Page 14 of Vile Bastards
And, I didn’t have to die feeling entirely alone. Even as I’m drifting off, I’m thinking about the way she felt in my arms and wishing that I’d simply given in and kissed her.
One, last regret to bid me farewell from this life, and welcome me into the next.
Hello, Papa.
Bohnes
Scarlett Force is dead.
I consider that as a possible reality and realize then that I’m waffling between being suicidal and being homicidal. On the latter, I should at least add that I’d make sure to drag other monsters with me to the grave. I’d likely end up dead on a vigilante binge, but if not, suicide would always be an option later.
It’s not a particularly healthy state of mind, but I’ve never been a particularly healthy person—mentally speaking.
The Chevelle blasts through the night, and we end up at the local hospital with the heater blasting and Widow continuing to perform CPR in the back seat. He’s murmuring between breaths, these panting, desperate phrases like “come on, baby” or “I told you I only had room in my heart to try once; you’re not allowed to die.”
I don’t let myself think any more on the possibility; I exist only in the current reality.
The urge to self-flagellate is there, but I can’t waste the energy.
If Scarlett survives, I’ll do it later. If she doesn’t, well, again: suicide or homicide.
I could at least murder one child molester before I died, right? That seems like the heroic thing to do, doesn’t it? I can’t go out without making a true, positive difference in the world.
We arrive at the hospital with Ash just behind us. He stumbles out of his own car before I’ve fully come to a stop. The staff look his way—at his bloody arm, his oozing hand—and assume he’s the one who needs attention. I’m already out the door, too, helping Widow move Scarlett’s body.
The attention of the ER staff shifts, and then Scarlett is being whisked away on a stretcher, and I know that as much as we want to: none of us can stay.
“We have another patient,” Ash tells one of the staff members, and then they’re pulling Alexei Grove’s cold body out and loading him onto a stretcher of his own. Sigh. We should’ve left him there, but I felt a strange sense of obligation to drag him along.
First, because he’s my client. I have never behaved less than professionally in my chosen career, and I don’t particularly feel inclined to start acting like a hooligan now. Integrity is something that cannot be purchased or won or coerced; a person either has it or they do not.
Most people have little to none; I pride myself on being one of a select few individuals that truly embodies the idea.
Second, because of Scarlett. Because if she dies, then she’d want him to live. I know her far too well to think she’d ever forgive me—in this life or any other—if I allowed Alexei to die out of mere jealousy.
Besides, Ash was able to drape him over his back and carry him without slowing us down too much. It’s the only reason I allowed it.
“We need to go,” I tell Widow, even though my throat is tight, and my heartstrings are being pulled taut as Scarlett is torn away from us. If we don’t go back and clean up the mess that is Ralph Shipman, Scarlett might live through tonight, but she won’t live much longer.
I climb back into the Chevelle, and Widow joins me.
Ash Kelly stays at the hospital, and I hate that the idea of that brings me some small crumb of relief.
Ah, what complete and total shit. Both rich boys are going to be left with Scarlett.
And, as usual, it’ll be the poor ones who clean up their messes.
I’m sitting outside of Scarlett’s house, smoking a cigarette. I probably shouldn’t be here, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I’m feeling twitchy and murderous and monstrous (more so than usual, I mean). I resist the urge to bite someone. Namely, I resist the urge to bite Widow. Luckily for him, he’s out of reach or I just might do it.
“Why are you here?” a voice asks, drawing my attention around to that girl, Scarlett’s sister. Alexis Rose Force. I know her; I know everyone in this family. Would I be a proper stalker if I didn’t? I consider my answer for a moment before responding. There’s no sense in being rude to my soulmate’s sister.
“For Scarlett.” The statement is mild, factually accurate, and yet reveals nothing about me or my true intentions whatsoever. It’s been a busy two days, and I’m too tired to entertain this girl—even if she is Scarlett’s sister.
Alexis comes down the steps to stand beside me. I don’t like that. I don’t like people near me whatsoever. Humans are unruly, deceitful creatures. I should know: I am one.
