Part III:

Standing at his father and brother's grave, Derek felt as if his heart would succumb with grief. It beat with an extraordinary pace when his hands reached out to touch the dual headstone and tears spilled down his cheeks. How many times had he been here? How many times had he shed these tears and felt this grief?

How many times would he ask the cold stone for forgiveness... knowing he would receive none...

I stood across the street from the diner and waited. It was nearly three-thirty in the afternoon and Daisy hadn't started her shift yet. Standing there, I wondered what would happen. I was certain things would not go the way I intended. Nothing was ever that simple. We wouldn't hold hands and talk. She might not even want to hear what I have to say. At any rate, I had to say it. I had to ask for forgiveness... even if she denied me.

A few minutes later, I saw Daisy turn the corner and head towards the diner. Now or never, I told myself and jogged across the street to meet her.

My heart was in my chest as I reached out to touch her. "Daisy?"

She recoiled instantly. Recognizing me just as she'd done yesterday had wiped the light from her eyes. "What do you want?" she asked and tried to move around me to get into the door.

I stepped out of her way, showing I meant her no harm or disrespect. "I just want to talk."

Her eyebrow raised in a skeptical fashion. At least she acknowledged me, I told myself. That was far more than I deserved. "Talk?" she asked, her voice somewhere between disbelief and disdain. "What could you possibly have to say to me that you think I want to hear?"

She seemed genuinely intrigued despite the sarcasm and I again had to hide my little smirk. I started to tell her but before I could get any words out, I was being dropped to the ground with my hands being held behind my back in excruciating pain.

"What the fuck are you doing, eh?" the man who had me pinned to the ground asked. "Is this guy bothering you, Dais? I've seen him around here a lot and he's always staring at you. This the one who upset you yesterday?"

"It's alright, Hector," Daisy told him. His big, fat knee in my back was adding more pain but I didn't cry out. Any movement on my part at all could probably get me hurt or thrown back in jail. "Let him go."

Hector did as Daisy asked and let me go. I stood up and dusted myself off, slyly looking at the behemoth that had ambushed me. He had at least a hundred pounds on me and I felt every single one of them. He gave me the dirtiest look and I realized that I knew him. I'd robbed and destroyed his store back when I was a different man. He, obviously, hadn't forgotten me.

"It's okay, Hector," Daisy said to him, obviously trying to get him to relax. For a split second, I thought she might be doing that for my benefit as well.

Hector went back inside after warning me that he was watching and at the first sign of distress he would break my arm in three places. I conceded and said nothing.

Once alone again, Daisy stared at me with those intense green eyes again. She was waiting for me to say my piece. While elated that I was being given the chance, I didn't want to do it out here on the street. She deserved more respect than that.

"Would you feel more comfortable inside?" I asked.

She remained silent, but walked inside. Hector noticed and she nodded to him, keeping him at bay. In fact, everyone behind the counter watched me and even the patrons who'd seen Hector toss me to the ground. Daisy said nothing. Just led me to the back of the diner to a quiet and nearly secluded booth that patrons were not allowed to use. She dropped her coat and purse behind the edge of the counter and sat in the booth. I sat across from her more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life.

"Thank you," I said. "For stopping me from being skinned alive." I let a little smile show, but her expression did not change.

She was silent for a moment before saying, "I stopped Hector from beating you to pulp because, though I can't understand why, I truly do want to hear what you have to say. But more than that, I want to ask you a question. But in no way, was I doing it to be nice."

"Okay," I swallowed hard. "What... question?" I asked stupidly. I already knew the question. It was one I asked myself every single day.

"Why did you kill my brother?"

I sighed sadly... I was right.

"I need to know. I need to know why you killed him."