Page 45 of Brutal
I end up outside the same bar.
He’s there—same man, same position, same half-worn expression like he’s seen too much and is too tired to care about any of it.
He looks up when I step inside. Cocks his head. Does he recognize me from the other day?
“You again,” he says.
Yes, he recognizes me. I don’t smile.
I step up to the bar and rest my hand on the edge. “Hi there.”
“Hi, again.”
“You said it felt inevitable,” I say. “Like it was going to happen.”
He shifts, glancing past me for a second before his gaze returns. “So we’re back to that. It was a long time ago, ma’am, and I say a lot of things. Why are you still on this?”
“I’m just getting started.”
He gives a quiet huff. “You shouldn’t be asking about that night.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s done.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s finished.”
He presses his lips into a thin line.
Silence for a bit.
Then—
“What actually happened?” I ask.
He flicks his gaze to my hand on the bar and then back to my face. He hesitates, and for a second I think he’s going to shut me down again.
Instead—
“There was shouting,” he says. “It was raining. Real heavy. I couldn’t see half of what was going on.”
“That’s not what you said before.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “I said what I remember.”
“You’re remembering more now.”
His jaw goes tense.
I don’t move. I won’t give him any space to retreat.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone at night,” he says.
“You let me worry about that,” I reply. “Now, please go on.”
Another pause.
Then he leans in slightly. “One of them had a guy. He was holding him by the front of his jacket and dragging him back from the edge like he wasn’t ready to let him go over.”
