Tucker:

This is the first time that I’ve felt “homeless” since my accident. The first time I’ve felt completely alone in the world.

I mean, the guys on the mountain took me in from day one, made me feel like I had a family. Even though I didn’t feel like I had much purpose in my life, I at least had people I liked being around.

Then I found Molly and everything changed for the better. She took me in to her life, she made me feel whole, she made me feel like I had finally found my place in the world, and finding out that all of that was some big fat lie for some sort of publicity stunt has me pissed.

I run through the woods, up to our campsite, and the exertion feels so good. My lungs are burning, the muscles in my legs are throbbing, but my mind is completely empty. I feel my toes catching on the roots and rocks of the trail, but I don’t care. Passing out from exhaustion might be the best possible thing that could happen to me.

I guess my next move is to go back to the campsite and pretend like nothing happened. Try and forget my most recent history as I try and suppress my past. Become exactly what Molly thinks I am, according to her article: just another dirty vagrant mountain man who takes whatever he wants and doesn’t care about anyone but himself and his gang.

It’s getting dark but the full moon overhead is keeping the trail lit below my feet. I make it to camp in record time and am relieved to hear the familiar sound of laughter around the campfire.

“Well look who the hell it is!” I hear Moss’s voice boom. “Did the old lady finally throw you out?”

“Something like that,” I say, grabbing the jar of moonshine from his hand and taking a long pull. I’m thirsty from my run, and the burning sensation goes right to my head.

“Good for you, bro,” Moss says. “I, too, am newly single.”

“Luna dump you?” I ask him.

Forrest is giggling, obviously drunk. “We dumped her,” he says. “Over the side of the quarry.”

“We gotta move tomorrow. Start our annual trek. Figure out what we’re going to do this winter,” Moss says, like it’s the most natural thing. I’m still reeling over what Forrest just suggested.

“She’s dead?” I stutter. It’s not like I was particularly fond of the girl, but I’d never go so far as to murder her.

Or anyone, for that matter.

My skin is crawling, watching everyone just sitting around the fire goofing around, laughing like nothing new. I notice the blood on Moss’s hands for the first time, the blood on his face, the sight of it making me queasy.

“I’m going to bed,” I say. “Long day.”

“Hey,” Moss says, putting his arm around my shoulder. I shudder at his touch, not wanting to think about what those hands just did. “Are you ok? Are we good?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug.

“I’d hate to think you were going to run back to your little nark girlfriend and run your mouth about anything. Brothers don’t do that to each other.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” I say. I know I’m at a low point in my life where spending my time with a bunch of murderers sounds more appealing than trying to hear Molly justify the way she used me. “I’m back for good.”

He pulls Molly’s handgun from his pocket and dramatically spins it around on his finger. “This thing is pretty nice. Not a lot of kick, easy to aim, pretty quiet.”

“Goodnight, Moss,” I say, turning and heading down the trail, knowing he won’t shoot me in the back. He’s too vain. He’d want to see the look on my face as I fell to the ground, bleeding and dying in front of him.

“Goodnight, Jesse,” he calls back after me.

The words sting.

I try to ignore him.

I pretend like I don’t hear him.

He can call me whatever he wants, as long as I can keep living this facade.