*Author’s Note: The following triggers are mentioned or show on page in the prologue: suicide attempt, loss of a child, grief, and death. If any of these make you uncomfortable, please skip to chapter one. You don’t need to read the prologue to understand the rest of the story as it’ll be talked about briefly in other parts of the book.
TEN YEARS AGO
Ihaven’t slept in three weeks, not since I buried my daughter, and everyone—including my wife and son—blames me for her death.
Not that I fault them.
I blame myself, too.
Lyla was my little adventurer. At only ten years old, she was eager to do anything with me that involved hiking, horseback riding, biking, climbing, and any type of water sport. As a former bull rider, I loved that about her. Always willing to try something new and had a blast while doing it.
My fourteen-year-old son, Jase, is the complete opposite.
He prefers to stay indoors. After years of trying to get him to go camping and fishing with me, I gave up asking.
Now, he’ll grow up without his little sister because of me.
This pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Its searing grief gnaws at me every second of every day. Memories of that day haunt me to the point of throwing up.
I can’t take it anymore.
As I held my little angel in my arms, covered in blood and lifeless, I begged whatever higher power existed to take me instead.
“Not her!” I screamed. “Take me! I’ll live in hell for eternity if you save her. She’s innocent!”
She was my whole world.
I even resorted to begging any evil force to kill me so I can stop reliving it every time I close my eyes. When that didn’t work, I pleaded for something to happen. Finding relief in getting struck by lightning, a semi crashing into me, or a wild animal eating me alive.
I deserve to suffer because being alive makes my family suffer.
There’s nothing left for me to do but find a way to end it.
I’m hollow, my heart aches nonstop, and there’s no point living in a world where my daughter doesn’t exist. My family hates me so much, they can’t even look at me.
Dark clouds hover above, and rain unleashes around me. The pounding echoes through the cab of my truck as if it knows what my life has become.
I called my childhood friend to meet me here. When headlights appear in front of me, I’m relieved he showed up. It’s almost time.
“What’s goin’ on?” Damien calls out when we both exit our trucks and stand underneath a tree to avoid getting drenched.
“I need a favor,” I call out, reaching behind my back and grabbing my gun.
“The hell’re ya doin’, Fisher? Gimme that.” His eyes narrow in on it as he reaches for it.
“Get yours out,” I tell him.
Damien’s been a cop turned detective since he was twenty-one, so I know he’s packing. If anyone can do this right for me, it’s him.
“What?” He steps closer.
I release the safety, then point the barrel toward him. “I’m threatenin’ your life, so when ya kill me, ya can say it was self-defense.”
“Fisher, what the fuck are ya talkin’ about? Put it down!”
“No! I can’t kill myself, or my family won’t get my life insurance. This way, they’ll get all my benefits.”
“Ya can’t do this,” he begs. “What about Jase? And Mariah? They need you.”
“Trust me, they don’t. They can barely look at me.”
“This isn’t the way, man. Let me get ya some help.”
“I simply cannot exist in a world where my daughter doesn’t.” My voice cracks as a lump forms in my throat. “I’m the reason she’s gone.”
“It was a freak accident!” he repeats words he’s told me dozens of times.
“Doesn’t matter! I shoulda protected her,” I shout. “Please! I need you to end this pain. A life for a life!”
“You need help. Talk to someone. Let me take ya someplace safe. Don’t go down this path.” He inches closer, but I step back.
“She’s not alive, and I shouldn’t be either.”
“I know you’re hurtin’, but this would bring more pain to your family.”
“Trust me, they don’t want me.”
“They’re hurtin’ too, man. Come with me, Fisher. I’ll take ya to a hospital.”
I shake my head fiercely. “If you won’t do it, I’ll find another way. I’ll stand in the middle of the town square with a gun and wait for an officer to shoot me.”
“So they can watch it play over and over on the local news? Goddammit, Fisher! Get in my fuckin’ truck. Please!” He tries to reach for me, but I back away.
“Do it for me now, privately, and no one else risks gettin’ hurt.”
I’m a selfish fuck. I’m putting Damien in the worst possible situation because I know he won’t risk innocent lives.
I raise my gun higher, and he freezes. “Take yours out. Now.”
After a stare down, he finally does.
“In the head, Damien.” I point the barrel to my temple. “Right after I shoot at you, do it. Don’t waste time.”
They’ll test my clothing for gunpowder residue to confirm I shot at him first and he was only firing at me in defense.
His jaw sets. “Fine.”
My heart races as I look my best friend in the eyes. They’re filled with anger and tension. He might hate me for this, but he loves me and my family enough to know they’d need my insurance money to pay off the house and expenses.
“Please tell Mariah to look underneath my seat in the truck. I taped a note there for her and Jase.”
Even though they hate me, I want them to know how much I love them and how sorry I am for ruining their lives by taking Lyla from them.
“This is gonna destroy them, Fisher. Are ya sure?”
I ignore his question and continue with my instructions. “Next, tell Mariah everythin’ she’ll need is in my fireproof safe in the shed. All the insurance and homeowner’s papers. And whatever she does, make sure she burns my letter after reading.”
I can’t risk the police finding it and questioning my death.
Then I aim my gun at something behind him and pull the trigger.
“Fuck,” he hisses when it whizzes past him.
“Do it!” I shout, keeping my gun raised.
Damien shakes his head, points it at me, then shoots.
