he went to identify her body and didn’t want an open casket because the crash was so bad. Did he lie to me?

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time as he holds me against him as I sob. He’s keeping me tight in his lap like I’ll drift away.

“Is it true? My uncle?” I muster through my tears.

“I don’t know, but I swear to you I’ll find the answers.”

All I can do is nod against his shoulder.

7 years ago

When I walk onto the rooftop; I’m not surprised to see his silhouette. But this time he’s standing on the ledge as if we’re not up on a tall building.

“Just jump,” I tease as I walk forward, and he chuckles as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

But he doesn’t act the same as usual. He seems. . .sad.

I don’t know why we both stand there silently, but it isn’t awkward. I guess we have moments like this, sometimes. Moments where one of us just isn’t strong enough for our battle.

“What do you regret the most in your life?” He suddenly asks ashe continues to walk the ledge as if he’s a tight rope walker. It makes me tense—but my answer is quick without hesitation.

“Not going with my mother the night she died.”

He seems to stop for a moment.

“Why would you want to go?”

“Because, maybe if I went, things would’ve been different. Butterfly effect, you know?” I say as I lean my arms against the ledge.