Samuel aimed his gun towards Miguel, who tried to use the other man to cover himself from bullet-fire. Samuel put a bullet straight through his own hit-man with little emotion and pushed the body to one side. Michael had no idea how he managed it, but Miguel dove to one side and wrenched the gun from Samuel’s hand, twisting his arm as he head-butted him with such force, Michael could hear the cracking sound from the other side of the room.
“You killed them, you fucking worm. My wife. My kid. They did nothing to you.” He moved the angle of the gun down to his groin area. The deafening reverberations of the bullet were soon drowned out by the howling. The sound of pure, unadulterated pain.
As Tanya made a run for the front door, Antonio left Michael and darted across the room, dragging her back, yanking her arm hard and slapping her into submission. Antonio held Tanya by the hair, keeping her in one place as he went to turn his gun on Miguel at the same time. In the time that Antonio had taken to stop Tanya from escaping, Miguel had grabbed one of three large bottles of gasoline that were stashed in the corner. Michael assumed they had planned on burning the evidence afterwards. Miguel tipped the bottle in Antonio’s direction, liberally dowsing him in the liquid and accidentally splashing Josie and Tanya in the process.
He came closer until he was pouring it directly over Antonio’s head, and once it was empty, he hurled it across the room. Michael hoped that he wouldn’t let everyone burn just to get back at Samuel, but he knew he was single-minded and in pain so didn’t put it past him.
“You don’t want to do that.” Antonio spluttered as gasoline dripped from his hair onto his face. The choking reek of chemicals filled the air.
“Why the fuck not?” He challenged him.
“Do you not want to know where your daughter is? I know Samuel said she was dead, but—”
Miguel pulled a silver flip lighter from his pocket. “Then you better tell me now or you burn.”
“I can take you to her. You and me just need to go for a little drive. Work this thing out. You’ve been loyal up until now. This can work out for everyone I swear.”
Michael wondered if a gunshot could ignite gasoline as he saw Antonio reach for his gun. They looked at each other, trying to figure each other out. Josie ran to Michael, her hands shaking profusely. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.” She repeated over and over like a record stuck on a loop. Her sister followed behind her. “Josie, I—”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” Josie shouted, taking her cardigan and pressing it against Michael’s chest, making him scream with the pressure. “It’s okay. It’s going to be fine,” she muttered as she put a hand on his forehead.
“Is there anything I can do?” Tanya uttered meekly, a look of shame plastered on her face.
“Oh, you’ve done enough.” Josie was trembling now, a combination of fear and rage.
“Why are you even here? I didn’t ask you here,” said Tanya, as if that would somehow make everything better.
“Because you’re my sister.”
“I loved him. I didn’t think. It just happened. It was—”
“Love.” Josie laughed spitefully. “You have got to be kidding me. You have no fucking idea what love is… the way you treat people.”
“If I’m so terrible, like you always said, then why the hell did you come in the first place?”
“Because that’s what people do. They care. They give and give and give. They sacrifice. All I have ever seen you do is take. You kept the money, didn’t you? Bankrupted mom and dad, then fucked around with some cartel member of all people.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh, then do tell me, what exactly was it like? There is no way you can talk your way out of this, justify this. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
As Michael lay there, the sisters’ shouting grew faint. He couldn’t believe the last words he would hear, would just be hate. Even now, she was too busy arguing to pay attention to what was happening, but then, hadn’t he been doing the exact same his entire life. Taking every part of his life, no matter how big or small, and turning it into an argument, a conflict, a battle. Ignoring any good thing, dismissing any compliment. He hadn’t been paying attention. Never. But now, he couldn’t help but cling onto consciousness, any last bit of awareness he had to keep him anchored to this world. His whole life his sentience had been his greatest curse, but it was all he knew.
Everything happened in slow motion now as he saw Miguel and Antonio struggle, and the flame of the lighter traveled towards the ground. The porous concrete had sucked up the gasoline in like a sponge. The flames came quickly. Starting on the floor, and a whoosh, as the burning energy traveled along the floor, and leaped up Antonio’s body, surrounding him in white light. As he dropped to the ground sparks ignited the burlap blanket, taking the body of the first man with it. It didn’t take long for smoke to start catching Michael’s throat. The room had seemed so bare before, yet there were so many little things dotted around that fueled the fire. Flames spread across the walls, fingers of yellow and orange curling up to the ceiling, leaving a thick blanket of smoke.
The pain in Michael’s body when he moved that had forced him to stop trying, had now been surpassed by the pain of the heat of the fire—moving was the lesser of
