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Killing people. Fucking a detective. Stealing his car.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Banging my head against the steering wheel, I attempt to gather my bearings.

I need to call Sherry. And then I can turn myself in. End all of this bad luck.

Figure my shit out.

There’s guilt that lives deep within me, but I had long since learned to replace it with chaos.

I had been inadvertently causing others pain for as long as I could remember.

And even their deaths…

Starting with my mom.

Then my foster brother who tried to sneak into my window, fell from the second floor, landed on a rake, and died.

A burglar shooting himself.

A handsy coworker falling into a fryer.

An angry social worker driving into a swamp.

By the time Sherry found me, I already had a string of bodies that could be tied to me, and while no one had officially discovered the link, I was no longer accepted in foster homes.

After her, she would help clean up the messes.

Move the bodies, change the narrative.

Sweetheart, this isn’t your fault. These are people who meant to do you harm and karma caught up to them quick. That was always how she explained it.

Maybe if these men—the ones I'd been hired to kill, the ones I'd cooked meals for—had been the first deaths I'd inadvertently caused, I'd be more upset. Instead, all I felt was numb.

And disappointed that the small business I started wasn’t at all what I thought it was.

I can’t do anything right.

Rain begins to pound down, while I am still north of town. I am taking the back roads which means less street lights, and my sight is more than limited.

Shaking my head, I focus on driving.

Less than a minute later, a deer runs out in front of me.

I slam on the brakes, but the lubricated tires offer no traction as I spin out and off the road.

Instinctively, I cover my head and squeeze my eyes shut.

It is on the third spin that the bump! bump! of tires leaving the road sounds around me, and then I feel them lift up entirely.

The world shifts on its axis as I flip.

One singular ounce of panic hits me before I replace it with forceful calm. A method I used throughout my chaotic life to survive.

Once.

I’m going to be sick.