“I didn’t need your help. I was fine,” I sayunder my breath as we head to our shared home.
“Didn’t look like you were fine,” Ryder growls, right before someone shoves him from behind. Ryder lets go of my arm and spins around at the same time. I stumble back and watch helplessly as two of the guys hit Ryder in the face.
Everything happens so fast I have a hard time keeping up. One minute we are walking, the next, Ryder gets attacked, and then Ryder tackles one of the two, slamming his body to the ground harshly. The guy’s head bounces off the ground like a basketball, and his eyes roll back before he passes out.
The other guy, Keller, Ryder called him, is still throwing punches. Ryder dodges most of them until he catches one of the flying fists and twists Keller’s arm. He groans, his face turning into a mask of agony as he falls to his knees.
Ryder takes this opportunity and starts smashing his fist into Keller’s face over and over again until his face is unrecognizable. Until Keller passes out and Ryder’s knuckles drip with blood that isn’t his own. Until the police sirens are closing in on the scene and the life I knew has ended.
When I set the book back on the shelf, and the last image of that distant memory leaves my mind, my hands are shaking and unsteady. Why couldn’t I have just told the truth about what happened that day? All I had to do was tell the truth.
Something slides out from in between the pages just as I place the book where it was before. I watch the picture float to the floor like a leaf falling off a tree in the fall time. I pick it up and hold it with trembling fingers. Four familiar faces stare back at me: Ryder, myself, and my parents.
The ache in my chest instantly becomes too much. Unable to look at it, I hastily slide the picture back and return the book to its earlier spot. Trying to push all those unwanted memories away, I look around the house for something else to do.
It starts with a single tear escaping and ends with my vision blurring and my head throbbing in pain. I’ve been doing so good keeping everything bottled up. I’ve shed some tears here and there, but nothing like I am doing now.
With nobody here and nothing to do, I can’t hold back the flood of emotions. I’m on the floor in the fetal position, crying so hard that my whole body shakes. Wave upon wave of sorrow and despair hit me, making me feel like I’m drowning, unable to keep my head above water.
A large wet tongue drags over my face, leaving slobber and dog breath behind on my skin. Prying my eyes open, I find Mojo inches away from my face. I sob as tremors are still shaking my body. Mojo lets out a low whimper and lies down next to me. I put my hand on his back, letting my fingers glide through his soft fur. He scoots closer to me until his large, fluffy body is pushed up against mine completely.
Putting my arm around him and burying my face in his thick coat, I realize that I’ve stopped crying. My body is relaxing, and my mind is calming down. I’m almost drifting off to sleep when I hear the front door open and shut. Unable to move, I hold on to Mojo. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to want to getup either.
“Traitor!” Ryder’s voice booms through the room.
I look up and see him standing in front of us, shaking his head at Mojo. Apparently, unfazed by my wailing on the floor, he says, “You look like shit.”
I feel like shit too.
I hate that Ryder is witnessing this. I’m at the lowest point in my life, and he has a front-row seat to the main event. Of course, I’m the creator of this. I can never forget that. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. I can’t really be mad at him for enjoying this.
Still looking down at us, he orders, “Get up.”
Oh god, I don’t want to have sex right now. I just want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Despite my aching body, and my havoc mind, I get up just like he wants. My movements are jerky and slow, but Ryder doesn’t complain about me moving at a low speed.
“Come on, we’ll get some real groceries,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
By the time we get to the grocery store, my face looks almost normal again. My eyes are still red and slightly swollen, but at least I don’t look like I just did ten rounds in the boxing ring. I have looked that way before, and it wasn’t pretty.
Walking through the aisles of the small-town grocery store next to Ryder is like walking next to a giant billboard saying,look over here. He is tall, muscular, and always dressed in black. Tattoos are not only covering his arms but also his hands and neck. Overall, he looks like a criminal, a bad guy—who will destroy everything around him without thinking about it twice. What nobody knows is that I am the same. Maybe I’m even worse than him.
Ryder makes me push the buggy while he throws random items in as we go.
“You know I brought you along so you could pick some stuff.”
“Oh.” I was actually wondering why he made me tag along. “You want me to pick stuff to cook for both of us?” I don’t want to assume that he wants to eat my food. Having dinner together yesterday was nice for me, but I have no idea if Ryder feels the same way. Maybe he doesn’t like my food.
“If everything you make tastes like what you whipped up last night, then yes, cook away.”
Nodding, more to myself than him, I put stuff in the cart. When we get to the register, Ryder leans against the magazine stand and watches me unload everything out of the cart. The cashier is a young girl with purple hair and a piercing in her bottom lip. She scans and bags everything on the belt while I deposit the bagged groceries back into the cart.
“That’ll be $128.73,” she announces, looking at me expectantly. I look over to Ryder, who is still in the same spot, looking very much amused.
The cashier looks up at me. “Ma’am?”
I glance over at Ryder. “Ryder?”
He grins at me. “Yes?”
