“You’re awake,” a deep, invisible voice says. My heart skips a beat.
I spot the shimmer of a figure in the corner. Using my good eye, I squint, trying to see if it’s someone I know or at least recognize. He’s tall, with brown skin, eyeglasses, medium black dreads, and shaved sides. He looks about my age. But that’s all I can really see; my eye hurts so bad…
“It’s Terrell,” he starts. “Terrell Rosario—I saw how badly they hurt you and brought you back to my ma’s place. Hope that’s okay.”
Terrell. Sounds familiar… I think.
My whole body throbs, like pins have been jabbed into the really sensitive spots. I can only imagine what my face looks like, when I can’t even open my right eye.
I nod.
“I put some water on the bedside table,” he says, pointing to my left side. I look over and there’s a blue plastic cup.
“Thanks,” I say.
I can feel his gaze on me, probably wondering what I did to get beaten up by them.
“I’m going to head home,” I tell Terrell. Ma always warns me about people who try to do you favors.
He says nothing, watching me as I hold back tears. My arms shake violently as I try to push myself up. The pain isn’t as bad as other wounds I’ve gotten before, but this hurts so much more because of Dre.
“I’ll get you more ice packs.”
I look at him again, his face becoming clearer as my vision focuses. He has this soft, worried expression on his face that makes me feel like this stranger and I are friends.
I watch him leave the room. Moments later, he’s back with a bag of what seems to be frozen vegetables. “We only had these,” he says, holding up the bag.
He walks toward me cautiously. “Where does it hurt most?”
I point to my right side, and he climbs onto the bed, looking at me quizzically. I nod, figuring he wants consent or something, before he lifts my shirt a little and places the icy bag on the part I pointed out. I squeeze my eyes shut. It stings, but it’s manageable.
The room goes silent as my side tingles and numbs. Terrell stands, observing me carefully, gazing across different parts of my body.
I can’t help but notice his Spider-Man pajama bottoms. My brothers both own similar pairs.
“I know the guys who beat you up,” he starts nervously.Most people know them. “And… I don’t know if me saying this makes you feel any better, but they went easy on you.”
I guess that doesn’t surprise me.
“I didn’t see the fight happen. If I did, I wouldn’t have watched, trust me—I would have tried to help if it meant you being a little less hurt…” He bites his lip and looks away, his sentence feeling incomplete.
There’s something about Terrell that feels so familiar.
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
Silence creeps in again, crawling into the bed and hugging me, trying not to graze itself against my cuts and bruises.
I slip away, Dre’s face floating in my mind, the breakup replaying in a loop. I’m not that surprised by it, just hurt. I always get a little hurt when I lose parts of Dre. Like when he first started dealing after his ma and her boyfriend chucked him out. I lost another part of him when he started beating people up for popularity and respect. I lost another part of him when he moved up the ranks in his gang. I lose parts of him constantly. This was bound to happen someday.
I should have prepared better for the inevitable.
“Do you feel a little better?” Terrell asks.
I almost forget where I am again.
“Yeah, I do, thanks,” I say, just wanting to get home. He smiles at that, and dimples appear in his cheeks. They really suit him.
“Good, I was worried for you.”
