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A Worse Idea 71

“You’re in here for crimes you didn’t commit,” Prometheus said.

Randy nodded his head.

“That body committed the crimes,” Prometheus said. “But you didn’t.”

Something in Katie’s eyes sparkled.

Prometheus wanted to leave it at just that. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, that he would be there for her, that he would help her work through the stuff she’d been struggling with.

But there was something he had to ask.

“‘We didn’t see each other for a long time. When you were still a little girl… You’re not innocent anymore, are you?”

“Innocence is for kids,” Randy said. The words sounded strange coming from his mouth, because they clearly weren’t his. “I grew up.”

“You know what I mean. It’s more than that.” Prometheus leaned in. “There are so many questions I want to ask.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“You’re asking what made me a killer?”

“…”

Prometheus didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know.” Randy shrugged. “Life was terrible. Not having a father around was so terrible. And the things he was supposedly doing — the life of crime, the daring escapes, that cat-and-mouse game you and he played — it seemed so much better than my sad, boring life. Maybe I killed to make life good.”

Prometheus nodded his head. “I should’ve been there.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I wasn’t ready.”

“I saw how sad you looked. I was an adult with the money to get you out of there. I should’ve done something.” Prometheus pushed back on the metal chair, which made a scraping sound against the floor. “Could I have done something, back then?”

Katie’s eyes were so honest. “I don’t know.”

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