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"Listen to me Vicky, and this is important, got me?" I asked, voice steel.
"I believe you," she said, nodding, dropping her cig and putting it out with the toe of her shoe before walking closer, the air around her rancid with smoke. "What do you need?"
Aside from about a handful of pain meds?
"The second you see Helen, you need to get to her, and tell her to get out of town. Tonight. Right that moment, understand? She needs to go. And she can't go home first."
"Oh, God. What are you two into?"
"Vicky," I snapped, voice a whip. "This is a life or death thing, okay? The second you see her, you tell her to run. Don't go home. Just run. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Should I tell her to meet you somewhere?"
I'd put her in enough fucking danger already.
My heart was ash in my chest as I spoke.
"No. She needs to go without me."
With that, I threw the car in drive before I could think better of it, before I could get selfish again.
I went back to the motel I had still been calling home, cleared out my bags that I always kept packed save for some basic grooming products, snagged the cash I had taped behind the headboard, got in my car, and drove out of town.
And prayed, fucking prayed that she knew me well enough to know that I would not send her this kind of warning without reason, that she would know how urgent this was, that she would fight the urge to go back home for supplies, to say goodbye to the only parental figure she had known all her life.
I would call the diner, I assured myself as I stopped at a pharmacy for supplies to patch myself up, make sure Vicky gave her the message, that she got out of town, got as far as fast as she could.
Then I could stop worrying, knowing she was on her way to safety.
Even if it was fucking killing me that I didn't get to say goodbye, didn't get to hold her one last time, kiss her one last time, tell her something I had known for weeks, but had fucking stupidly kept to myself.
That I was in love with her.
And now, yeah, now it was too fucking late.SIXHelenIt was one of those days.
Those 'nothing can go right' days.
There was no coffee left in the house.
I couldn't get my hair to stop doing that ripple thing when I pulled it up for work.
My tire blew out.
The mechanic got handsy, and I had needed to slap him away from me.
I was pretty much at the point when I pulled into the lot to find Vicky flagging me down where all I could think was What now?
I could barely roll my window down fast enough for her as she seemed to frantically raise her cigarette to her lips.
Her hand was shaking.
Why the hell was her hand shaking?
"You need to get out of town. Right now. Don't even turn off your car. Just go and get out of town."
My heart plummeted down into my stomach as my pulse sped up, pounding in my throat and temples.
"What? What happened?"
"Charlie was here. He was in bad shape, Helen. Really bad shape. He was looking for you. Worried about you. He said to get out of town. Now. Don't come into work. Don't go home. Just get out of town. I think whoever got him is trying to get you, Helen."
Whoever got him.
There were only two people on earth who could have gotten to Charlie.
My father or my brother.
Those bastards.
Those fucking assholes.
"How bad was he?"
"Bad. Real bad, Helen. Bleeding out his mouth. Face covered in bruises. Swollen. But he was breathing. And he was driving. I think he will be okay. But he was worried about you. I'm worried about you. He's stronger. You wouldn't survive that kind of beating."
She had no idea what I could survive.
But the last thing I was worried about right that moment was myself.
I was worried about Charlie.
I was worried about how much damage had been done.
Would he make it?
God, he could not die.
Not because of me.
Not because he spent time with me.
Not because of who my family was.
Not before I told him I loved him.
"Helen, go," Vicky demanded, snapping me out of my useless thoughts.
"I'm going," I told her, throwing my car into drive.
I was going alright.
But I wasn't going out of town.
I was going to Charlie's motel room.
He'd asked me if I wanted to go there a few times over the weeks, when we had more than an hour to spare.
He'd never pressured me to go there. Because we both knew why he wanted me there.
And I wasn't ready yet.
Don't ask me why.
I'd lost my virginity as an act of rebellion.
If that hadn't meant anything, I didn't know why this time did.
