If You Wrong Us (20 page)

“You know what?” I say, ready to make my move. I can’t wait any longer. I pull the gun from my waistband and point it at Becca. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This is done. I’m done.”

“Wait, wait,” she says. “There’s more, Johnny. So much more.”

45

B
ECCA

J
ohnny was turning on me, I could see it. It had happened gradually, but at that point he was in full-fledge desertion mode. Ready to throw me to the enemy at any time.

Of course, I knew about Ethan’s asthma, and the drugs did pose a problem for him. But it wasn’t like he was making his way out of here anytime soon. That was kind of the whole point. I mean, how could you make a monster like Travis Kent pay? Simple. You take away the person closest to him—the only person he’s ever really cared about. Like he took Brit from me. Like he took Johnny’s mom.

I found Travis’s confession on Hush months ago. I knew he’d have to brag about it to someone. It must’ve killed him to remain anonymous. It was all right there, but I couldn’t share it with Johnny. Not yet. Information like that had to be revealed carefully. Finally, it was time.

Once Johnny found out, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He was explosive, ready to blow at any minute.

All I had to do was light the match.

“Go ahead, Travis,” I said. “Tell Johnny what these papers say. Tell him what you did to our families.”

Travis didn’t move a muscle.

“You tell him,” I said, “or I will.”

Welcome to Hush

Responsible:

The crash was quick and brutal.

Metal scraping, tires squealing, glass breaking.

Then nothing. Smoke and quiet.

I pulled my truck past the two cars on the side of the road. I got out and ran back. That part was instinct. So was the next, I guess.

First, I went to the girl. She didn’t move. I was sure she was dead. I’d later find out she wasn’t, but it took a while for that to happen.

Then I went and looked at the other car. The woman.

She was still alive.

“Help,” she said in a gurgly voice. Blood coming up her throat and spilling out of the sides of her mouth.

That’s when I should’ve called. I should’ve done something.

But I didn’t.

I just stood there and stared at the woman.

“Tell my family,” she gurgled again. “Tell them I love them.”

She sat there, trapped in her seat, trying to regulate her breathing.

Fighting for her life.

I made a point to nod at her request … before getting into my car and driving away.

46

B
ECCA

J
ohnny still had the gun pointed toward me, but I knew he wouldn’t shoot. This was part of his escape plan. Well, I’m sorry, but that was not going to happen. Not after we’d come this far.

Travis hadn’t made any move to tell us about Hush, so I read his confessional. I read about the way he deliberately drove Brit into a head-on crash and left Johnny’s mom to die.

“He was there when she died,” I said to Johnny. “He was there.”

Then I waited for it to register.

47

J
OHNNY

H
e was there,” Becca says again. “He could’ve saved her. Your mom didn’t have to die.”

“No,” I yell. “No.”

My brain is racing, so I start pacing to keep up. Things are getting slippery again. Everything is jumbled, coming into my head out of order. Yet everything is moving so fast I can’t organize it.

Brit.

Dead … blood … gurgling … family.

Goodbye … Mom … love … left.

Truck. Gurgle. Blood.

Save. Save. Save.

“You do what you need to do,” I hear Becca say softly. “Nobody would blame you if you took Ethan. If you paid Travis back. We deserve justice. We all deserve it.”

“Stop,” I say. “Just stop.”

Ethan begins to fade from my thoughts as my back-up plan changes again. Saving him is no longer my top priority. The gun in my hand changes course—moving from Becca toward Travis.

The war begins: rage verses devastation.

I can’t bear to think of Mom’s final minutes. I can’t handle knowing she suffered; she knew she was going to die. She saw Travis walk away from her.

Rage begins to win this battle.

I can’t think around it.

I move closer to the scumbag.

A muffled cry comes from Travis. From his filthy mouth. Teardrops fall down his face and all I can think about is ripping him apart. And showing him. Showing him why it mattered that he left the scene. Making him understand exactly what he did.

Becca closes in on me—her tiger-and-prey move. She rests both hands on my arms, stroking them. Speaking in an almost soothing voice. Full of emotion. Her eyes dancing.

“No,” Becca says. “Not Travis. You need to make him suffer. Hurting him will only make things easier. Put him in pain like he put us in pain. Point the gun at Ethan. Please, Johnny. For me.”

Too much noise.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

My finger shakes on the trigger.

“You can do it,” Becca says. “Yes, it’s a perfectly logical response. It is justified. It evens things out. I would understand. And I’ll support you. Whatever you need.”

“Okay then,” I spit, feeling my body heat with rage. Murderous rage. I’m discovering there is such a thing. “It’s settled.”

I move the gun once again.

48

B
ECCA

I
wanted him to do it. I needed him to do it.

I just had to play the game a little longer.

Though Ethan was my pawn, he was Travis’s king. We had captured the king.

Checkmate.

It wasn’t enough. We had to finish this.

“Pull the trigger,” I said. I said it over and over.

Over Johnny’s screams and Travis’s cries.

“Ethan is still out. He won’t even see it coming,” I said. “It’ll be peaceful. Not at all like what Travis did to our families.”

Pull. The. Trigger.

The Elements of a Crime:
Crime and Punishment

For every crime, there must be a punishment. At least in any civilized society, am I right? In the U.S., justifications for punishment falls into two categories:

• Retributive:
  claims that punishment is justified because the criminal deserves it.
  
• Utilitarian:
  claims that punishment is useful.
  The useful purposes of punishment are: prevention, rehabilitation, and incapacitation.
  

Then there are the six theories of criminal justice based on the following goals:

• Retribution:
  Eye for an eye. Fan favorite.
  
• General Deterrence:
  Punish the offender in order to send a message to the general population. (Done all the time in school.)
  
• Specific Deterrence:
  Punish the offender so they will not do the same thing again.
  
• Rehabilitation:
  Incarcerate the offender to
  treat
  them, so they won’t do anything like this again. For
  their
  own good.
  
• Restraint/Incapacitation:
  Incarcerate dangerous offenders to get them off the street and separate them from society; prevent future harm by these people. For
  our
  own good.
  
• Public Education:
  Communicate what values are important to society by determining what we punish.
  

Can you hear me up here on this pedestal?

Becca would say I was a good candidate for all of these. In the end, however, she didn’t think legal punishment was enough. She had a better way to make me suffer.

I knew I deserved it.

I deserved to be punished for a lot of things.

But Ethan didn’t.

He was just a kid who was always getting messed up in things. In the wrong place at the wrong damn time. I would take the fall for him. I’d do anything.

Becca, though, she wanted his blood on my hands. Like Brit’s blood was on hers.

What she didn’t know—what the two of them will never know—was that it was Ethan’s idea to go after Brit.

After her little scene, Brit stormed off. Ethan heard the entire exchange and just looked at me in disbelief. People didn’t talk to me that way, and despite the fact that Ethan had never even liked Becca (he never liked anyone who got too close to me), he didn’t like people telling me what to do.

We made our own rules.

I’d taught him that.

“You can’t let her go, Johnny,” he said. “Not after what she tried to do.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Then I thought about my next move.

Turns out, I didn’t have to.

Ethan had already made the decision for me. He followed her.

He wanted to teach her a lesson.

Becca and Johnny can’t find out about that.

Ethan has a long line of offenses—most in my honor. The rumors about me? They’re mostly true. But it was Ethan who got me into the messes. Like the time he beat up on my ex-girlfriend because she cheated on me. Ethan heard her confession when she came out to the house. He just went ape shit on her.

He was dangerous. Still, I couldn’t fault him for it, so I covered for him. He’s been screwed with his whole life. I’ve been his only protection, and I wasn’t about to stop. I told him I’d handle it.

And I did.

Too bad I got to the scene of the accident too late.

Brit, she deserved what happened. But I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I really wanted to help Johnny’s mom, but I couldn’t risk staying or calling it in. Ethan could be taken from us.

I couldn’t do that to him.

So we left.

49

J
OHNNY

I
still have the gun to Ethan’s head. I don’t want to pull the trigger. But I want to destroy Travis. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything in my life.

Two birds, one stone.

But it doesn’t matter what
I
want.

“Don’t do it, man,” Travis begs. “Don’t do it.”

I put the gun back in my jeans and I grab my knife instead.

“No, no, no,” Travis chants.

Becca’s eyes flicker, but she says nothing.

I take my knife and stand over Ethan.

“Johnny,” Becca says. “Do it.”

Then Cassie’s voice rings in my ear:
Don’t follow her down the rabbit hole.

Travis cries.

It’s just too much, so I grip my knife and slice.

The room is still as I start cutting away.

Soon, deep cathartic sobs ring out in the dank cell as I cut through the bindings to remove Ethan’s restraints. Travis’s chants turn into, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

My girl is not feeling the love. She’s already out the door and on the move. She’s nobody’s fool.

I’ll support you, whatever you need,
she said. What a load of shit.

I free Ethan and then move to Travis, putting my knife under his chin.

“You wait until we’re gone,” I tell him, applying pressure to the blade. “Then you get your brother some help.”

He nods so vigorously, it looks like it hurts.

“I was not here.” I begin cutting through his restraints. “Becca was not here. Remember, we got to you once. We can do it again.”

More nods.

“You belong in jail, you piece of crap,” I say, cutting a little more carelessly than I need to. “But sinking you would sink us too. So I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“If that’s how it has to be, I can live with it,” Travis says.