And as I look over my shoulder, he has a gun in his hand. The hand lifts. I don’t think he’ll shoot me—not here. Too public. But he might knock me out with the butt of it. And if that happens, the game is over. I’m gone. Lilah might as well be gone. And as that hand comes down, I close my eyes, waiting for it to happen. In my mind, I apologize. To Lilah, who doesn’t deserve to lose another person. To Mom, who put this burden on my shoulders, but I still accepted it. To Dad, even if he doesn’t deserve it. To Ben, who is going to live with guilt he didn’t earn. And most of all, to myself. To New
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