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  “I’m going to get you back, Lyle. I swear to you,” I called to my brother, my voice cracking. I couldn’t believe they were actually taking him and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Had I just blatantly lied to my brother? How could I swear to get him back when I had no idea how to get ten thousand dollars? They were going to kill him and it was going to be my fault.

  My chest was heaving as I started to get overly worked up. Should I just go ahead and end it all? I could go down all of my prescriptions and a bottle of liquor, overdose like my father. Might as well, right? But even as I started to accept that fate, I knew I couldn’t resort to that. Not yet. If I was going to die, I might as well go out doing everything in my power to get my brother back. Whether it was getting the money, or trying to take him by force. What else did I have to lose?

  I had to give it my all. What was the best strategy, though? I sat down on the stairs and put my head in my hands as I tried to think. I needed to go with whatever plan provided the most likely chance for me to get my brother free of them. I didn’t care what happened to me after the fact. As long as a plan resulted in Lyle’s freedom, nothing else mattered to me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: PLAN Z

  The Next Morning

  I sat back against the tree, popping a couple more painkillers into my mouth. I was already kind of stoned from them, but I needed anything that would calm my nerves. Chasing the pills with the last of the tequila from the flask I had brought with me, I exhaled heavily. So, this is what my life had come to. The only crime I had ever committed before was shoplifting—I had a severe case of sticky fingers as a kid. But that wasn’t really my fault, I typically stole when I was starving. So with at most a misdemeanor worth of criminal experience, I sat across the street from Valley Ridge Bank with my father’s pistol in my jacket. Before that morning, I had never even held a gun.

  The metal felt almost alien in my hand. Could I even go through with my plan? Well, if you could even call it a plan since I had no idea what I was going to do once inside the bank. Every molecule in my body begged me not to go through with it, but I had to do everything I could to get Lyle back. How could I live with myself if I didn’t? How could I die in peace knowing there was something I hadn’t tried?

  I was ripped from my thoughts as cars started to pull into the bank parking lot, the bank finally opening for business. I sat and waited in the tree line, not able to bring myself to move quite yet. Dry swallowing two more painkillers, I stood up and jumped up and down, trying to make myself loosen up. You can do this, you can do this. The pills I had taken a few minutes ago began to kick in. Finally, the pills induced a euphoric level of high. My hands stopped shaking so bad, though I was extremely light headed. Wobbling a bit, I steadied myself took a few deep breaths.

  Tucking the gun into the waistband of my pants and picking up the duffle bag I brought with me, I hurried across the road while no cars were passing. The hydrocodone was making me almost giddy, chuckling under my breath despite my heart pounding in my ears. You’re going to die, the whispers called over the sound of my heart. Yeah, well, at least I was going to go out trying to save my brother. My only hope at that point was to live long enough to give Vinny the money so that Lyle could go free. So I had to be smart going in the bank, I couldn’t get taken down by one of their security guards. As I neared the door to the bank, I slid on a skiing mask and pushed the door open. Drawing the pistol from my waistband, I pointed it into the air and fired a round. The gunshot rang through the small building. “Everyone, on the ground!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. There was a bit of scrambling, but everyone promptly laid down on the ground with their hands behind their heads.

  With bloodshot eyes and triple vision, I made my way to the counter and threw the duffel bag onto the counter. “I need ten thousand, right now,” I demanded, aiming my gun at the young female bank teller. She screamed and began to cry instantaneously. Trying to make sure she knew I meant it, I pulled back the hammer on the gun. “Now!” I barked. The woman jumped but then grabbed the bag and headed towards the back. She could make a phone call from back there, the voice in my head reminded me. “Wait,” I called to her. A sweat broke out over my face from under the mask. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t go back with her, someone in the front could try and make a phone call. Pointing the gun to one of the other bank tellers, I addressed him, “You. Collect all of the phones in here and bring them to me. If a call is placed while I’m here, I’m going to hold you responsible.”

  Without any hesitation, the man grabbed a file box and emptied it onto the floor. I kept the gun aimed at him as he moved person to person and desk to desk, collecting all of the phones in the bank. Once he cleared every office and all of the hostages on the floor, the man hesitantly walked the box over to me. Taking the box from him, I patted him down to make sure he wasn’t hiding any. Placing the box on the counter, I pointed the gun back at the young woman, “Okay, now go get the money.” She ran as fast as she could into the back.

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” a voice called from beside me. Looking over, I saw Johnathan the loan officer among the people on the ground. “Ja—”

  “Shut up!” I hollered at him, aiming the gun at him. Was he really stupid enough to try and call me out?

  “You don’t have to do this…” Johnathan pleaded.

  “It’s your fault!” I screamed at him, venom dripping from my words. “I told you I needed that money! Why couldn’t you just give me the loan? You wouldn’t have lost your job over it. I need this goddamn money. So keep your mouth shut!”

  If he knows who you are, he will turn you in as soon as you leave, the voice explained to me. Kill him before he tells anyone your name. I shook my head. What? I wasn’t going to kill someone… Then what are you doing with a gun in your hand? Well, because I needed leverage to make them give me the money. So you’re a man of empty threats? “Shut up,” I muttered under my breath as if saying it aloud would make the incessant whispering stop.

  “Who needs to shut up?” the bank teller who had collected the phones asked me.

  I aimed at him with the gun, “Everyone needs to keep quiet!”

  “No one was talking…”

  “You are right now,” I warned him in a low voice. The man didn’t open his mouth again. “Hurry the hell up!” I called back to the woman collecting the money, growing irritable with how long it was taking. I needed to hurry up and get out of there. After another minute had passed, the woman emerged from the back with my duffel bag in hand. “Set it on the counter and back away.” The woman put the bag on the counter between us and backed up several feet with her arms held above her head. Using one hand to keep the gun pointed at the male teller, I unzipped the bag and looked through the money, looking for any visible dye packs or trackers. I didn’t see anything. Then, I started counting the money up to count it. The twenty dollar bills were in stacks worth a thousand dollars each, and there were ten of them. Good. I could get out of there.

  The whisper in my head spoke up again, If she just needed ten bundles of twenties, what was took her so long? That was a valid point. Glaring hard at the woman, I aimed the gun at her, “What took you so long?” I asked her. At first, her mouth just hung open. “I asked what took so long!”

  “I-I messed up on the code a c-couple of times… I was n-nervous…” she explained through her fat tears.

  So it took her that long to enter a code on a safe? She’s hiding something. The voice was actually helping me, pointing out the errors in everything I was doing to help me cover my tracks—so I didn’t question it. “I don’t trust you,” I hissed at her.

  “Please, you have to believe me,” she cried to me. “I-I swear. I didn’t call the cops. I didn’t.”

  “You have your money! Leave her alone, and get out of here!” one of the men on the ground called up to me.

  “No one asked you,” I snapped, not bothering to turn to see who had said it. I wasn’t myself at all, gi
ving into the anger that I had been bottling up for so long and was amplified by the hydrocodone as well as validated by the voice in my head.

  “He’s right. You’ve got your money. Why don’t you leave already? Get a head start before one of us actually calls the cops,” the male teller confronted me.

  “Don’t try and be brave,” I warned, turning the gun yet again to him.

  Just shoot him, it isn’t like you’re going to get away with this anyway, the voice commented. No, I didn’t want to kill anyone. What are you? Afraid? I wasn’t necessarily afraid to kill someone, I didn’t want to. No one there deserved to die, and even if I died, I didn’t want to be remembered as a killer. I was a doctor, I healed people, not hurt them. Some doctor you are—you’ve been abusing prescription drugs so that you had a scapegoat for when you really started to lose it. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Is he crazy?” I heard someone whisper in the room.

  “I’m not crazy!” I screamed, ripping the ski mask off of my face. What was the point to it? That Johnathan guy knew who I was and would rat me out. The police would find out my name sooner or later. You fucking idiot, now instead of having circumstantial evidence, the cops will now have a room full of witnesses, the voice hissed in my head. I beat my hands against my temples, just wanting the voice to get out of my head. “I’m not crazy, I’m just under a lot of stress right now,” I told no one in particular, wanting to defend my actions. The bank tellers and security guards were staring me down with wide eyes. “I’m not a bad guy. I just want to help my family. I didn’t want to do this,” I pleaded with the people around me, tears filling my bloodshot eyes.

  “Why don’t you put the gun down before you hurt someone or yourself,” a security guard spoke up, taking a step toward me.

  “Move back!” I warned him. “Don’t come near me!”

  “It ain’t like you’re going to use it,” a voice sounded from right behind me. Spinning around, I saw my dad standing just a couple feet from me. He’s just in your headl—don’t’ let him distract you, the voice tried to reason with me. My eyes wouldn’t leave him, though. It was like he was standing right there… “Stop embarrassing the both of us and give me my goddamn pistol.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I growled at him, leveling the gun on him. I was in power. My father couldn’t tell me what to do.

  “No one is telling you what to do,” the security guard called over to me in a calm tone.

  “Don’t you patronize me,” I snapped, glaring over at the guard before returning my gaze to my father. “This is your fault. I shouldn’t have to be doing this. Lyle and I are dead because of you.”

  “Join the crowd,” my father laughed cynically. “It’s probably a good thing, Jason. You really think you need to live on to have a bunch of fucked up kids? They’ll probably look just like me, like you do. And you’ll hate them for it. And you’ll be just like me. Only worse, having a brain as fucked up as your mother’s.”

  I saw red, unable to hear anything else come out of his mouth. My finger squeezed the trigger, shooting off three rounds at him. Each bullet hit him, one in the shoulder, one in the stomach, one in the heart. My father’s face was blank as he fell to the ground. Dark red blood pooled all around him on the cheap laminate floor. Everything in me had to fight the urge to empty the clip into him. Almost three decades of misery he had caused, he deserved it. You idiot, HE ISN’T REAL, the voice shouted at me.

  Before I had a chance to respond, another gunshot sounded in the small bank. I dropped to the floor instantly, the blood racing through my veins in panic. Was I hit? I didn’t feel anything… Who else had a gun? Getting to my feet, I snatched the bag from the counter and studied all of the people, slowly turning and pointing my gun at each of them as I tried to figure out where the shot had been fired from. My eyes found a bullet hole in the far wall, right about at my head level. The shot had to have come from the left of the room. Pacing over to them, I started to pat each one down, trying to find the gun. “I just explained I was a good man, and one of you attempted to kill me,” I laughed sadistically. “This is what is wrong with the world. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good person who only wants to do right by others. People will try and fuck you over any chance they get. No one cares about helping honest individuals in need, but people who fit the requirements for the system to suck as much money out of the person as possible. It’s bullshit! I’m a doctor who had to take on a lot of debt to put myself through med school. And what’s the thanks I get for choosing a career that saves? Crippling student loan payments and being denied a loan to help save my family!”

  I was in a fit of laughter, a hearty, bitter laugh erupting from my stomach. I could actually feel my mind letting go of rationality, giving into the madness that all of this stress had driven me to. I picked up the head of one of the women on the floor. “Do you think it’s fair that I have to die just because I couldn’t get the funds to pay off a man I never antagonized personally?” I asked her with a twisted grin on my lips. “Well, is it?” I asked her, lifting her head up more.

  “No, it isn’t,” the woman cried.

  “Leave her alone!” the man snapped from beside her. As I turned to address him, another gunshot sounded through the building. A red hot burning sensation overcame my shoulder. Slowly, I looked down to see a small hole in my jacket and a dark red puddle forming around it. I couldn’t hear anything for a moment, and didn’t feel anything but a nagging burning sensation and how cold and wet my shoulder was becoming because of the blood. It took my brain a full minute to process that I had just been shot. When it finally clicked, I got to my feet in a second. One of the old men on the ground right next to the counter had his weapon drawn, though he looked terrified to see he had actually shot me. In a panic, I shot in his direction but didn’t wait to see if the bullet had hit him. With actual tinnitus ringing in my ears and with shaking hands, I snatched up the duffel bag. I had to get out of there before that guy killed me. Without wasting any more time, I headed to the door. I couldn’t believe I had just done all that… I couldn’t believe how quickly I had unraveled. But all that mattered then was that I had the money, and I could go get my brother.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: KARMA OR GENETICS

  As soon as I stepped outside the door, I saw flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the street sign. As I got to the road to run into the woods, three police cars and an ambulance were speeding towards me. No, no, no. I had the money… I just had to go meet with Vinny and Lyle would be safe… That bitch who got the money had to have called the cops. I knew I had a reason not to trust her. Tears blurred my vision, standing in the middle of the road as the cop cars stopped just a few yards away from me. I didn’t want to go out this way... I had to get this money to Vinny.

  My bottom lip quivered as I raised a shaky hand to point the pistol at the police. I didn’t want to threaten them, but they had to let me go. Just for a little while. The money in the bag would keep Vinny’s thugs from hunting Lyle down. I would happily rot away in prison if it meant my brother was safe. Six officers quickly got out of their squad cars, all aiming down their sights at me. “Put down the gun, Dr. Gilmore. We don’t want to hurt you,” one of the officers called over to me. How did he already know my name?

  I shook my head, bitter tears rolling down my cheeks, “You don’t understand,” I called over to him. “I had to do this. I have to save my brother. I just want to save my brother. Please, let me go!”

  “Jason… your brother is fine. Put the gun on the ground. This isn’t you.”

  “You don’t know me!” I barked at him. “And I’m not buying it. You don’t even know who my brother is. You’re only saying that to get me to drop the gun.”

  “I’m not lying to you, Jason,” the cop tried again.

  “I. Don’t. Believe. You,” I hissed through gritted teeth. Why should I trust them? They had no reason to help me. They just wanted to arrest me fo
r robbing the bank.

  The cop didn’t respond to me, turning to whisper something to one of the others. The silence that settled over the situation completely unnerved me. What were they planning to do? You aimed a weapon at six officers. What do you think they are about to do? You’re going to be put down like Old Yeller. My heart was going to explode from the anxiety of it all. All of this would be for nothing? Lyle would still die by the hands of Vinny and Roger? I had gotten so close…

  In a split second decision, I hurled the duffel bag onto the road between the police cars and myself. “C-Can you please help my brother? I’m b-begging you. Th-there’s a drug dealer named Vinny. He’s got my brother hostage. I h-had to get the m-money t-to get them to release him. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry… I should have gone to the cops. I was just scared. They were going to kill my family. I-I swear I’m not lying,” I pleaded with them. They had to understand I was serious. They couldn’t just write me off as some nut job. Someone had to save my Lyle.

  The silence remained in the air. They don’t believe you, Jason. You’re just another psycho who took out your frustrations on a bank full of innocent people to them. They are going to kill you. What’s the point of letting them do the honor? You’ve been miserable your whole life, and you’ve come to terms with dying. Just end it already. Do it. DO IT. The voice in my head attacked my thoughts, kicking me when I was already down. The emotional pain hurt far worse than the burn on my back or my gunshot wound. After nearly two weeks of fighting tirelessly to get out of the situation my father left us in, I had still lost. You’ve had your share of pain, Jason. It’s time to finally be free of it.

  Hot tears streamed steadily down my face. The voice was right. The two options waiting for me was death by cop, or five to twenty-five years in prison, depending on how hard the judge wanted to throw the book at me. I actually would turn out just like my father if I went to jail—and I would rather die than turn into him. “Please tell Lyle I’m sorry,” I whispered, raising the gun to my temple and closing my eyes.