Red stains his white fur and darkens the black, and the dog limps and whines.
“Thor,” I say, and a lump forms in my throat when he jerks his head in my direction. His dark eyes beg me to help.
“You came back for a dog?” Jeremy chides.
I did, because that’s the guy I’ve become—the one who leaves nobody behind.
“You know I’m going to kill you,” he says.
Did the math on that one already. I hold my arms out to my sides as I slowly step closer to where Thor, my damn brave dog, is still trying to make a stand. “Then do it.”
Jeremy gestures toward Thor. “That mutt mean something to you, then?”
There’s an ache in each breath as there’s a sickening realization of where this is headed. Jeremy wants to hurt me, and he’s sick enough to use the dog to do it. “Just kill me. End this and leave everyone else alone.”
“Sure,” he says. “Right after you watch as I kill the dog.”
Jeremy aims the gun at Thor, and I jump low, tackling Jeremy at the waist, ramming him into the ground. The gun goes off, and the bang’s so close that my ears ring. Beneath me, Jeremy flips as he struggles to crawl in the sinking mud for the gun.
I have a fighting chance. Both of my arms wrap around his stomach, and I lift him, rolling us away from the gun. Jeremy lands on top, and before I can shove him off, he lands a punch to my face. My head moves with the impact, and as he goes to reload, I snap out, grab his wrist, hold his arm steady in the air and uppercut him straight in the nose.
Blood gushes, Jeremy loses focus. Pushing past my throbbing fist and face, I strike again, a hook to his head and side. He goes limp, and I kick him off. He grunts, and I’m off for the gun.
Blinding pain in my leg, I yell out, then fall to the ground. A glance back and a stick protrudes from my calf. Mud cakes my body, my arms, slows me as if I’m stuck in concrete. Jeremy staggers past me. He can’t get the gun. He’ll kill me, kill Thor, hurt my sister.
I grab a hold of his ankle and twist. He goes down, but angles his body to kick his other foot into my head. Stars. I see stars and sound muffles out long enough that I start to wonder if I’ve been dragged into the water and I’m drowning.
A high-pitched yelp from Thor. I scratch and claw through the haze and blink the double vision away. Thor’s dragging himself on three legs toward me, toward Jeremy.
Jeremy army-crawls through the muck, reaches out his hand and grabs the gun. My heart pounds in my chest, nausea rolls in my stomach, and I think of Elle. She has to know I love her. She has to hold and remember that.
Thor whines. I push with my feet to meet him as Jeremy stands and aims the gun. I snatch Thor, cradle him to my chest, roll to protect him, close my eyes and—
“Drop the gun! Hands up! Police! Drop the gun!”
Ellison
I burst through the doors, and my heart is so heavy, I can barely stay upright. Since receiving the call from Holiday, I feel like someone has been playing a sickening game of pinball in my chest. They’re all there in the waiting room, and seeing them brings such a stark and striking realness to her words over the phone that tears immediately prick my eyes.
“She’s here.” Axle stands, and Holiday turns away from the shelter of Dominic’s body to look at me. Mascara streaks down her face, and her lower lip trembles.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks. I falter and wrap my arms around my stomach as the sight of her in pain doubles me over. “This is my fault. All of this is my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Where is he?”
“Down the hallway. Fourth door on your right,” Axle says, and the pure sadness, the devastation in his eyes causes me to turn quickly away. “He doesn’t have much time, Elle. Drix needs you strong. Kellen’s with him now.”
Ignoring the nurse behind the desk, ignoring anyone else I pass, I go down the hallway, and when I reach the door, I pause. My hand touching the wood because this isn’t how I wanted it to end. This is exactly how I didn’t want it to end. There’s so much love overflowing in my heart, and when I open this door, that love is going to hurt.
In these short few months, I never knew I could feel so much joy and experience so much pain. But this is living. This is breaking out of the shell my parents created, being more than the paper doll so carefully crafted.
Life isn’t running the short and flat open plane. It’s climbing the tallest mountain with only my fingertips, and once reaching the top, discovering that this mountain’s not the end. It’s just the start and that the way down to the next mountain is long and hard.
But even with what lies behind this door, it’s worth it. This love, it has been worth it—even if I’m losing a piece of my heart in the process.
I twist the knob, open the door, and Drix’s eyes meet mine. Tears swim in them, but they don’t fall down his face. He’s stoic, yet radiates pain. His back is propped up against the wall, he reclines on a bench seat and in his lap is a blanket and in that blanket is a ball of fur.
My eyes drift to Drix’s leg that is bandaged and is stained with blood. Then I’m scanning everywhere, and it seems that every part of him is bloody and battered. “Oh my God, Drix.”
“Not me, him,” he whispers. “I’m going to live.”
Kellen eases past me and the door shuts with a click. All warmth is stolen from me, and I collapse to my knees next to the bench. I gingerly touch Thor’s head. He struggles to open his eyes, and when he sees me, his pink tongue slowly sticks out as if he meant to greet me with a kiss. “Is he in pain?”
“No.” Drix’s voice is hoarse. “They’ve given him something to help. The vet says he’s not feeling anything.”
My throat closes shut, and though I try to fight it, a tear slips down my cheek. “Why can’t they save him?”
“Maybe he could have survived the first bullet, but not the second. The police came, and when I heard them call on Jeremy to get on his knees, I loosened my grip, and Thor wiggled out. Jeremy shot him and...” Drix breaks off, and he hits the back of his head against the wall as if that will take away the pain. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect him better. I’m sorry.”
I wipe at my eyes, yet another tear falls down. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Thor inclines his head into my touch, and I scratch him behind his ear. “There has to be something.”
Drix only shakes his head, and that heaviness is too much as I lower my head and kiss Thor. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more.”
A knock on the door and a woman with a white coat walks in. She has a soothing voice, a calm demeanor, explaining the extent of Thor’s wounds, explaining how it’s a matter of time, explaining how she recommends us ensuring that he doesn’t feel any pain. We both nod our heads, we both agree, and Drix is careful with Thor as he sits up, and we share our dog on our laps.
The vet prepares what she needs, and we both love on our dog. We both murmur words of comfort, words of love, and then the vet does what needs to be done. First Thor sleeps. Then Thor is in a forever sleep, and I weep.
One hand on my dog, another wrapped around Drix. He has one hand holding our dog, another one around me as he buries his head into the crook of my neck. His body shaking, wetness on my skin, and we hold on to each other and grieve.
Hendrix
At the reception area of the vet, there’s a candle the staff lights that alerts anyone coming in that a family is saying goodbye to their loved one. It’s a sign to keep their voices low, a sign that there are people who are losing a part of their soul. A gentle sign that there are people in the world who understand that not all loved ones and family members stand on two legs. Some stand on four, some are just as loved as any flesh and blood human, and most, if not all, love better than most humans ever can in return.
Because seeing that candle flickering for m
e and Elle as we left Thor behind meant so much to both of us, Elle strikes a match and lights a candle in Holiday’s room. She watches the flame as if maybe it can heal her heart. If it works, I’ll watch that flame all night.
Or should I say day. Sunlight cracks through broken clouds, and I shut the blinds. After leaving the vet, Axle forced me to the ER. Took them a while to clean out the stick in my leg and to stitch me up. MRI for my head took time, as well. Elle stood by my side every step of the way. This one is strong. This girl is steel.
I drop onto the bed and rub my face. Protecting my leg, I took a half-ass shower, and I’m ready to sleep for the rest of my life. Elle’s also showered, her long hair damp across her shoulders. She wears one of Holiday’s tank tops and cotton shorts.
For what easily has to be the two hundredth time, her cell rings, and instead of placing the call into voice mail like she typically has, she powers it off, drops it to the floor and stomps the hell out of it. It’s crazy, but it sure as hell isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen in twenty-four hours. “You okay?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Playing devil’s advocate, I say, “Your parents are probably scared. They’ve always known, or at least thought they’ve known, where you are, what you’re doing—”
“Then I guess they’ll figure out how I felt when I asked them to help you, and Dad initially refused.”
I raise my eyebrows as Elle’s only told me a CliffsNotes version of the events from her side. I want to know more, but I’m too damn tired and Elle’s eyes are red from crying, and those dark circles under them are so heavy I’m surprised she’s standing. We can talk the sick details later. “Are you going to be mad at them forever?”
“How about I be mad at them for now, and I’ll figure the rest out anytime that is not now. All I know is that I’m with you, I’m not sneaking around anymore, and I’m not letting anyone control me. As of last night, my life became my own, and right now, I want to sleep.”
“Fair enough.” I lie back on the bed, and I never remember a pillow feeling so soft.
It’s going to be a few days until I can climb the ladder back to my bed, so Holiday volunteered to switch. She’s heartbroken, and I hugged her and told her it wasn’t her fault. I also told her I loved her, and I thanked her for having the courage to call Elle for help when no one else did. My sister sobbed then, and I let her. All of us have too many tears we’ve haven’t shed over the years, and it’s time we start releasing the pain.
Holding it in isn’t working for any of us, and we need to start focusing on each other. Hate hasn’t been working out too well either. We’ve got nothing to lose by trying love.
I stretch out my arm toward Elle, she accepts and lies down on the bed beside me, but that’s not nearly close enough for either of us. She flips and molds herself around me, delicately moving as to not press too hard on any of my bruises or wounds.
No painkiller could bring the peace that having her soft body next to mine could bring. No drug, no drink, no other man-made substance can ease all the aches and chaos in my life. Elle is a gift, and it’s time I learn how to accept all the serenity she brings to me.
My hand weaves into her hair, I gently knot my fingers into it, and I kiss the top of her head that’s resting on my chest. I breathe in her sweet scent and close my eyes. Home. I’m finally home.
“I miss him,” Elle whispers.
A flash of an ache in my chest. “Me, too.”
“Thank you for giving him a home.”
She has it wrong. “He gave me a home. Thor saved me.” In more ways than I can count. The police officer told me he thought Thor was struggling free to go after Jeremy. Another said that last bullet was meant for me and that Thor threw himself into the path of it, but I blink away the burn as I can’t think too much about any of that yet.
“He was loved,” she says. “There’s so many in life who aren’t.”
So true. Even for humans. “You saved me, too, Elle. Thank you.”
“I told you before, your life is worth saving. Always has been and it will always be.” Elle lifts her head, caresses her fingers across my face, and she kisses my lips. “I love you.”
I love her, too. More than words. More than thought. More than anyone can comprehend. I kiss her in return, a slow movement, and then shift so I somehow fill the slight centimeters between us. The sweet kiss ends, Elle settles her head back on my chest, and wrapped in each other’s arms, we sleep.
Ellison
I wear a light gray suit with a fitted white blouse and black flats. My hair is twisted into a bun, but not one of my patented messy ones. This one is slick, makes me look older and wiser than eighteen, and it’s the exact opposite of what my mother’s stylist suggests I should wear for the press conference. Several photographers have mumbled between each other about my glasses. They’re just jealous because I make glasses sexy, and it must suck to not be me.
But the media forgot about me. My mother stands onstage with my father, behind him in a dark blue dress. I stand in the back of the press conference. Everyone assumes I’m here in support, but I’m not. I’m present to make sure my father upholds his end of the deal...blackmail...forceful persuasion. I’m not too picky on how we call this as long as Drix’s name is cleared.
My father comes across as strong and confident as he speaks. Extremely passionate about how when he discovered new evidence that Drix didn’t commit the crime that he decided to dedicate himself to helping Drix be exonerated.
But events moved too rapidly, the real culprit learned on the streets that Drix was on the road to proving his innocence, so my father brought in the police. That one act saved Drix’s life. Bile just crawled up my throat at the utter disgust of how he corrupted the truth.
What is the truth anyway? The truth that my father was prideful? Full of fear? Would that truth possibly protect the program that saved Drix’s life? No, my father’s cowardice would have definitely cost something much needed in the world.
As my father speaks, there’s a shifting of the media’s mood. A winding of a spring, a sprinkling of blood into water full of sharks. They’re circling, waiting for the toe to be dipped in so they can attack.
It’s a dark sensation, and I rub my arms as if the negativity is a fine ash and soot physically on my skin. My father reiterates how successful the Second Chance Program is, how even if asked, Hendrix Pierce, even though he served time for a crime he didn’t commit, will explain to the world how he was on the wrong path and that the program saved his life.
Dad pauses, then steels himself for the coming attack. “I’ll now take questions from press.”
Hands up, people yelling over the other, and their pure glee of something going wrong, at the hint of a scandal, turns my stomach. There’s something terribly wrong with a world that finds joy in other people’s mistakes and pain.
Sickened by the sharp teeth and slick tongues surrounding me, the media and my father included, I leave. Out the door, away from the dark room and head for another door that leads me to sunlight. In the back of the parking lot, Drix must be feeling rebellious as he leans against the hood of my car. The plan was for him to stay in my car so that the media wouldn’t hound him, but he’s probably not as daring as I think. The meat of the story to be feasted upon is inside. Drix, at the moment, is the heart of the story, so of course, no one gives a damn about heart.
Seeing me, Drix widens his stance, and I settle in to hug him between his legs. My head on his shoulder and his arms around my body is enough to wipe away the sludge being in that room created in my veins. I close my eyes and breathe out.
I’ve lost my home, lost my family, lost my way, but the one thing I’ve found is where I belong, and it’s here, with Drix.
“It’s done.” I lift my head and stare into his chocolate-brown eyes. “My father has told the world you’re innocent.”
> He closes his eyes briefly, then he looks down at me and caresses my cheek. “I’m sorry it’s cost you so much.”
I lean into his hand as I love his warmth and his strength. “It hasn’t cost me a thing. It broke chains I didn’t even know were killing me.”
“What now?” he asks.
“Besides changing clothes and getting something to eat?” I shake my head as I honestly have no idea.
The first hint of a smile touches his mouth. “I can’t remember the last time I ate.”
My stomach growls, and I frown as I think the same thing. “What do you want?”
“There’s this place off of Third Street. Has great burgers. Want to try?”
One eyebrow goes high above my bang line. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
A sloppy shrug of one shoulder. “Guess so.”
A date, in public. It’s like a caterpillar has broken out of its cocoon, has unfurled its wings for the first time, and the movement is a fantastic fluttering in my chest.
“If you want to wait a few weeks to be seen in public with me,” he starts, but I place a finger over his lips to silence him.
“No, a hamburger sounds fantastic, but to be honest, I would really love some chicken wings.”
Drix chuckles, I smile along with him, and his hands come up from my waist to frame my face. I melt into a puddle when he kisses me.
Hendrix
October
I’m in the recliner and Elle sits on my lap. My arms are wrapped around her, but I have yet to breathe for the last ten minutes. I have a new appreciation for Elle and what her life has been like in the public eye. When I joined the campaign trail last May, I thought I understood, but I didn’t. Now, watching myself on TV, I feel like an alien in my own body.
Elle lays her hand over mine that are locked around her stomach. I’m on that national news show that appears on Sundays with the ticking clock. They approached me after I began advocating publicly for the Second Chance Program to be given, ironically, a second chance. Right now, the program is on hold, and its funding being threatened.