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What If
Maybe Jim had unwillingly killed her.
Sean had heard noises like wrestling and things being smashed and shattered.
Maybe Jim had pushed her too rough, she’d tripped and hit her head the wrong way. And right now, his brother was shocked before the dead body, not knowing what to do.
Or maybe she had unwillingly killed Jim.
She wouldn’t be the first woman to throw things at Jim during a fight. Maybe she’d hit him with something harder than she’d thought. And right now, she was shocked before Jim’s dead body, trying to come up with a way to escape before they caught her.
Or maybe they had hurt each other, and now they were both lying on the floor, bleeding out, too stunned or too weak to ask for help or at least unlock the damned door.
Or maybe…
But Sean couldn’t think of any more tragedies to explain the silence inside the trailer.
Shit! He should’ve known better. He shouldn’t
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No Return Later, Honey
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No Return Something Crazy
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No Return A Whole Lotta Broken Glass
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No Return Wake Up
Sean kept shaking Jim until his eyes tried to flutter open.“Get the fuck up, dude. We’re leaving in thirty,” grunted Sean, moving away from the bed.Jim scowled and shielded them from the sunlight that filled the suite. “Fuck!” he growled, grabbing his head to keep it from falling off of his neck. “We’ll be downstairs as soon as she’s ready.”Sean was going all over the room, picking up Jim’s things and throwing them into his open suitcases. He heard his brother and turned to him, frowning. Jim was fighting a fair fight to sit up, squinting around in a first attempt to cope with his hangover.“She who?” asked Sean.Jim glared up at him, a hand still pressing his temple. “Fuck you.”“You mean Silvia? She took off an hour ago.”“What?”He managed to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and searched for a number
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No Return The Same Moon
It was eleven in Santiago when midnight cruised across Buenos Aires to the west.Alone in his hotel room, wearing only his jeans, Jim was sitting on the rug with his back against the side of the bed, a beer and a joint at hand, his phone near his bare feet. He tried some random chords on the Fender Silvia had given him the year before, his eyes lost on the night skyline outside his window.She hadn’t replied to his last text.He knew she wouldn’t. He didn’t expect her to. He’d just wanted her to know. That was it.His fingers moved over the strings, his voice joined them in a whisper just out of habit. Until he realized which song he was playing. He stopped, breathing deep.That was the exact moment when he knew she wasn’t there anymore.Not that he’d lost her. She wasn’t gone. This was different. He could feel it in his guts. She would never reply to his last text, or any other, because she&rs
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