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Story: Phase; the title of this piece is 'Getting Away With Murder.'
Summary: The morning after Angie kills his father.

They both wake up to Candance screaming. Angie jerks awake only a second before Sarah does. Sarah, lying next to him, looks at him silently, wide-eyed and scared. Angie doesn't know what his expression looks like; he's more annoyed than anything. He didn't get much sleep the night before.

They're use to waking up to their parent screaming, but this is new. Candance sounds terrified, and Darrel isn't making a sound. Angie knows why.

Sarah doesn't. "Angie?" she whispers, barely audible over their supposed mother.

He doesn't immediately say anything, just holds a finger to his lips as he sits up. Sarah's mattress is on the floor, and he hears his back crack as he stands. "I'll go see," he whispers back, though he has no idea why he's being quiet. "Stay here."

He can hear Candace talking and sobbing at the same time, and he doesn't care to make out what she's saying. He only creeps to the end of the hall and peeks into their 'parents' bedroom. Darrel is where Angie left him, and Candance has the house phone pressed to her ear.

He only listens for a second before he knows she's on the phone with nine-one-one. That's his cue to hurry back to Sarah's room, where Sarah doesn't look like she's moved an inch.

"What's going on?" she asks, still in that small voice, once Angie closes the door.

He doesn't know how to tell her, and eventually just goes for blunt since he doesn't know how long it'll be until nine-one-one sends someone. "Darrel's dead."

Sarah pales, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open. They stay in silence for a few long seconds, with Candance's sobs barely creeping in under the door, before Sarah finally asks, "Did you...?"

Angie doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.

He doesn't expect Sarah to burst into tears. He doesn't really know what he was expecting - happiness? He sure as fuck feels a lot... something. Calmer. Or he did. Now, he just feels guilty, sad, because no, it isn't suppose to happen this way.

"Sarah, no, don't," he manages, dropping down on the mattress next to her and pulling her into a hug.

Her sobs are muffle against his shoulder, and so are her words. "You're gonna leave me and go to jail."

The hell he is. "No, I'm not," he answers her firmly, before he grabs her by the shoulders to push her back. "Look at me, Sarah. Look at me." It takes a moment of swallowing tears and hiccupping before Sarah can. "I am notleaving you, or going to jail, you hear me? We don't know anything about how Darrell died, okay? We just woke up, and he was dead. That's all we know."

"But what if they catch you?" Sarah whispers, obviously terrified.

Angie thinks about that for a minute, thinks about Darrell lying on the bed, seemingly okay except for the fact that he isn't breathing. "They won't." He is fucking certain on that. Angie isn't delusional enough that he thinks that people will think he wouldn't kill somebody, but Darrell's death is clean. If the Angie that everyone else knows kills someone, it will be violent and messy and horrible. This is clean, and people know that Darrell is a drunk. "They won't."

And they don't. Angie and Sarah wait outside, Sarah still sniffling and wiping at her eyes, while people they don't know go in and out of their house. EMTs, a coroner, the cops. He sees the cops eye him some, but he's right. They don't suspect a thing.

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February 2012

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