Recoil hit me hard right before I flung the now empty rifle to the side. The barrel was still smoking as I stepped past it, catching the other man with my outstretched right hand as he fell. Blood trickled down his chin as he looked up at me, eyes wide. His lips were turning blue with shock. I screwed my face up in disgust.

Well, what did I expect? Shoot a guy’s knees out at point blank range and he was bound to go into shock. I wanted to laugh. It was the blue color of the man’s lips that disgusted me, not his mangled leg.

“I-I already told y-you guys—” he started.

I cut him off. “And I told you that I want answers.”

It was pointless, I knew. The man had already told some of the other guys that he hadn’t been involved in the murder. His DNA had even been tested by the law. They had suspected him too. But that didn’t change anything. He hadn’t done anything to stop the murderer from killing my brother. And for that, he had to die. There was just no other option.

B. Valdez 1.16.14



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