Jack
Ikill the engine. During the drive, the old sedan rattled, but it made it to the driveway. I hug the steering wheel.
“Don’t die on me, yet,” I say to the car, grateful she made it another day.
Now I’m here.
Home.
It’s quiet, dark, and peaceful.
But I don’t want to go inside. Not yet.
I search the console. Nothing. The visor. Nope. The glove compartment.
Yes! The other joint I hid.
It’s been at least a year since I’ve lit up, but now is a good time. I lean back and flick the lighter. The burn in my lungs is a welcome relief. I need this so bad.
I exhale, filling the car with a plume of smoke that spreads its pungent scent. I stare at the burning paper rolled between my fingers.
I just wanted to help Noel and ended up taking his girl home. What a dick I am.
Fuck, I almost killed that rapist, too. Would’ve went to prison. For what? A chick I don’t even like. I lost my mind. Walking into a church never goes well. I thought meeting with Morgan would be quick. I should’ve known better.
Another drag fills my lungs and I hold it longer. I should be feeling better. How old is this damn thing?
Nope. There it is.
The calm.
My phone vibrates.
Church girl. I write her quick and hope that’s the end of it. I helped her. She knows I want the charges dropped.
I finish the blunt, and finally, I feel faded enough to go inside.
I get to the front door, and my heart stops beating.
The green wooden door is ajar and damaged, splintered from being pried open. I push it with my fingertip and the hinges whine softly.
The front room is ransacked. The kitchen drawers are ripped open. I walk past both rooms because my gun is in mine and my brothers are supposed to be here.
Please be here. Be safe.
The hall has random things on the floor, dropped by whoever made this mess. A broken watch. Some video games. Pictures on the wall that were bumped and hang askew.
In the bathroom, the medicine cabinet is opened, and things are strewn all over the counter.
Next, Tommy’s room. It’s dark. I flip on the light.
Tommy is huddled in the corner on the floor, hands covering his ears, gaze fixed on his feet.
“Tommy,” I say as I kneel beside him. “You okay, buddy?”
He looks up and latches onto me like I’ll vanish if he doesn’t.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “What happened? Where’s Noel?”
