If You Wrong Us

by Dawn Klehr

  Travis stretches his arms and the sinews and veins bulge from his lean limbs. Then he stretches his legs. His toes point up in a pair of gray sneakers.

  He must be dreaming still, because his head starts to shake in a violent rotation. He blows out a gust of air and his bangs flutter. Mom used to do the same thing after working in the garden. The thought makes me remember why we’re here.

  Travis continues to thrash until he opens his eyes.

  “What … ” He coughs. “What’s going on?”

  He whimpers, like truly whimpers, when he spots his brother. It’s hard to watch even though I detest the guy. His eyes dart across the room: to Ethan, Becca, Ethan, me, Ethan. He’s putting it all together.

  He drops his head and clears his throat. “There’s no gamer, is there?”

  His bottom lip trembles.

  Becca slowly shakes her head.

  41

  Becca

  Travis had the cab drop him off by the ditch, as we’d discussed. Good little puppet. Johnny waited in the parking lot a little way up the hill. I had to play this very carefully because emotions were running wild.

  That’s why I had the back-ups. New pawns I could use if I had to.

  “Can you help me?” Travis asked when I made my way to him on the side of the road. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy; he’d been up for twenty-four hours. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you so much right now.”

  “Yes, of course,” I told him, stuffing my hand into my pocket.

  He reached out to hug me, and I was hyper alert. He could’ve had his own plans; he could’ve known what was in my hand.

  I was cautious as I moved in and gave him a one-armed squeeze.

  “I so sorry, Trav.” I kept my hand wrapped around the syringe and out of sight.

  Then, when he turned his back, I stuck the needle deep into his neck.

  Welcome to Hush

  Responsible:

  It’s not that I hate women.

  That’s not it at all.

  I just hate women who are bitches. Women who think they’re better than me.

  Yes, Freud, my mother left when I was young.

  Yes, it’s true that my old girlfriend got hurt because of my temper.

  And yes, I’d rather play video games where I have control than live in the real world. Except when I was with my new love. She wasn’t like the others. She treated me like I was the special one.

  Until her sister threatened all that. The one girl who had put me back together after the others tore me apart. Damn right I wasn’t going to taking it lying down. I threatened her, scared her away.

  I didn’t set out to kill her, but in the heat of the moment, yeah, I think I wanted her dead.

  42

  Johnny

  Ethan hasn’t woken up, and I have the nagging feeling it’s been way too long. The gun in my waistband is making me itchy.

  “Okay.” Travis trembles, looking over Ethan. “I’m here. Now let him go.”

  “Why do you think you’re making the rules?” Becca asks. “You’re here because I made it so.”

  “He’s sick,” Travis screams. “He has asthma. Whatever you gave him could kill him, Becca. Please. I’m here. I’ll do whatever you ask, just let him go.”

  Becca doesn’t even react to the asthma comment. It’s clear that this isn’t new information to her—people like Becca don’t miss something this big. This type of mistake doesn’t happen by chance. She knew about the asthma, which means it was part of the plan.

  Ethan is going to die.

  So my plan—Shovel, Girl, Gun—has to change.

  Ethan has now popped to the top of my list. I have to save him.

  I’m the only person who can.

  Welcome to Hush

  Responsible:

  “I know who you are, bitch,” I told her when she started making all those demands.

  It might have ended there if she’d just let it go.

  But she couldn’t drop it.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, trying to look all indignant like her sister.

  “Your sister told me you were coming. She told me all about your little plan to break us up.”

  Betrayal flashed across her face.

  She’d been betrayed by her own sister.

  Man, how I loved it.

  43

  Johnny

  I go over my list. What I need to do before I bail out of this shithole. I have to focus to make it work.

  Ethan

  Girl

  Gun

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Becca asks Travis, completely ignoring Ethan.

  “No, no I don’t,” Travis says. His eyes dart back and forth from his brother to Becca.

  Ethan

  Girl

  Gun

  “Becca, look at Ethan,” Travis pleads. “He’s in bad shape. He needs a doctor.”

  “Hmm,” she says, playing with her gloved fingers. “Like my sister needed a doctor?”

  Travis’s face gets all pinched.

  “Johnny knows.” Becca grins. “And soon he’s going to know a lot more.”

  What the fuck is going on now? I’m not sure how much more I can take.

  “I know you have some crazy idea going through your head,” Travis says, pulling on his restraints. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s what you’re going to go with?” Becca asks, picking up her school bag. “You sure about that … Responsible?”

  Travis’s face pales and he swallows. Once. Twice. Three times.

  “Dude.” He looks to me now—desperate to be heard.

  I pace the room, growing more confused, irritated, and downright panicked.

  “She’s lost it,” Travis says to me, avoiding Becca’s glare. “That’s how she is. Let me and my brother go and I swear I never saw you, man. You can just get up and go.”

  Becca pulls out a stack of papers and walks over to me.

  “What’s that?” I ask in spite of myself. I have to know more about this latest development. It’s too late to walk away.

  “This?” Becca says, holding up the papers. “What don’t you tell us, Travis?”

  Welcome to Hush

  Responsible:

  After our confrontation, she took off in her car.

  I followed.

  Yes, I was trying to run her off the road. She was panicked and driving erratic.

  I liked that.

  I liked making her squirm.

  Who’s in charge now, bitch?

  It was a fun game. I’d increase my speed, come up alongside the car, and start edging her to the center line. The tiny rocks from the shoddy road were pinging off her fender.

  We were approaching the hill and I was thinking, this is going to be fun.

  Until another car was coming toward us.

  Then I edged her one last time.

  44

  Johnny

  I listen to Becca, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. I know she’s trying to tell me something—something important about the papers. But at the same time, I catch Ethan out of the corner of my eye.

  That’s when the kid moves. His nose twitches and his lips pucker, like he might be awake. Then nothing.

  “This is Travis’s confession on Hush,” Becca says. “He admits to everything. Causing the accident. Leaving the scene.”

  “If you have all of this, why didn’t you just go to the police?” I ask, furious that we could’ve avoided this fuck-up. “Why did we have to do all of this?”

  “It’s not that simple,” she says, her fingers stroking the paper. “He didn’t use his own computer to write this, so there’s no address. The site is designed to keep
users anonymous.”

  “You know what?” I say, ready to make my move. I can’t wait any longer. I pull the gun from my waistband and point it at Becca. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This is done. I’m done.”

  “Wait, wait,” she says. “There’s more, Johnny. So much more.”

  45

  Becca

  Johnny was turning on me, I could see it. It had happened gradually, but at that point he was in full-fledge desertion mode. Ready to throw me to the enemy at any time.

  Of course, I knew about Ethan’s asthma, and the drugs did pose a problem for him. But it wasn’t like he was making his way out of here anytime soon. That was kind of the whole point. I mean, how could you make a monster like Travis Kent pay? Simple. You take away the person closest to him—the only person he’s ever really cared about. Like he took Brit from me. Like he took Johnny’s mom.

  I found Travis’s confession on Hush months ago. I knew he’d have to brag about it to someone. It must’ve killed him to remain anonymous. It was all right there, but I couldn’t share it with Johnny. Not yet. Information like that had to be revealed carefully. Finally, it was time.

  Once Johnny found out, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He was explosive, ready to blow at any minute.

  All I had to do was light the match.

  “Go ahead, Travis,” I said. “Tell Johnny what these papers say. Tell him what you did to our families.”

  Travis didn’t move a muscle.

  “You tell him,” I said, “or I will.”

  Welcome to Hush

  Responsible:

  The crash was quick and brutal.

  Metal scraping, tires squealing, glass breaking.

  Then nothing. Smoke and quiet.

  I pulled my truck past the two cars on the side of the road. I got out and ran back. That part was instinct. So was the next, I guess.

  First, I went to the girl. She didn’t move. I was sure she was dead. I’d later find out she wasn’t, but it took a while for that to happen.

  Then I went and looked at the other car. The woman.

  She was still alive.

  “Help,” she said in a gurgly voice. Blood coming up her throat and spilling out of the sides of her mouth.

  That’s when I should’ve called. I should’ve done something.

  But I didn’t.

  I just stood there and stared at the woman.

  “Tell my family,” she gurgled again. “Tell them I love them.”

  She sat there, trapped in her seat, trying to regulate her breathing.

  Fighting for her life.

  I made a point to nod at her request … before getting into my car and driving away.

  46

  Becca

  Johnny still had the gun pointed toward me, but I knew he wouldn’t shoot. This was part of his escape plan. Well, I’m sorry, but that was not going to happen. Not after we’d come this far.

  Travis hadn’t made any move to tell us about Hush, so I read his confessional. I read about the way he deliberately drove Brit into a head-on crash and left Johnny’s mom to die.

  “He was there when she died,” I said to Johnny. “He was there.”

  Then I waited for it to register.

  47

  Johnny

  He was there,” Becca says again. “He could’ve saved her. Your mom didn’t have to die.”

  “No,” I yell. “No.”

  My brain is racing, so I start pacing to keep up. Things are getting slippery again. Everything is jumbled, coming into my head out of order. Yet everything is moving so fast I can’t organize it.

  Brit.

  Dead … blood … gurgling … family.

  Goodbye … Mom … love … left.

  Truck. Gurgle. Blood.

  Save. Save. Save.

  “You do what you need to do,” I hear Becca say softly. “Nobody would blame you if you took Ethan. If you paid Travis back. We deserve justice. We all deserve it.”

  “Stop,” I say. “Just stop.”

  Ethan begins to fade from my thoughts as my back-up plan changes again. Saving him is no longer my top priority. The gun in my hand changes course—moving from Becca toward Travis.

  The war begins: rage verses devastation.

  I can’t bear to think of Mom’s final minutes. I can’t handle knowing she suffered; she knew she was going to die. She saw Travis walk away from her.

  Rage begins to win this battle.

  I can’t think around it.

  I move closer to the scumbag.

  A muffled cry comes from Travis. From his filthy mouth. Teardrops fall down his face and all I can think about is ripping him apart. And showing him. Showing him why it mattered that he left the scene. Making him understand exactly what he did.

  Becca closes in on me—her tiger-and-prey move. She rests both hands on my arms, stroking them. Speaking in an almost soothing voice. Full of emotion. Her eyes dancing.

  “No,” Becca says. “Not Travis. You need to make him suffer. Hurting him will only make things easier. Put him in pain like he put us in pain. Point the gun at Ethan. Please, Johnny. For me.”

  Too much noise.

  “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

  My finger shakes on the trigger.

  “You can do it,” Becca says. “Yes, it’s a perfectly logical response. It is justified. It evens things out. I would understand. And I’ll support you. Whatever you need.”

  “Okay then,” I spit, feeling my body heat with rage. Murderous rage. I’m discovering there is such a thing. “It’s settled.”

  I move the gun once again.

  48

  Becca

  I wanted him to do it. I needed him to do it.

  I just had to play the game a little longer.

  Though Ethan was my pawn, he was Travis’s king. We had captured the king.

  Checkmate.

  It wasn’t enough. We had to finish this.

  “Pull the trigger,” I said. I said it over and over.

  Over Johnny’s screams and Travis’s cries.

  “Ethan is still out. He won’t even see it coming,” I said. “It’ll be peaceful. Not at all like what Travis did to our families.”

  Pull. The. Trigger.

  The Elements of a Crime:

  Crime and Punishment

  For every crime, there must be a punishment. At least in any civilized society, am I right? In the U.S., justifications for punishment falls into two categories:

  Retributive: claims that punishment is justified because the criminal deserves it.

  Utilitarian: claims that punishment is useful.

  The useful purposes of punishment are: prevention, rehabilitation, and incapacitation.

  Then there are the six theories of criminal justice based on the following goals:

  Retribution: Eye for an eye. Fan favorite.

  General Deterrence: Punish the offender in order to send a message to the general population. (Done all the time in school.)

  Specific Deterrence: Punish the offender so they will not do the same thing again.

  Rehabilitation: Incarcerate the offender to treat them, so they won’t do anything like this again. For their own good.

  Restraint/Incapacitation: Incarcerate dangerous offenders to get them off the street and separate them from society; prevent future harm by these people. For our own good.

  Public Education: Communicate what values are important to society by determining what we punish.

  Can you hear me up here on this pedestal?

  Becca would say I was a good candidate for all of these. In the end, however, she didn’t think legal punishment was enough. She had a better way to make me suffer.

  I knew I deserved it.

  I deserved
to be punished for a lot of things.

  But Ethan didn’t.

  He was just a kid who was always getting messed up in things. In the wrong place at the wrong damn time. I would take the fall for him. I’d do anything.

  Becca, though, she wanted his blood on my hands. Like Brit’s blood was on hers.

  What she didn’t know—what the two of them will never know—was that it was Ethan’s idea to go after Brit.

  After her little scene, Brit stormed off. Ethan heard the entire exchange and just looked at me in disbelief. People didn’t talk to me that way, and despite the fact that Ethan had never even liked Becca (he never liked anyone who got too close to me), he didn’t like people telling me what to do.

  We made our own rules.

  I’d taught him that.

  “You can’t let her go, Johnny,” he said. “Not after what she tried to do.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Then I thought about my next move.

  Turns out, I didn’t have to.

  Ethan had already made the decision for me. He followed her.

  He wanted to teach her a lesson.

  Becca and Johnny can’t find out about that.

  Ethan has a long line of offenses—most in my honor. The rumors about me? They’re mostly true. But it was Ethan who got me into the messes. Like the time he beat up on my ex-girlfriend because she cheated on me. Ethan heard her confession when she came out to the house. He just went ape shit on her.

  He was dangerous. Still, I couldn’t fault him for it, so I covered for him. He’s been screwed with his whole life. I’ve been his only protection, and I wasn’t about to stop. I told him I’d handle it.

  And I did.

  Too bad I got to the scene of the accident too late.

  Brit, she deserved what happened. But I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I really wanted to help Johnny’s mom, but I couldn’t risk staying or calling it in. Ethan could be taken from us.