Page 56 of Overkill

He had eased into an empty space I didn’t know existed, and while he was navigating his way around two teenagers, he was quietly holding me up as well. It almost made me cry.

I was so tired, and not just from the shooting, or the getting hit by a car. I had a soul-deep exhaustion that I had lived with for so long that I didn’t know what it was like to not be carrying the weight of the world on me. I didn’t know what it was like to wake up without rocks in my gut, and a desire to just…let go. To disappear, and to stop existing.

It was the first time I could remember taking in a full breath. All because he had ordered food, stopped a fight, and now…was picking up bags and tipping drivers. Small things that, when added all together, became huge. Like I actually had someone to lean on…

I liked it. I wanted it to be my reality.

I wanted to watch my brother and sister spat and have someone to talk about it with afterwards. Someone who could help me keep calm and stay levelheaded, so I wasn’t always panicked all the time.

“She is.” I smiled, proud of her. “She’s the easy one.”

“Marcus is a good kid, too.” He turned the knob, and as he pulled it open, whispered, “He’s just going through it. But he’s a good kid.”

I always thought so. Marc could be a real prick, but at his core, I always believed he had a good soul. But it was blind faith and sometimes, I worried that I was deluding myself.

Two men, each with two bags, stood on the other side. One with Thai, the other with greasy American.

“How much food did you get?” I said, mouth open.

“I like leftovers. Don’t you?” He reached into his wallet for two bills, giving each a twenty. “Thanks for coming this far!”

“Oh, you already tipped in your online payment,” one of them said, and the other nodded to agree.

“I know, but it’s raining and shitty out. Here you go.” Both guys smiled as they plopped through the puddles back to their running cars.

“You sure like to throw your money around,” I said suspiciously. “Is that…because you’re trying to impress me?”

“You getting sassy on me, darling?” He lifted a brow. “And no. I’m not rich. But I also don’t spend much. So when I want to, I can.”

He had all four bags in his massive hands, leaving nothing for me to carry as he placed the food in front of the kids. While the teens stuffed their mouths, the argument was forgotten. What few dishes were used, Greg washed in the sink and put in the drying rack beside it.

I smiled. I didn’t think that my face knew how to do that anymore. Not the polite smile I use so that no one thinks I’m insane. But a genuine, contented smile that comes with not being terrified all the time that something is about to go wrong.

Then my phone buzzed.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Don’t make us do something you’ll regret

A strange, jittering shiver went through me. The feel of barely restrained terror. Of a scream or a shout or a temper tantrum I would not have. The cry I would not allow to escape. The absolute wish to flee, to disappear, to make it all go away no matter the consequences.

That terror that something would go wrong was there for a reason. I wasn’t safe.

No one was safe around me.

Nothing’s so good that it lasts forever…

My fingers trembled as I turned the phone, its screen facing down.

Greg took my hand and placed it on his thigh. A subtle, soothing move the kids didn’t notice. He couldn’t have seen the message. The notification barely popped up for more than two seconds before I’d flipped it over. But he must have sensed something was wrong.

The kids dismissed themselves to their rooms, and then there were two…

I held a mug of chamomile tea in my hands as the cold started seeping through the poorly insulated walls. The draft was coming from the broken living room window, and I shivered.

He stared at me, his own mug in one hand, the other playing with the tea bag.

He looked awkward in the small kitchen. Like he was looking for something to say, or was perhaps trying to make a hasty exit. I was a lot. The kids were a lot.

“You know…I’m fine,” I whispered.