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He’s an idiot. He’s struggling even to hold the animal. His wrists are so messed up from where I grabbed him.
“Put the dog down.”
“You’ve got no right…”
“You’re mistreating that animal.”
“Look at him. Does he seem unhappy?”
I almost laugh. The question is downright insane. But maybe you’d have to be insane to function in a place like this and get used to ignoring reality. He’s creating his reality. I see four skeletal men and a mistreated dog. He sees four friends and a happy pooch.
The dog finally snaps. He latches onto the man’s finger, growling in wild desperation. The man yells and raises his other hand like he’s about to bring it down toward the dog, but I’m there first. I slam the man against the wall, curling my hand around his throat, and grab the dog simultaneously. The dog panics and bites down, but luckily only grabs a mouthful of my shirt.
I squeeze the man’s throat. I stare into his eyes as they bulge and turn red. I remember the other men, but not one of them is brave enough to help their friend.
Finally, he passes out. I let him fall to the floor like the sack of shit he is.
I carry the dog outside, supporting his fragile bottom as he holds my shirt tightly. After a few steps, he stops growling but keeps his teeth locked on the fabric. My heart aches as I imagine a future child doing the same with their little hand, right against my heart, with Ellie’s eyes looking up at me.
“P-Petey,” Kelly murmurs.
“You know this dog?” I ask her.
She nods, clearly still intoxicated. Her eyes are hazy, and her movements are sluggish, but when she gestures at me, Petey squirms as if he wants to be in her arms.
“Okay, then.” I hand the dog over, then climb into the driver’s seat. “I’m taking you all to my place. I’ll call my private doctor and get an in-call for Petey. You’re all staying as long as you need.”
From the back seat, Ben says, “Are you sure?”
“No arguments. Kelly needs a stable place right now.”
Ben nods and smiles at me in the rearview. He’s one of the few people who know how I made my money and why I live on an enormous property outside the city. There are fences, security, and all the privacy a person could want. He understands how I can afford that luxury.
“Your place?” Kelly says as she gently strokes Petey in her lap. “Not… in the… city?”
Ben frowns. “I’m going to be there every step of the way.”
Kelly laughs, but it somehow sounds sad. “I’m going to hate you tomorrow. Can you believe that?” She laughs sadly again. “I’m going to hate you for getting me out of that shithole.”
I start the engine and drive away.
There’s a flicker in the dark at the side of the road. Somehow, it looks like Ellie. It has her shape. It’s like she’s walking toward the crack den, but my mind is trying to taunt me. If Ellie had been lying in Kelly’s place, I would’ve killed that prick.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Ellie
“It wasn’t that bad,” I say, sitting with Chloe in the cafeteria.
After our first lesson, we exchanged numbers and agreed to meet before our next English Lit class. I’m so relieved, honestly, because I get way too stressed about stuff like waiting alone. Now it’s even worse because I know I’ll see Max.
“Running into your high school bully at work?” Chloe frowns, shivering like she’s covered in bugs. “That sounds like hell. Did it get worse?”
“He was mostly friendly because he was trying to impress his date, but it was how he looked at me. It’s like he was trying to make me that person again.”
“You can be whoever you want to be. That sounds like the world’s biggest cliché, but it’s true. Like with me, you can be anybody. If you make a joke, I won’t say, Whoa, you don’t usually make jokes or whatever. However you want to be, I’ll accept it.”
“What if I want to be a serial killer?”
“Whoa, you don’t usually make jokes.”
We both laugh. Chloe tugs on her long sleeves. I spot some ink as she adjusts her hoodie.
“I’m sorry,” I say when she catches me looking. “I thought I saw a tattoo.”
She grins and rolls her eyes. “On holiday. A peacock. I thought I wanted a freaking peacock on my arm because they were so pretty.”
I laugh. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen, but it was legal over there. Have you got any ink?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been thinking about getting something myself.”
“Oh yeah? What?”
I swallow. At least I swerved from talking too deeply about Cillian and the West Coast and all that stuff he dragged up. It’s like being punched in the face with the past. Only I can’t punch back.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” I say. “Something for my dad. He-he’s not here. I mean, he passed when I was eight. The big C. You know how it is. Bad luck. That sort of thing.”
