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Rellik(20)

By:Teresa Mummert


“I’m touched you care.” I pulled it from my mouth and flipped it over in my hand. “I haven’t lit one in six months. I like knowing I can if I want to.”

“So you’re spoiled. Used to always getting what you want.”

“No.” I shook my head as I broke the cigarette in half and glanced over at her. “Not always.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure I said it back there, but thank you for helping me.”

“It’s not easy to admit we need help sometimes. I get it.” I knew it was hard for her to say the words. She was damn near as stubborn as I was.

“But I was rude. It wasn’t fair.”

“Christ, I think I liked it better when you were mean. Why the change?”

“Not used to people being nice to you?”

“Not genuinely. They usually want something in return. I kind of like this whole bitchy thing you had going on.” We fell silent as I thought that over. There was less guilt when she didn’t like me.

“So, being in a band? That’s kind of crazy, huh?”

“It sounds a lot better than it is. I like what I do, and I never wanted…uh…never wanted to do anything else.” My eyebrows pulled together, and I swallowed hard as I struggled to keep my thoughts at bay. “But it’s work, like anything else. It’s lonely.”

“Still, must be nice to get to do what you love.”

“Love.” I cringed, struggling to keep a pained expression from my face, but the back door opened, and Hangman stuck his head outside. “It’s just a job.”

“We gotta go, man.” Hangman let the door slam behind him, and my gaze fell to Ella.

“You okay? We can stay out here if you want.”

“Why doesn’t it bother you about, you know, what you did to that guy?”

“It does bother me.”

“You can’t tell.”

“No offense, but you don’t know me, Ella. Beating up some asshole for manhandling a woman doesn’t rank on my list of things to give a shit about. It bothers me, but not for the reason it should.” I turned back around to the door, pulling it open for her.

“I just want to make sure you’re one of the good guys.” She stepped inside, and I followed behind her.

“I’m not.” Ella’s resemblance to Katie was kicking my mind into overdrive. It was like she was the blade on my veins, and every second was a push against my flesh.

* *

“You don’t need to handcuff him. He’s a good kid!” My mom was panicking as tears streamed down her face. “Do something!” Mr. Thomas had his arm around her.

“I can assure you this is just a case of boys roughhousing,” he said. “Let me call Bryce’s parents. I’m sure we can work this out on our own.”

The officer clicked the cuff in place around my left wrist and sighed with frustration. “Your son assaulted another boy, fracturing his jaw in two places and leaving a two-inch gash in the back of his head. We take that very seriously. He could have killed him.”

“He’s not my dad,” I snapped, but when my eyes met my mother’s, she flinched. It wasn’t enough her only son stood before her, handcuffed and covered in someone else’s blood. I had insulted her on top of everything.

“What would your father think?” Her words seared through me like a scalding knife. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care what anyone thought as long as Katie was safe.

“What do you care, Ma? You sure as hell didn’t care what he thought when you were off screwing my guidance counselor behind his back. Bryce deserved what he got. Dad didn’t.”

My mother’s face twisted in horror. “Your father died in someone else’s car.” Her sobs fell on deaf ears. I never forgot that my mom and Mr. Thomas told me they ate at the same restaurant at the time of his accident.

“And now you get to live with someone else,” I yelled.

* *

I watched as Ella made her way down the hallway toward the kitchen, and I went back to grab my guitar before meeting the band at the stage.

The guys were pacing the floor when I returned, and we were rushed onto the stage. The building was packed, and the DJ had already stayed a half hour later than he was paid for.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Phantom was by my side as I walked toward the stage.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not.” He stepped in front of me and placed his hand on my chest to stop me from continuing on. “I’m worried about the band and that girl.”

“She was fucking attacked. I couldn’t just leave her alone.”

“You could have. You should have. She’s not Katie.”