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“I get that you're mad at me, but I had to do it, Screw. She’s having my kid.” The silence I’m hit back with makes me feel like shit.
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ I remind myself again.
“I ain’t mad at ya,” he says eventually, sounding wounded.
“Bet fucking Troj is,” I huff a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It doesn't fucking work.
“Tell me what happened?” Screwy turns his head and looks at me. It's pointless even trying to lie to him. He knows me better than anyone ever will.
“I shot out his knees, was gonna bring him into Troj. But Alex flipped out when she realized he’d killed Abby.” I straighten up and make sure he’s listening to me. “Screw, I need you to make sure she doesn’t fess up. She’s all about principle. She’s gonna feel bad and think it’s the right thing to do. But it ain’t; this is how it has to be.”
“You go, I go,” His deep growl reminds me, and I get a stab in my chest when I remember the relief I saw on his face when I stepped into the mental facility they’d taken him to.
“You go, I go,” those were the words I said all those years ago while suffering one hell of a fucking headache, but the pain didn’t matter, not when I knew my brother was gonna need me to get through.
“Not this time, buddy.” I grip his shoulder and squeeze.
“I need you out there, keeping an eye on her. Even if she chooses not to keep the kid… We stick to the plan. Nothing changes. I really care about her, Screw.” I stare at him, hoping he’s understanding why I have to do this, even if he hates me for it.
He wants to argue with me, I can tell by the way he’s clenching his fist, but instead, he tenses his jaw and nods his head.
“You gotta find someone to talk to out there, Screw.” All these years being the only one who my brother has spoken to was never a burden. He’s the hardest fucker I know, yet he seems afraid of his own voice, maybe he’s more fearful of the words that might come out. All I know is that right now, I feel like a cunt for taking that voice away from him.
“You hear me. You find someone to talk to.” I point my finger at him sternly.
“Time’s up.” Roswell opens the door and looks at us sadly, and I stand up to hug my brother goodbye. He grips around my shoulders so tight it takes all the air from my lungs. Then when he backs off and walks out of the cell, the metal slamming on metal, I feel my heart beat a little faster.
Suddenly it seems harder to breathe, and something that feels a lot like fucking panic stirs inside me.
I place my forehead against the cool breezeblock wall and concentrate on finding my next breath. Screwy will be fine, Alex will be fine, I will be fine. I’ve been to prison a couple times. Granted, never for very long, and never on a fucking murder charge. It ain’t anything I can’t handle. Alex, on the other hand… bringing up a kid on her own, living with the grief of losing Danny and Abby. She’s gonna have to be strong. But I got no doubt in my mind that she'll do it.
I just wish I was the one that got to be there for her.
That seems like the greatest sacrifice of all.
I didn’t mention the baby to the doctor who checked me over, it would have caused more fuss, and I just wanted to get home and be alone. I promise the lady officer who drops me off outside my house that I’ll be at the station to make my statement first thing in the morning, then as I step up onto my porch, I turn back around and wave to let her know I’m okay.
I’m not okay.
I’m feeling far too many emotions to be okay. Abby is dead, her whole life has been taken away from her, and that feels a lot like it’s on me.
Squealer is in custody and highly likely to spend a huge chunk, if not all, of his life behind bars, and that’s on me too.
I wanted Hawker to pay for what he did to Danny. I never intended for anyone else to suffer the consequences. And all that stuff Hawker said about Danny being his accomplice has been really weighing on my mind. It can’t be true.
Opening the front door, I step inside, and the place seems so empty. Abby may have only moved in officially today, but she’d been hanging out here so often lately. She had her own key; she came and went as she pleased. And now she’ll never walk through this door again. I step through the house into the room that was supposed to be hers. There are boxes stacked up in the corner still waiting to be unpacked, and I lay out on her bed on top of all the clothes she must have contemplated wearing before she left. It smells of her in here. It’s strange that up till now, I never realized she had a smell, and I wonder now how long it’ll last.
I want so much to be mad at Hawker for taking her future from her, but right now, all I can feel is heartbreak. Tears drip from my eyes onto her clothes as I lay on my side and look at the drawings she’d pinned onto the wall.
Abby was fighting for a future. She was so young to have gone through so much. I let her and my brother down, the pain is crippling. I wish I could go back to the person I was in Boston. I didn’t attach myself to anyone there. It was just me I had to worry about, and it was so much better that way. No fucks, and no heartbreak.
I think back to the warehouse, the look in Squealer’s eyes as they dragged him away. What he’s done is the most unselfish thing anyone's ever done for me. Come to think about it, I can’t remember anyone ever doing anything for me until I came to this town.
When I see the maroon-colored hoodie among the clothes I’m lying on, I pull it up to my face and breathe it in. This was Danny’s college sweater. Abby must have kept it as a reminder of him.
I fell asleep at some point because the phone ringing wakes me up with a start, and I rush off the bed into the living room where the phone is.
