Chapter Sterling

As I awakened Sunday morning in a cold sweat, I was hit with the realization that today was the one-week anniversary of the incident in the club. Staring up at the ceiling, the memory burned within me, bubbling like a poisonous concoction in my gut.

I rarely knew fear. That night I did—an overwhelming fright of losing the woman who was now asleep beside me. That dread festered and then combined with a savage need for retaliation. Together they became a dangerous combination.

Lying next to Araneae, I had no regret for feeding the retaliatory hunger. I’d do it again.

The newscasters on the local news programs called the double homicide gang-related, another tragic statistic hidden in the shadows. The easy excuse helped fuel the perception of safety. Stay in the right places, avoid the wrong ones—the illusion was enhanced.

Bad things happened, just not in my world. It was the lie that kept Chicago alive.