When the two officers step in, Axel gives my hand a firm, squeeze. His silent way of sayingI’ve got you.
I take a deep breath and begin. I recount every detail I can remember, keeping my voice steady, my tone clinical. Still, I haveto stop more than once to breathe, to pull myself back from the edge. When I reach the part where Darren forced me to perform oral sex, Axel drops his head into his hand. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I stick to the facts.
By the time the questions are done and the photographs are taken, I feel hollow. Like there’s nothing left inside me.
Axel hasn’t let go of my hand once.
The nurse returns. “The rest of your family is here,” she says gently. “They can come in when you’re ready.”
“She needs a few minutes,” Axel answers for me. For us. She takes his word and quietly exits.
We sit in silence. Just breathing.
“I’m proud of you.”
I scrunch up my nose, confused. “For what?”
It seems like an unexpected thing to say, considering the circumstances.
“For punching Darren’s balls into his throat.”
The mental image hits, and an unexpected, unhinged laugh bubbles out of me. Axel’s lips twitch with a ghost of a smile, but it quickly fades.
“I’m gonna kill him.” A feral look passes over his eyes. His voice hard and dark.
I blink. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” he argues, deadly calm.
I shake my head. “We’re going to let the justice system do its job. Let them take out the trash.”
His jaw clenches. “He’ll get a slap on the wrist. You know it.”
“We don’t know that. But we’ll deal with thatwhenit happens.”
“Fine,” he grumps with an eyeroll. “But, I’m still gonna kill the bastard.”
I exhale, letting the tension drain from my shoulders.
“Whatever you need to do...”
Chapter 26
The following day, I take off from school to recover, and Axel plays hookey to keep me company. After he runs to the store for a snack run, we binge Gossip Girl and eat junk food in bed. It’s glorious.
“I wish I was more like Blair,” I mumble between chip crunches.
“Why? She’s such a bitch.” Axel reaches into the bag I’m holding, stealing a handful for himself.
“Exactly. She knows what she wants and what she deserves. She doesn’t apologize for it.”
He chews thoughtfully. “You can be like that. Anytime you need a boost, just ask yourself: W.W.B.W.D.?”
I blink. “What?”
He grins. “What Would Blair Waldorf Do?”
A laugh bursts out of me, unexpected and bright. W.W.B.W.D.? Honestly, not the worst mantra.
