I turn away from Fritzsch’s body to face the voices, which belong to Irena and Hania. They came. But now it’s too late.

The moment I whirl toward them, they tense, but I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure why they’ve stopped so far from me. Maybe they don’t understand that Fritzsch is dead. He can’t hurt them, and he can’t be brought to justice. Hania and Irena move closer, still talking, and even though I’m not paying attention I think they’re trying to soothe me. Maybe it’s because I can’t stop screaming.

“He was supposed to stand trial, he wasn’t supposed to die—”

“The gun, Maria,” Irena says fiercely, bringing my cries to a jarring halt.

The pistol. I forgot I was holding it.

I turn back to Fritzsch’s body. My bullet tore through his lower abdomen and bloodied his perfect uniform. Somehow his had missed me. Fritzsch’s pistol lies on the ground, next to his hand, and blood spills from the circle of mangled flesh at his temple, where a second bullet had struck. The death blow.

No, that can’t be right. I pulled my trigger once, but a bullet to the stomach wouldn’t have killed him so quickly.

And I heard two shots.

I fired once. I know I fired once, and so did he. The head wound killed him, the wound I couldn’t have inflicted, not from my angle. And in all the time I’ve known him, Fritzsch’s bullets always found their intended mark.

He hadn’t fired at me at all. The head wound was self-inflicted.

“You stupid, cowardly bastard, you were supposed to go to prison, you weren’t supposed to kill yourself!”

Amid my screams, the gun flies from my hand because I suppose I throw it, but I don’t know. The migraine worsens, and my cries fade into sobs as my knees hit the gravel, where I press my hands against my temples to alleviate the pounding, but I succeed only in smearing the sticky droplets of blood that stain my skin like they stain the broken chessboard.

One mistake, one fatal mistake is all it takes to ruin an entire chess game. The mistake I made is so obvious now. Throughout my years of playing chess, I’ve never discussed my strategy, but this time I chose pain before wits, I moved my queen too early and my king too late, and I told him how I was going to play and how I wanted this game to end. This stupid pawn cleared the path for her own king’s check, but I have to get out before the checkmate. There has to be a way; it can’t end like this.