As I lit my last cigarette at 3 in the morning, Kevin already asleep next to me, my phone rang.
"Lauren?" I had to press the receiver of the phone into my ear to hear her whisper. "Lauren!" Erin sobbed into the phone, "He did it again. Shawn hit me!"
"I'll be there in a few." And with that I hit 'end'. There was no need for the usual 'when, where, and whys', This was going to be the last time the bastard layed a hand on my sister.
As I pulled myself out of my worn down spot in my bed, taking extra care not to stir the sleeping Adonis next to me; then laughing quietly to myself, realizing that I probably couldn't wake him right now even if I really wanted to. I snuffed out my last cigarette and walked to the tangle of clothes in the center of my bedroom floor. I pulled out what could have been mine, but was probably Kevins jeans. Pulling them on, I pulled a dark grey sweater over my torso and stumbled to the closet.
Why couldn't Shawn beat her in the daytime? Or not at all, as far as preferences go. But for Gods Sake, why did it have to be just as I was dozing off with my last cigarette?
New Apartments are good for one thing, and one thing only: the location of the things you need are still fresh in your mind. I Pulled the chain, and the dim closet light flickered to a steady yellow glow. My black rain slicker and a pair of black rubber mud boots were sitting exactly where I remember putting them. Neglecting to put on socks, I fumbled with the boots. I scrawled a sloppy "Be back Soon" note and set it on my pillow, in case Kevin were to roll over to an empty spot. I slipped out the door without another sound.
The elevator ride down my apartment building gave me time to think over how tonight was going to go. Nothing in my elevator ponderings turned out well for Shawn. It was inevitable, the prick had to go.
As my little black Cavalier pulled up to Erin's house, I could see her sitting on the front steps; her face in her hands. I backed the car into her driveway. I got out of the car and popped the trunk. I slid a large shovel out from under a blanket, and forced my way past Erins, now regretful, pleads to stop. I let myself into her house, and stomped upstairs into her bedroom.
The smell of alcohol saturated the room, and seemed concentrated around the slumped figure of a man, sitting in an armchair across the room. I crossed the floor, and waited a moment. He looked up at me with a glazed over stare. But as soon as he saw the raised shovel in my hands, the horrified look I got was completely sober.
The crack the shovel on cranium made wasn't nearly as loud as what was expected. I made Erin carry his feet as I supported the shoulders, and we half dragged the unconscious body down the stairs and into the kitchen. I grabbed a hand towel to cover his face, keeping the small stream of blood from dripping to the tiles.
"What are we going to do?" Erin whimpered, her lip trembling.
"We aren't going to do anything. Once he's in my trunk I'm leaving, and your not going to know."
"Why not?" Her brow creased into a permanent worry line.
"Because when you report him missing in a day or two, you need to honestly be able to say you don't know where he is or would be. Got it?" She only nodded, and helped me carry him to the car.
As I drove away, I blew my baby sister a kiss. I made it down to the river in no time, and it wasn't at all hard to pull him from the trunk. I found a good rocky area, and pushed him from the highest point, making it look as much like an accident as possible. He tumbled a few times, and let out a groan about halfway down. He hit the water with a splash. I pulled my half-smoked cigarette out of my pocket and lit it.
"You don't mess with my baby sister and get away with it." The best thing about living in the middle of nowhere: there aren't any witnesses. It started to rain, then. Good and hard. Pounding on the windows of my car. I drew my hood tight around my face, and let the rain wash the evidence away. The rocks from the landing on where I had parked had masked my tire tracks, and made it for an easy escape.
Twenty minutes later, and after a quick stop at the corner gas station, just opening, I was sitting in my kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee. A couple of hours passed, and Kevin rolled out of bed at around 7 for breakfast.
Walking into the kitchen he held up my messy note, "Where did you go?"
I pointed to the pack of cigarettes on the table, "I was on my last cigarette." I replied with a smile.