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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #1385982
Flash Fiction for the valentines contest. About loss and love. Quite sad I suppose.
"Come on man! We cant ditch her; it's my sister. Fuck. Fuck! What do we do?"

"Seriously man, we got to get rid of her body, we have to come up with something. I cant go back to jail."

Steve didnt really care about Nate's criminal dilemma. He was torn between the high of the fine grade heroine flowing through his body and the love of his sister. She wasnt even supposed to be home today. She was supposed to be out with the rest of the local girl scouts, raising money by selling chocolate bars and roses for Valentines day. Instead she had somehow found his stash, which was taped under his unsteady computer desk.

"Maybe she's not dead. Did you check her pulse?"

"Yes Nate, you fuckin idiot. I checked again and again."

As he rocked back on his heels, tears of frustration, anger and fear fell from steve's flushed cheeks to the cluttered floor below.

Nate grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face close.

"We are not in this together! You fuckin hear me? This is your house and your dead sister and your fuckin drugs. Im not goin back. Im outta here."

Steve didnt try to stop him as Nate stumbled from the room, obviously high as well as scared and Steve just didnt care. He already knew where the arrows would point when they found the body; He didnt care about that either.

He didn't care about the shoulder he bruised as he slammed into the doorjamb exiting the room. He didn't care about the lock pinching his hand as he opened the small steel box he pulled from his mothers very unorganized closet. He didn't care about the cold, lonely taste of steel that the police issue 9mm gun his mother used to help protect people with filled his trembling mouth. As he pulled the trigger, the only care in his being was, if in the next life, he would get to tell his sister how sorry he was; How much he loved her with all his heart.


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