l felt a cold, horrible feeling, like the air itself had been sucked out of the world. I stared at the ground where the reality of what l did crashed into me and it was massive and ugly, that my brain refused to accept it.
The person lying there was not Kyle.
He was large and his body twisted on the dirt. There was so much blood. It was everywhere thick, dark, staining the dust. It was coming from his ears, his nose, spreading out around his head. And there was a terrible, deep gash across his stomach, bleeding out faster than I could even look at it.
My eyes followed the line of his shoulder, up to his neck, and then to his face.
The world stopped spinning.
It was Sanders. Astor’s father. My father-in-law.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no, no.”
I looked at my own hands. They wer
