I may not chase her down—at risk of getting arrested for stalking or some shit—but I don’t let her run home alone in the dark either. So, after a while, I jog behind her, keeping enough distance between us so that she doesn’t know I’m here.
It’s too dark to make out her figure; instead, all I can see is a silhouette as she gets closer toward The Nest. And when I reach The Tower first, I stand on the sidewalk and stare down at the other end of the street until she runs up onto her porch and she’s safe from the monsters that lurk at night.
Monsters like me.
Ones that live just five houses down …
SEVEN
HENDRIX
The walkhome from practice seems like it takes forever, probably because I’m tired, and all I want to do is sleep. That’s not going to be an option though. It never is in my house.
When I turn the corner onto my shitty street, I narrow my eyes, looking at the car that’s in my driveway. A second or two later, I’m in a dead sprint, rushing to get into the house.
I make a point to have my sister out of the house on Mondays and Fridays. Those are the days my dad’s drug dealers stop by to drop off the goods, and now that my sister is thirteen, I don’t trust any of those motherfuckers around her. They are soulless creatures, ruining our lives and not giving a shit about it either.
I yank the front door open, rushing into the house and letting it fall behind me. I don’t see anyone, but when my father does business, he’s typically in his room, down the hallway.
I rush toward my sister’s room, see the door is shut, and that’s when I hear her scream. Everything in front of me is blurry now as panic and anger fuel my body, pumping it full offury as I kick the door open, finding her attempting to get away from the nasty, middle-aged fucker while he grabs at her jeans.
Her eyes fly to mine, and even though she doesn’t say the words, I know she’s asking me for help.
In moments like these, all rational thoughts go out the window. Could I grab my dad’s gun and shoot it just to get this guy’s attention? Maybe. But all I can see is someone trying to hurt my little sister—trying to fuck her up for life—and so when I remember the random pipe in the hallway just outside her room, I grab it.
And with just two steps and one big bash to his head … he’s down. I can’t tell if he’s breathing, and to be honest, I don’t really care if he is or not. Lilly is safe. Lilly is okay.
Footsteps come closer, and I look from the man to her before rushing toward her window and pushing it open.
“Go! I’ll be right behind you!” I promise her. “Run!”
She climbs through the window, her eyes the size of saucers and her skin as pale as a ghost.
“Hen,” she squeaks, “hurry.”
“I’m right here,” I say, lifting one leg through the window and starting on the next.
Before I can make it, my father and another goon bust into the room. And even though I scramble to get out in time, my shirt gets caught, and my own father is grabbing me by my throat, pulling me back inside.
“Run, Lilly!” I force out through the strain of his hand. “Go and don’t look back!”
“What did you do, boy?!” my father snarls, smashing my body up against the wall.
I may be stronger than he is and bigger too. But in this moment … fear paralyzes my body, leaving me frozen.
“You’re gonna pay for that, kid.” The other guy steps up, looking at my dad. “Should we kill him?”
My father’s cold, dead eyes stare into mine, and I wait on his words like my next breath depends on it—I guess because it does. As his own flesh and blood, I know what the answer should be.
But that isn’t how things work in my world.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do to the little shit,” he hisses. “Long as I still get my shipments, do whatever you want.”
A sick smile covers the other guy’s blistered lips, and I know I’m a goner. And the truth is, I don’t even care. I just want my sister to be safe.
That’s it.
Sitting up in my bed,I cough, gasping for air as sweat drips down the back of my neck. I drag my hand down my face, pinching the bridge of my nose as I will my heart to calm down.
