Throwing back his water bottle, Scot closed his eyes and sighed as the cool liquid soothed his burning throat and lungs. Running had never taken his breath away like it had today. Or maybe it was just from his rather daunting performance on the curb of his small neighborhood. He shook the thought away and smiled as his running partner wiped her forehead and finally caught up.

"What took you so long?" Scot asked.

Anna wiped her forehead and gouged her face with water. "You sped up and left me in the dust!"

"I did?"

She fixed her ponytail and patted her skin with a towel. "You don't really do that unless something's bothering you. What's up?"

For a long, hard minute, Scot stared at her. After almost a week, he'd wanted to tell someone. But he always kept to himself about it. Anna was his best friend, someone he couldn't keep a secret from. Maybe she already knew. His stomach knotted, and he released his breakfast in a nearby shrub.

"Oh my God," Anna said. "Was sex with her that bad?"

Scot choked, whirling around to face her. "What?" He shook his head. "No, no. Erica was fine. Wait, why would you think it was her?"

Anna crossed her arms, gripping on the towel and water bottle. "We're right in front of your house, and you just randomly decide to throw up. What other thing besides sex could that mean?"

"Anna!"

"Did you use protection?"

Scot smacked his forehead and stomped over to his bike. He needed to clear his head, rid himself of these off-putting memories. A flash buzzed in his head, followed by an ear-splitting bang. He pushed off and started his way down the block. He'd give anything to forget about that day.

His peddles matched the erratic pulses in his chest. Thump - thump thump - thump. What would his parents think of him if they ever found out? What if it got on the news? Scot almost missed a turn, awkwardly waving at a fuming old woman. All he needed to do was get out this town, and no one would ever know. Except for the man who told him to do it. Where was he, anyways? Living his life peacefully while Scot cried every night of last week, most likely.

He slid the wheels in the gravel once he came to a departure sign. All he had to do to redeem himself was right in front of him. One step forward, and he'd be free. Free. It'd been a while since he last heard that word. And it was when Erica asked if he had any plans for the day. Things became heated, and after that night, nothing was ever the same again.

A series of tires rolling on the ground made him flinch. He whirled around and sighed when it was just Anna.

"Dude, what's with you and leaving me all the time?"

Scot laid his bike in the dirt and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry."

She dropped her bicycle and jogged to his side. "You never apologize. What's really up? You never used to leave me hanging like this. I won't be mad if it's about me."

"YOU DON'T GET IT!"

"Well help me understand," she whispered. "You think you're the only one going through tough times right now? Mom's in the hospital, and I'm not allowed to see her. Dad's working three jobs to get the bill paid for. What you're going through can't be that bad."

The two sat along the pole of the departure sign, heads resting on the chill metal. Wavy and almost pink, the sun fell. Scot closed his eyes and welcomed the coming dusk. Why did he ever think he could keep a secret from her? He took a deep breath.

"Anna," he started. "I haven't told anyone yet."

The skinny, freckled girl held a finger up, glancing all around towards the forest on their left and right. "You hear that?"

"What?" Scot began to stand, but Anna forced him back down. "Anna, come on. Tell me."

"Listen."

Scot leaned in closer.

"You let the bastard live?"

"Aye, man. Calm the fuck down."

Scot froze, clamping a hand over his mouth and trying not to breathe. The way the man pronounced 'aye' meant it was him. The same guy who made Scot hate his life.

"I gave you one job. Now guess who's gotta deal with all this?"

"I can do it this time. He just caught me off guard. I won't slip up. Just lemme have another shot."

Scot clenched his chest through his shirt and tried not to wheeze. Every muscle in his body begged to move, but Anna's hand stayed over his wrist. Why did she just sit there and not move? They'd kill her. He barred his teeth. He knew they'd kill her. And if she died, everything would be his fault for not telling her.

He moved in behind her ear. "Anna."

She didn't move.

Scot shook her shoulder slightly.

"Anna!" he said, a tad louder. "Dammit, turn arou -

He couldn't move as he whirled her body to face his. Right in between her eyes sat the black magnum bullet. Blood painted over her eyes and lips, resembling a piece of art from a baby's fingers. He spat up bile over her unmoving body and rested his forehead against hers, regardless of her pouring blood leaking over his skin and lips.

A gun clicked, but he didn't turn to meet the sound. Scot's lips quivered as Anna's body ran cold, and the life of her brown eyes slowly vanquished. How didn't he hear the bullet? Why didn't he say something? He closed his eyes and let the tank of tears fall. No sound came from his mouth. Mute. A detachment numbed itself in the middle of his throat as the bullet launched. And at the last possible second, he pressed his lips against hers.

I killed Erica.