Kill or Tell

. xiv.

My body is still tingling from Cassidy's touch as we make our way back to her house, and my mind is racing, thoughts too quick to follow. Beside me, however, Cassidy is calmer than before — practically tranquil.

I don't know what's affecting me more, the fact that Cassidy actually touched me like that or the fact that I just set fire to my dead friend's old house.

I rub my cheeks, trying to come to terms with what just happened, but before I can even get some semblance of an organized thought, I'm standing on Cassidy's front porch, eyes caught on the peeling green paint of her front door. As Cassidy whips out her house key, I can't help but stare at her delicate fingers and the old burns that line them, wondering how they can look so damaged yet feel so wonderful.

Stop this, Beni, I chide myself half heartedly. You have a boyfriend.

But do I really?

No, I bite my lip, of course you do. Freddie's just in a bit of a tiff right now, and rightly so. Dicky Dresser is now dearly departed.

But I still can't shake the way Cassidy's touch was so much more than Freddie's.

"Are you coming in, love?" Cassidy's level voice yanks me out of my thoughts, bring me to attention. She stands inside, one hand propping open the door, one hand resting on her hip.

She really does have nice hips.

"Well?"

I blink, blush coloring my face as I duck my head. As I stride past her, Cassidy catches my arm, closing the door as halting me in my tracks.

"Love," she begins, voice low and seductive as she looks up at me with hooded eyes, "you know my father and I had a spat earlier, right?"

I swallow, jerking my head in affirmation.

"Well," she lets her head drop a bit, gazing up through her long, thick eyelashes, "I took care of most it, but I would really love it if you helped me... end it." She gives me a completely uncharacteristic pout, complete with pleading, puppy eyes that I've honestly never seen her use.

I try to swallow again, but my throat is suddenly dry. "S-sure."

The smile that curves her lips brings blood to my ears.

I follow her, hands pressed to my cheeks, as she leads me to her kitchen — even though I know where it is. I'm not really expecting it when we come upon her drunkard of a father slumped in a chair with a cluster of empty beer bottles resting beside him on the table. Nor am I expecting it when I catch sight of green glass shards scattered around him and a welt with the circumference of a golf ball swelled up on his forehead.

"What the," I murmur, unable to take my gaze off of the unconscious wretch.

"He's a horrible, horrible person," Cassidy sneers, apparently unsurprised by the scene that greets us. "He's a foul, loathsome little cockroach."

"Evil little cockroach," I can't help adding, a certain scene from a certain book I once read flashing through my mind.

"Hold out your hand," Cassidy commands, and I obey, obediently stretching my arm back and letting her place something cold and heavy in my palm.

Bringing my hand forward, I stare down at the deadly, black handgun in my grasp. "Cass—"

"You told me that you'd do anything for me," Cassidy interrupts, voice cracking.

"But—"

Cassidy wrenches up my head, forcing me to face her. "Are you telling that you lied to me, love?"

I gulp. My head spins with the gravity of what she's asking me to to do , even as I grip the gun.

"Beni..." She leans in, her nose touching mine. "Please, love. For me?"

I lift the gun, hands trembling as I take aim. I rest my finger on the trigger, unable to pull it back — unable to shoot.

"Love," Cassidy breathes, her words hot against my lips before she closes the distance between us, placing her lips upon mine.

I don't even realize that I've pulled the trigger until Cassidy is drawing away, and I can see the blood stain spreading across her father's shirt. He's gurgling, choking on blood as he swims into consciousness. My heart pounds in my chest, seizing up as I watch this man die.

It takes so long for him to finally still.

"See, love?" Cassidy trails her fingers down my cheek. "See what you're capable of?"

"Why didn't you do it?" I wheeze, tears spilling from my eyes as my chest tightens with the gravity of the situation.

Cassidy's face twists into a sneer. "Because, love," her voice is condescending, a startling change from her earlier seductive tone, "I've already ended the unwanted existence of a cockroach." She mimes shooting me in the head, point blank, and suddenly, the gears click in place.

"Chaddick," I croak, crying profusely.

She smiles.

Shocked, I lower my gaze to the floor, thinking of Buford and Dicky.

"I know you killed them," I whisper, my eyes glued to the floor as I twiddle my thumbs.

"Well then, are you going to turn me in?"

I bite my lip, unsure of myself. "I don't know." I look up, tensing at our eye contact. "But I don't want to."

She lends me a terse grin and turns away from me. "Then stop crying. It's annoying, love." And then she's gone.

I stifle my sobs and staunch my tears, stoppering my volatile emotions as I stumble out of the kitchen. Making my way to Cassidy's room, I collapse in her bed, trying so very hard to block out the thoughts in my head.

What have I done?