I THOUGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED SINCE IH AD MET HIM IN THE HALLWAY AFTER 3RD PERIOD. IT HAD ALL HAPPENED SO FAST. FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS, ID LIVE MY LIFE IN A NORMAL WAY, CRUISING ALONG A COURSE THAT SEEMED SO PEACEFUL, SOMEWHAT PREDICTABLE, T...
I just kept my eyes trained on my mom's heels until I heard Dave's voice cutting through the noise, instantly refocusing me. After that tense moment when my dad agreed to go see Khalil, I kinda blanked out until we got in the car. The news crews didn't follow us that far, as they all stopped to pose and give their wrap-up for the anchor desk. The second the doors were closed, Mom was already telling Dad to just drive us straight home. I opened my door and stepped back out.
"What are you doing?! Get back in here!" Mom snapped her fingers as she glared back at me from the front passenger seat.
"I'm going to the hospital," I stated bluntly. "If you're not, then I'll find a way." I vaguely recalled being told my car was impounded as evidence and it would be several days at least before I could get it back. I would take a cab.
She glared at me for a moment then rolled her eyes. "Ok, goddammit! We'll go to the damn hospital."
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We rode in deafening silence, each of us stewing in our own thoughts. I have no idea why Dad chose not to take the freeway. Every stoplight took all fucking day long to change and every car in front of us seemed to be driving five miles an hour. It was the longest ride of my life. My palms were sweaty and my heart just never quite slowed down to a normal rate. Each thunderous beat echoed in my head, making it impossible to concentrate on much of anything.
The images just kept swirling around; of Khalil collapsing, the blood, holding his limp body in my arms and that bottomless feeling of hopelessness.
Running after the pickup and diving in, feeling the white-hot rage consuming me; the look of terror in that last guy's eyes before I jerked him down and started in on him, like I was avenging every senseless act of brutality ever committed-- by being brutal myself.
Staring down the barrel of the gun pointed right between my eyes with the cop's finger on the trigger while his other hand steadied it, knowing that with the slight flex of a finger, even an accidental twitch, it would all be over.
Getting handcuffed and read my rights in front of all those people. Being fingerprinted and questioned, then sitting in a jail cell with all those criminals. Talking to my freaked out Dad on the phone, then trying to calmly tell the whole story to Dan Strickland. Getting blasted by Mom in front of the entire HPD and hitting right back with a boldness I never thought I had in me. Having news cameras and reporters grilling us like I'd only ever seen on TV... Everything just completely overwhelmed me.
I seriously thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown any moment. My hands were shaking something fierce and I couldn't stop them even when I clenched my sore fists. Everything was falling apart. My life was racing headlong into oblivion and I knew there was just no stopping this train.
