'We never learn, we've been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets'

'Beloved son and brother, dear friend, and inspiring citizen.

Douglas Thornton'

I stared at the golden letters on the granite, a dark gray granite, almost black, almost the same color as his eyes that I'd never been able to read, and now, it all came down to these words, and two dates: 1938-1962.

Was it what he had been? A beloved son and brother, dear friend, and inspiring citizen? I doubted everyone could agree with that.

Blade was right. Dead people were buried underground but kept on a pedestal.

Though maybe it all depended on the perspective. I had never seen farther than the blackness of his eyes and his greed for power, but maybe he had been that beloved son, brother, friend, and citizen for some people.

It was enough to see his mother's eyes; those words were inked there between the blood vessels and blur of tears even more than in the heart-breaking speech she had read at the church. 

With her sobs breaking through half of it, I hadn't understood everything she had said, but there had been something that had stung me more than any other elaborate speeches, even his father's – though it was surely because I'd heard my dad advise half of the mayor's words through the phone this morning, and it sounded too much like a campaign rhetoric.

'If people think that will scare me away from the governorship, then, they're very wrong. It gives me even more reasons to fight, and I won't stop until all our children are safe again.'

Maybe maternal love just couldn't be equaled, nor understood by anyone else.

That woman had been the first to feel Douglas's heartbeat in her belly, and I had ended it all with a flicker of my finger. I couldn't even imagine the agony she was going through, yet the wrench of my insides was so strong that I'd almost spilled the truth during her speech, and now, in the silence of remembrance, that same scream was arising again.

I'd expected to have gone through the worst between all the praises and prayers, the preached words of love and forgiveness of the priest, and the hateful whispers against the killer as soon as people had stepped out of the church, but it was nothing in comparison with the silence, heavy with sobs and lies.

I could feel the weight pushing down on my chest as my breaths were becoming shallower, and my fists were tightening as if I was struggling with a ton on my tense shoulders. Yet the pressure wasn't only from outside, and the bangs of my heart echoing like gunshots, and that scream growing with all the truths were even harder to contain.

If the silence kept growing heavier, I only saw two options: running or exploding, but in both cases, it would end with a crash.

Even if I gripped the fidget toy in my right hand tighter to prevent it, my left fist was starting to shake, and I felt myself becoming that dangerous mess again. However, this time, I was held back by a hand wrapping around my fist and slowly unclosing it to slide in between my fingers.

I didn't need to look to know who it was, but I still turned my attention away from those taunting words to meet the two brown orbs, and the look in Spencer's eyes silenced my screams inside.

With everything, we still hadn't talked – maybe also because I was cowardly avoiding it – so I didn't know where we were standing, but in that instant, we were in front of Douglas's grave, together, and it was enough for my breathing to steady and my shoulders to relax. My heartbeat was still as strong, though it didn't sound as deadly as gunshots; it resembled more a... horse galloping.

Even dressed in all black, he looked a lot like a prince charming, saving me from an impending crash, and although that same voice screaming for truths was whispering to me that I was the villain of the story, in his eyes, I could easily feel like a princess. For once, he didn't even need words for this. I could still hear all the sweet ones he'd ever whispered to me.

'Don't listen to what they say. You can be a pirate, you can be a princess– a pirate princess! Anything you want.' There was the same worry dripping from these teddy brown shades as when I'd been running to that special tree in my backyard in a way-too-fluffy tutu, and he'd covered one of my tears-strained eyes with a pirate patch.

If I looked closer, I could even glimpse a tiny spark of that amber color, flickering like that time he'd handed me a special letter, where he'd written 'Spencer and Dorothy through it all' and that he would 'follow me to the moon', along with other unforgettable words.

There was much more, but I didn't get to catch it as his gaze flicked to the side, and the shadow of his frown obscured everything to give way to an emotion I'd rarely seen: terror.

I was brought back to where we were: in front of the grave of the man I'd killed, and I leaned away, following his gaze towards the preacher and the man in uniform walking to him.

I froze at this sight, yet it wasn't because of the many insignias, nor the way he was whispering solemnly to the pastor. No, it was the look in his eyes that chilled me to the bones with a shiver down my spine I'd thought I would never feel again.

"Who's that?" I blinked my eyes in hope to dissipate the haunting image, but it was too real like the cold sweat forming on my skin in spite of the beating sun of this early afternoon.

"Kenneth Thornton." The hushed reply came from my right, reminding me Travis and Rachel were there beside me, along with more people in front and behind us, more than I'd ever seen in Subrose cemetery, and it was to those hundreds of people that Kenneth Thornton spoke to as he took the pastor's place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll take the last words, since I'm the older brother."

Of course, it explained their undeniable resemblance, even though it didn't seem to be only the years that made this man's features appear harsher than Douglas's. His stature was about twice as Douglas's and wrapped in a navy jacket, and it made his soulless eyes even more striking when they traveled from the headstone to the hole where the casket had already been placed.

"I know I'm late, Doug. It's for all the times you showed up late at my awards ceremonies." The man chuckled, seemingly in deep conversation with his brother, while I wondered...

Had Douglas been late because he'd been too busy sneaking into dark corners and preying on innocent young women who had been there to support their boyfriends, brothers, or fathers?

My mind shouldn't have wandered there at this instant, not in that holy place where souls were supposed to rest, not with all these people mourning around, yet the guilt and pity I'd felt in the past minutes were slowly giving way to another emotion seeing Kenneth's gaze.

"Do you know him?" Spencer leaned over my shoulder to ask Travis, surely with the same thought as mine in mind.

"Not personally, but almost everyone has heard of him in the army. They say he's merciless with his recruits..."

I didn't dare to ask more or even risk a glance at Travis, as his low whisper was saying it all, and if it wasn't enough to set the bad feeling deep in my guts, Kenneth imprinted the chills deeper with his dark eyes.

"Though it should have been at your elections, not your funerals... You had so much potential, and I can swear on your grave that I'll find whoever did this, and make them pay."

Any hope for a fair judgment was annihilated with those words; it was revenge Kenneth's gaze sought as he turned to the crowd.

"I announce to you all that from now on, I'll be taking over the affair, and rest assured that I'll find the murderer."

My heart stopped in that instant; there was no more echo of gallop, nor gunshot, neither hope nor guilt, just a freezing nothing. The only thing I was feeling was Spencer squeezing my hand like to tell me we were in this together, and from Kenneth's look, it was clearly down we were heading together.

That gaze I'd thought I would never see again was there, scanning through the large crowd with an acuteness Douglas could have never possessed, and I was once more left cornered. I had no choice but to carry my burden and do it without flinching as Kenneth's eyes slowly slid to our side.

"Okay, I think on those words, we'll bless our deceased," the Reverend interrupted the inquisitive silence with an awkward throat clearing, though Kenneth's gaze didn't waver, and when I felt it lingering on Spencer and I's linked hands, I knew I had to let it go and follow everyone that grabbed roses.

I couldn't let my hands betray my nervousness, nor any sign of lying. It was like I was back in that interrogation room, but in a much more unnerving way because even though there were no walls constricting me around, there were many eyes instead, and some that weren't looking for justice but revenge.

So with my head down, squeezing my way between Rachel and Spencer in the line of people walking for a last goodbye to Douglas, I repeated to myself that I was just anyone blending in the crowd, an 'anyone' with red hair that was hard to pass unnoticed in this sea of mourning clothes, an 'anyone' that gripped the thornless rose so tightly that I still drew blood, an 'anyone' whose each step was heavier to take, and an 'anyone' that couldn't glance down at the casket as I could still see his lifeless body on the ground.

Yet I wasn't the only one in this crowd, and while everyone was looking down, I met a pair of eyes on the other side of Douglas's grave.

My hand already lifting to drop the rose on Douglas's coffin like anyone around stopped midair, as it wasn't just 'anyone' in front of me. It was the girl Douglas had been cornering when I'd shot; it was Angel, the sweet waitress of the Drillin', and I was Dorothy Duncan, the girl who had shot Douglas. Recognition was hitting us both as we let our eyes slide down to the closed casket and the same flashback played behind.

However, when my gaze lifted again, she'd already disappeared in the crowd, leaving me with just the memories of her wide, helpless eyes as I'd pulled the trigger, and the fallen white rose, blending with mine and those of everyone around.

The last few minutes of the ceremony went uneventfully in comparison with the rest, and I realized I'd done one of the hardest things as I passed the cemetery gate and heaved out a tired breath. Well, there was still the after-ceremony at the Thorntons', and if so far, I'd managed to avoid any member of Douglas's family, I doubted it would be possible with my mom's close watch and my dad's business sense.

I didn't know how I would survive it when I was already crushed and worn out after one hour, dragging my feet on the gravelly path. But a glimmer of hope appeared on the other side of the road with a puff of smoke and an unmistakable silhouette, and my feet skipped their pace to cross the street.

"Blade?" I wrapped my arms around his waist, without caring about my parents seeing us just a few meters behind, nor about anyone around actually, as I was burying my head into his chest and letting his arms hold a part of my weight.

"I thought you had a job away from town?" I tilted my head to look up into his eyes and find out if he was here for another reason than because I'd wished it.

I was pretty sure he'd told me that he couldn't be here as it had been just this morning, before he'd sneaked out of my room, and I'd almost begged him to take me with him to avoid the funeral.

"I have, but it can wait a little." He shrugged, using the movement to pull me closer into his chest. "I wanted to see how you're coping."

I guessed the remaining tremors in my hands and the look in my eyes were saying it all, but I closed them, focusing on the mindless shapes he was drawing in my lower back and the air I breathed in filled with tobacco and wood.

"I'm fine... now."

I could feel his gaze all over my freckles as he seemed to ponder my answer, and when I reopened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of that right dimple. 

"I think I can stay a little bit more. What do you wanna do?"

So he was really there for my wish, finally.

This time, I didn't hesitate as the whole ceremony flashed before my eyes.

"Make me forg–" Forget – no, there was something in all those flashbacks that I couldn't forget, and when my gaze trailed back to the cemetery and caught a silhouette away from the crowd, I knew I had to face it; it was one of the only things I could and I had to face.

"Give me three minutes, and then make me forget?"

I took the tilt of his head for a 'yes', and before he could ask a question or pin me with his piercing gaze, I pulled away from his arms and rushed back towards the metal gate. My steps were still heavy, maybe even more as there was another pair of eyes I had to be careful of, yet I was driven by my guts and the strong beats of my heart.

I had to get this off my chest.

So walking in a zigzag line, I avoided my parents, turned to the left side where I recognized some of my friends, and just when I arrived near the brown curls of Spencer, I took the turn behind the aisle of trees that separated the cemetery in two.

Instantly, I glanced around to make sure no one could see, but the trees and shadows were thick enough to shelter this part of the cemetery, and my stomach twisted with the reason why it had been arranged this way. Though it wasn't the time, and I already had enough knots to untangle as I searched for the figure I'd followed.

She was here, kneeling by a small grave a few feet away and arranging some flowers in front, just like anyone would have in a cemetery, while I did the contrary, my steps becoming more drawling on the gravel and the sound of my throat clearing echoing in the secluded area to make sure my presence was known.

I didn't want to scare her more, and even less bring her back those dreadful shivers of being cornered, and only once she threw a glance over her shoulder, did I really approach her.

If she hadn't run away, it was a good sign, though I didn't know what to make of the way she kept her gaze down on the flowers she was placing. I noticed she was putting on and off the same yellow chrysanthemum in a bouquet, exactly like I was twisting my fingers as I took the deepest breath I'd ever had to let out this one syllable.

"Why?"

It was just a cracking whisper, yet it had the same effect as a gunshot inside my chest. Like when I'd pulled the trigger, I couldn't turn back now, although this time, Angel moved, snapping her head towards me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She glanced from left to right, and if at first, she convinced me, I quickly realized she was making sure we were alone before she focused her gaze on me, and between the mark on her cheek and the intent look in her eyes, there was no doubt left.

She knew. She had known since the moment Douglas had fallen dead on the ground. She had never passed out; she'd pretended, like she was pretending as she went back to arrange the bouquet in her hands, and I was still standing here, twisting my thumbs.

It wasn't the answer I'd expected – was it even an answer? Maybe it was, as my chest deflated with a breath, and anyway, I couldn't stay more. My three minutes must have been long gone, and I risked being seen.

Yet as I took my first step, something was still holding me back.

"Thank you." I stopped by her side, though as she was still kneeling on the ground, anyone around would have believed I was talking to myself. "I don't know why... but I know you're risking a lot by protecting me and–"

"Don't thank me." She stood up suddenly, making me stagger at her height.

She had looked so frail behind Douglas's figure that I'd forgotten she was a few inches taller than me, and she was far from weak. The cracks on her hands were proof of it, like the fact she'd come at this ceremony – even if she probably hadn't had a choice – and mostly, it was the glistening dark shades in her eyes that proved how strong she was.

"You saved me. I owe you forever for what you've done and risked for me, and I'll never tell on you."

I didn't know this girl, but she sounded a lot like someone who always kept their words, and as she kept holding my gaze, her whispered promise found a solemn echo in this place. "I'll take your secret to my grave."

The finality of this secret fell in the silence, and I didn't know what to reply, except... 'thank you' again. It was still the words because more than keeping my secret, she was helping me too, and the burden that had grown during this funeral had been counter-balanced.

I'd killed Douglas, but I'd also saved her. Of course, Blade and Spencer had already repeated this, yet they weren't fully objective, and Angel had been the only one to witness that moment I'd pulled the trigger, and she wasn't looking at me like a murderer.

I wasn't sure I deserved her thankfulness, but the hope in her eyes reminded me my first intention hadn't been to kill Douglas, and maybe I was just a killer.

That was what I hoped to carry through my nod as I swallowed my thank you, and before I could find any lighter word to end this encounter, the silence was interrupted by a faint crunch of gravel, making us both jump.

"Dorothy?" The familiar voice followed almost instantly, though the micro-second was enough for many freezing scenarios to form in my mind, and I was glad to find Spencer's warm eyes, even if they were dripping worry. "What are you doing here alone?"

I glanced next to me, but Angel had already disappeared, and when Spencer reached me, she was just a silhouette going back to the crowd.

"Um, I needed a few minutes to find some strength to cope." I smiled, looking down at my hands that weren't trembling anymore.

***

*SPENCER'S POV*

Finally home, at least, it was what it was supposed to be as I parked my car past the white fence, in the familiar driveway. I could even glimpse the word we'd repainted last year above the doorbell. Yet my gaze instinctively traveled to the other side of the fence and to the familiar window.

She probably wasn't home, as I'd seen her leave the funeral on Blade's motorcycle, without even a helmet.

I watched my knuckles turn white around the steering wheel on that thought, though I barely even felt it, and I had to get out of this car before I didn't feel my breaths either.

I surely shouldn't have gone to the funeral by car. I hated cars. I hated funerals, and today, I'd just discovered a new fear: cold, merciless, and vicious, like Kenneth Thornton.

Maybe it was better if Dorothy had escaped before the after-ceremony because I was terrified at the idea of this man anywhere near my princess. I just wished it had been with me she'd driven away.

How long had she been with Blade already? One hour? Two hours?

I realized I was still gripping the steering wheel as I looked down at my watch, and I had to make a conscious effort to let it go. My arms were numb until my elbow by the time I stepped out of the car, and only then, did I notice the blue car beside mine.

Was it a good omen or not? I wasn't sure, but that sight didn't bring me the excitement that had used to rush the steps of my younger self, and I was careful to take a few deep breaths, loosening the knot of my tie, and wait for the only marks on my hands to be Dorothy's.

She had gripped my hand so hard that I'd felt the strength with which she was fighting, and her nails had dug into my skin without noticing, though I didn't mind. I was there for her, and I would shed sweat and blood to help her hold on. That was why I fought the cold sweat pearling in my back as I walked past the sheriff's car and towards our front door. Dorothy and Spencer forever.

Yet I feared all of this was bigger than us.

"Dad! You're home?" I called as soon as I opened the door, the quietness meeting me being as unusual as the lock on the door if my dad was home.

However, his keys and suit jacket were hanging by the door, meaning he was here, and for the first time in three days, before eleven. Thus, I didn't have to think much before heading up the stairs and advancing almost blindly towards his office as there was no light on, only the afternoon sun passing through the half-open shutters. I didn't question it though, as I knocked on the ajar door, surely because my mind was set on another question.

"Dad? You're home already? Don't tell me Kenneth Thornton removed you from the affair?"

My dad's light jump made me realize I was a little too rushed: my questions, my entrance, and my breaths, and I tried to slow everything as he shrugged.

"No, I had something to check at home. He's just leading and supervising my work from now on."

"Isn't it weird? I mean, I know they can do everything they want, but still, he's Douglas's brother..." I let my gaze trail nonchalantly around the room, while all my other senses were drawn toward where the answer could lead.

"That's how it is."

Unfair? I wanted to ask, along with many more questions, but I patiently waited, my eyes wandering from the trophies on the shelves to the worn-out leather of the office chair, the pictures on the desk, and... the open safe.

"But speaking of weird..." he continued just as my eyes landed on the gun in his hand, and not just any gun.

I recognized the handle I'd grabbed tightly three nights ago and the muzzle that had been aimed at Douglas, and my heart stopped.

It wasn't where this conversation was supposed to go, and some survival instinct was sending adrenaline in my veins to run away, yet my blood was frozen.

"We got the results from the autopsy today. The bullet is from an old Colt 38, 8 cylinders, exactly like the one your grandpa gave me here."

I fought to not swallow harshly upon those words, nor show any sign of nervousness. I knew how it worked, and his voice was too calm, his eyebrows too creased, and his gaze too observative. I had the sheriff in front of me.

"And weirdly, one of my bullets is missing."

Damn, of course, my dad always kept count of his bullets. I should have thought of it. My dad was always careful and meticulous when it came to his work. He was the best sheriff.

But I could too. He had trained me for this, after all, teaching me all the must-haves to become a skilled policeman like his dad had done it for him before. The 'transmission of the revolving light' as they called it, and it was the first time I appreciated it.

I knew every detail they picked up and which technique they used to throw the one in front of them off balance, and that was what I did as I kept my voice even too and set my eyebrows into a confused frown to unsettle the sheriff... and my dad.

"Are you sure? There are lots of guns like this model. How could this even be possible?" I pretended to think out loud while my mind was going blank, or more exactly, red like the blood I'd seen on Douglas's shirt. "Do you think someone stole it?"

"No, that's impossible. It was in my safe, and no one could guess the code is the dates of our first family trip."

Florida, 07.26.49-08.03.49.

"Except me... and you."

Okay, he was a better policeman than I could ever be. He was smarter, more observing, and more assertive, though as a dad, I couldn't say the same, and his words were cutting deep.

I didn't even try to hide the bitterness in my tone. "Are you accusing me?"

"No." He shook his head, his gaze not leaving me and seeing through me as a sheriff and a dad. "The autopsy revealed another thing. The bullet came from an angle down, so a person no taller than 5'2." He took a too long inhale of air, which made me realize I wasn't breathing anymore. "And I know a small girl just next door who can shoot better than most gangsters of the East side."

As much as I was fighting to not let show any sign, I couldn't control the drop of my heart in that instant and all the blood it carried down in its fall.

"So what? You're going to report Dorothy?" I let her name come out of my lips in an empty breath, and it crashed so heavily into the room that it made him flinch. But after all, he could be confronted with just a thousandth of what I was feeling.

It was Dorothy, DD, my girlfriend, my best friend for as long as I remembered, the girl he'd watched grow with me and loved like a daughter, the one he even liked to call his future daughter-in-law when we were alone.

"Just because she's a petite girl who knows how to shoot better than men, she's guilty?" I jerked my head, looking anywhere but at my father, only to find all those walls around, closing off on my chest, on Dorothy, as everyone tried to put us into boxes.

That was one of the things I loved the most about Dorothy: the way she could put all the men to shame, and she was doing it so sweetly. Her boldness and free spirit were precious, and I'd seen her belittling who she was to fit in too many times. So my dad trying to put her between the four walls of a cell was too much.

Claustrophobic feelings were already invading my chest.

"No, of course not. I wasn't there, and I would never accuse anyone without knowing." His lips pinched into a line, straight like his uprightness, and it only made mine twist. "But something tells me you do know more than you let out."

Why did it feel more nerve-wracking than Sunday night? There was no flashing blue light, no siren, no frightening shadows, yet the family pictures around and the silence were making it harder to find my words. 

"I do." I inhaled a deep breath filled with the too-familiar citrus smell. "I know the Thorntons are crooks, and Douglas was a sexual predator, and many people wished for his death, including you." This time, I held his gaze without flinching, without moving even a finger as I was telling the truth and only the truth, and it was him who broke the stare as he ran a hand over his face.

"No matter who he was, he's dead now, and it's a homicide, a crime severely punished by the law of our state. You don't know what you're risking by even holding information from the police." His voice was lower than I'd ever heard, yet it made me take a step back, and he saw it as he tentatively reached forward. "Spencer... I'm just worrying for you."

"No, you're not. You're asking me to denounce the love of my life."

Never ever had I noticed this room was so narrow yet so long as my gaze took in the man that was supposed to be my father, sliding from his funeral suit that I knew too well to the shadowed brown eyes, exactly like mine, and passing by his hands held out in the air.

He'd put away the gun, probably fearing that I could 'steal' the murder weapon, although I hadn't even noticed.

"It's the law, Spencer."

It was really my father, indeed, and the one I didn't recognize was myself as a bitter chuckle bubbled up my throat.

"Of course, your precious law! It's always the law before everything else, before me, before... mom."

Words were a powerful weapon; they were my weapon. I didn't need guns, knives, or police tactics to aim right, and I'd taken down his sheriff shield with just one word. All that was left was the pain bleeding on his features, the same that was numbing all my insides until my chest.

I needed to get out of here.

"Leave your mom out of this."

"Why? You wanted the truth and all the truth?! Here it is!" I turned away, my voice rising, though the power coming from my chest wasn't my breath as I didn't taste any oxygen. "And I'll never be like you. I'd rather end up in jail than abandon the one I love!"

My words were my weapon, and I'd knocked him out as the next sound was the bang of a door slamming shut. It was so strong that even the walls vibrated with it, and the sensations came back into my body to let me take in that I wasn't in my dad's office anymore.

The walls were now teal, and there was no safe, no confidential files, no weapon, just a record player, too many papers, and pens on the desk. I was in my bedroom and alone. I could let out the tears, the frustration, the stammering breaths, the groans, everything that was searing and tearing inside.

There was no one to judge or accuse. Though I wasn't alone, and I quickly felt that gaze stronger than any sensation burning through my body.

Whose gaze is it? 👀

I know it's another cliffhanger 🙈 but there's already a lot to take in with this chapter! What do you think? 🤔

Whose heart is breaking for Spencer? 🥺 I know he isn't popular with everyone, but he truly loves Dorothy, and he's fighting the best he can for her. Do you think he's doing the right thing?

Also, the best sheriff is already on the track to find the culprit, and trouble is coming... 😬 We got a Douglas's clone, but in scarier 🙈

Finally, your thoughts on Angel? We finally found out who the mysterious girl was! Did you expect this? 🤔

Let me know all your thoughts in the comments and vote ⭐ if you liked this chapter!! I love to see you spamming my notifs!! 🤩 

Love you my little shooting stars 😘🌠