EIGHTY-THREE

Freedom and Misery

Jarrod watched Tessa wearily when she pulled the gun. She held the tip of the gun to her temple, thumping gently. He looked behind her, far into the large tent he had set up for the wedding—except it was he and Lolita’s wedding, not hers. He began to regret not killing Tessa on time. She was a ticking bomb, one that was sure to set off any moment.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, Tess, just let it be.” he said as gently as he could.

Tessa only smiled. She walked to him slowly, one step in front of the other, like she was practicing a theatrical move. When she reached him, she raised her leg up into the air and stomped it down on Lolita’s knee. Jarrod heard the sickening crunch as Lolita’s knee cap broke. She gasped and then cried in pain; a thunderous scream that threatened to uproot everything he put in place. Her pain had pierced through the haze of death that loomed over her.

He clenched his fists in anger. Emotions swirled inside him; too many to keep count