The back of Delois's head hit the flat surface of the wooden step with a dull, heavy thud.
A blinding flash of white light exploded behind Delois's eyes, instantly followed by a crushing, suffocating darkness. Her body went completely limp, sliding off the step and collapsing into a heap on the ground.
The chaotic screaming in the yard stopped instantly. The silence that followed was absolute and terrifying.
Blanca froze for a fraction of a second. Then, a sound tore from her throat-a raw, guttural scream of pure maternal terror. She threw herself onto the dirt, her hands frantically grabbing at Delois's pale face.
Jessi gasped, taking a sudden, frightened step backward. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth.
Gonzalo let out a roar. He shoved past his mother, his massive hands gently but swiftly scooping Delois's lifeless body off the ground.
When the dull thud registered in Bart's ears, his heart stopped beating.
His body reacted on pure, primal instinct. His right foot slammed forward into the mud. His arms reached out, desperate to catch her, to pull her up, to check if she was breathing.
But he stopped.
He saw Gonzalo already lifting her. He saw the sheer hatred in the brothers' eyes. He saw Blanca weeping over her.
Bart's boots felt like they were nailed to the earth. His hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists so tight his fingernails bit into his own palms, drawing tiny drops of blood. His chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice.
Gonzalo turned, holding his sister tight against his chest. He shot one last, murderous glare at Bart and Jessi, then sprinted up the steps and kicked the front door open.
Blanca scrambled up and ran after them. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a final judgment.
The yard was empty, save for Bart, Jessi, and the lingering stares of the neighbors.
Jessi stood frozen, her face pale. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. She bent down, grabbed her purse from the dirt, and brushed it off with shaking hands.
"Good riddance," Jessi muttered, her voice lacking its previous venom, sounding more like nervous justification. "Come on, Bart. Get in the truck. Let's get out of this cursed place."
She grabbed Bart's bicep and pulled.
Bart didn't resist. He let his mother drag him toward the rusted Ford. But his eyes remained locked on the wooden porch step.
Right on the sharp edge of the wood, catching the sunlight, was a fresh, dark smear of blood.
Bart climbed into the passenger seat. Jessi slammed the door shut behind him, sealing them in the cramped, stuffy cabin of the truck.
Jessi started the engine. The truck lurched forward, speeding away from the Thornton property.
The silence in the cab lasted only a minute before Jessi started talking. She ranted about Blanca's insanity, about how Delois was just putting on a dramatic show, about how the whole family was a disease.
Bart leaned his head back against the cracked vinyl seat. He closed his eyes. He didn't hear a single word his mother said.
His brain was trapped in a relentless, agonizing loop.
He saw Delois throwing her arms wide, putting her own fragile body between him and Gonzalo's massive fist. He felt the sudden, shocking impact of her weight crashing down on him.
And then, the memory he was trying desperately to kill forced its way to the front of his mind.
The press of her lips against his. The impossible softness of her mouth. The faint, clean scent of lemon soap that clung to her skin, cutting through the smell of the mud and the river water.
Bart's eyes snapped open. His breathing grew harsh and shallow. He raised both hands and dug his fingers violently into his dark hair, pulling at the roots.
He was Bart Hawkins. He didn't care about anyone. He especially didn't care about the daughter of his mother's worst enemy. She was annoying. She was stupid. She chased after city boys.
But his heart was currently beating a frantic, painful rhythm against his ribs. The image of her blood on the wood made his stomach twist into a sick, tight knot.
He turned his head and stared blankly out the passenger window. A dark, angry flush crept up his neck and settled on the tips of his ears.
He cursed himself silently. He was losing control, and it terrified him.
