Prologue

Present Day

Asher sat next to his mother’s bed on the floor and listened to the sounds of the ambulance approaching. He had alerted the nurse that his mother was gone and he had called them. Then, he had gone back to his place on the floor and slid his hand back into her frail cold one and held it. He didn’t want her to be alone––not even for a second.

He heard the door slam downstairs before the ambulance was close enough and the sound of heavy feet on the stairs. He braced himself. His father came flying through the door. He looked at Asher with wide eyes. “What did you do?” Asher didn’t answer him. His father came closer and looked down at his wife. His body was suddenly wracked with huge, guffawing sobs. He got between his wife and his son and shoved Asher away from her. Asher could hear the ambulance stopping out front. He didn’t fight his dad. He left the room and left his father to say good-by to his wife. Asher had already said good-bye to his mother––right before he had killed her.

Asher sat in the study downstairs and watched as the paramedics were led up by the nurse. He could hear his dad still crying. A little while later he watched as his mother’s body was brought down on the stretcher and she was wheeled out the door forever. He looked up then at the sinister face of his father. The nurse had left with the ambulance and they were alone. Asher was prepared for his father’s wrath––or at least he thought he was.

“You killed your own mother.” He didn’t raise his voice. He just said it, like it was a fact. He said it like Asher had taken a gun and pressed it to her temple and pulled the trigger. He said it like she hadn’t just suffered with cancer for a year and begged someone to do it. Asher didn’t say anything. He watched his dad walk over to the bar. His father stood there for several seconds and then without warning he swung one large arm and swept all the glass off the top of it, sending bottles and glasses flying, shattering into the walls and floors. “You killed your own fucking mother!” he screamed. Asher still didn’t say anything. His father turned towards him and said, “I want you out of here. I don’t want to see you again. You will have to live with what you did forever––but not here. You are no longer my family. You killed your own mother, my wife and you knew how I felt about it. I want you out! Now! If I see you again, I might be tempted to tell the police what you did.”

Asher wasn’t surprised that his father was angry––but he was shocked that he would threaten to call the police on him. He still didn’t say anything though. He was afraid of what he would say or do if he did. He picked up his keys and as his dad shuffled through the bottles on the floor to find one that still held liquor, Asher walked out the front door.

He sat in his car for a long time trying to decide what to do and where to go. He wanted Mia. She made everything better. He was afraid if he saw her right now though he would confess to what he had done. What would she think of him if she knew what he had done? He started the car and drove towards Dean’s house. He was in town this weekend. Maybe Asher would just get drunk and stay drunk for a couple of days. It seemed to work for his father.

When he got to Dean’s house he found Travis there. As soon as Travis opened the door and saw Asher’s face he said, “Oh fuck.––” Asher nodded and pushed his way through the door.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He had to head back.” Dean Kentworth was Asher and Travis’s best friend. He had graduated last year, but he had only gone a town away for college so he would come back to town to hang out with Asher and Travis on the weekends when he could. He kept his apartment in town and stayed in the dorms when school was in session. Travis and Asher both had keys to it. “Stacey just left and I was going to take off. I can stay, if you want me to.”

Asher went into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. He tossed one to Travis and twisted the cap off his. He put it to his lips and chugged it. He wasn’t usually a drinker and he didn’t even really like the taste of it––so he put it away fast. Travis sat down at the table and drank his, watching his friend with wary eyes as he downed two or three to each one Travis drank. Asher didn’t talk about his mother, but he could tell by Travis’s demeanour that he had figured out she was gone. He didn’t want to talk about it yet––he couldn’t. He just finished killing her.

He wasn’t sure how many beers later it was, but Dean’s refrigerator ran dry. He looked at Travis who had four or five bottles sitting in front of him and said, “I gotta go.”

He stood up and teetered sideways on his feet, catching himself with his arm against the table. Travis stood up too. “You can’t drive man. You had like…” Travis looked like he was thinking and then he finally said, “Way too fucking many beers.”

“I need some air,” Asher said. He stepped out through the front door and Travis followed him.

“Give me the keys.” he said. “I’ll drive.”

Asher was too drunk to question his friend’s sobriety. He handed him the keys to his Mustang and they both got in the car.––That was the last thing he remembered until he woke up to the sounds of sirens blasting and the face of a person he didn’t know looming over him.

“Hey buddy! Can you hear me?” Asher tried to nod but realized he was strapped down onto something. For a second he panicked and tried to break loose. “It’s okay, that’s for your safety. You were in an accident; you have a head injury, you need to stay still okay? Blink if you can hear me.”

An accident? Asher’s head hurt.––His brain hurt. I had an accident? Where? Where am I? He reached back as far into his memory as he could. He felt a prick in his arm and realized the person who loomed over him was starting an IV.––Oh fuck! He remembered now. His mother was dead––and he had killed her.

The image of his father throwing him out of the house popped into his head. He remembered leaving the house and driving––somewhere. Oh God! Did he go see Mia? His chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe. They were still talking to him but the man’s voice sounded robotic and far away to him as they lifted the gurney and loaded him into the back of the ambulance. From the elevated vantage point he could see the Mustang and it all suddenly came flooding back. Travis had been with him. He had been driving.––He had taken the corner too sharp and they had spun out of control. They had been headed for the tree.––Oh fuck! “M-my fr-friend?” He managed to get out. Why can’t I talk?

The EMT said, “Just relax okay buddy? What’s your name?”

My friend’s name is Travis. Why are you ignoring the question? That’s what he wanted to say, but all of that wouldn’t come out. His head was so jumbled. “My friend! In the car.––Travis…” In a move reminiscent of the one he had just made at home with his mother, the EMT filled a syringe and stuck it into his IV. The last thing he heard him say was, “Relax buddy; we’ll be at the hospital soon.”