Second Chances
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DOMINIC
"You got it, Dominic?"
I placed my bag over my shoulder and took careful steps towards the door.
"I'm good, Coach," I sighed— my body was stiff; I needed to get back in the gym as soon as I could. ".. thank you for this."
"Of course, Dominic," He said. "The moment I got the call— I was a damn mess to say the least."
I scoffed, "I won't die that easy, Coach— I can't."
I could feel the tightness in my side from the stitches— I was still not used to it to this degree. Dr. Maddox told me in about a week or so I'd be able to get them removed.
"I'm taking you to my place for now— until things calm down at least." Coach Trevor muttered.
"What do you mean?" I questioned.
"You haven't watched the news?"
"No.. been avoiding it in all honestly."
"Well.. shit," He scratched his chin with an exhale. ".. Dominic your name is public now— it got leaked."
Oh.
It was bound to happen after the incident— I knew that.
And I didn't care anymore about it, but what I did care about was the fact that Roselyn would find out from someone that wasn't me. And the media? That was by far the worst source.
I should have just said it that day.
It didn't matter if I interrupted her, or who was in the room I should have just—
"— Dominic? Hey," Coach Trevor murmured— snapping his fingers in front of my face. ".. are you alright? You zoned out for a minute."
I nodded, "Yeah I'm fine— I knew it was gonna happen sooner or later."
I knew how the press worked.
Don't make eye contact, don't talk to them— don't give them anything.
When it came to my case the public were split back then; some thought I did what I had to, others thought I did it just because I wasn't right in the head— that there were other ways of going about it.
And there were— just not in that moment.
"Let's go," I scoffed. ".. the meds are already wearin' off."
Coach Trevor opened the door and waited for me so that we could walk together.
The officer who was stationed by my door gave me a slight nod as I left the room.
The recovery floor was quiet— some nurses smiled at me; others only stared.
"Don't worry about a job— things will work out for you." Coach attempted to create small talk.
"Everyones been saying that," I sighed as we reached the elevator. Coach pressed the down button. ".. I know I'll be alright financially— thats not my worry."
"Ya know what I want from you?" He huffed.
"And what is that?" I chuckled.
"I want you get out of that hotel and get yourself a one bedroom."
"What?"
"You've been through too much shit, Dominic," Coach sighed— he looked me in the eyes. ".. and I think you need some stability. Get an apartment, a car, and I don't know.. live."
The elevator opened and we walked inside.
Coach pressed the button for the first floor.
"Trust me, Coach, I've lived." I scoffed.
"How long have you been out?" He asked me.
"Just about two months.." I replied.
"You spent your entire early twenties in prison, Dominic— you may have expierienced things most people will never have to but thats not living." Coach Trevor explained while I held onto the rail at the sudden jolt of the elevator.
"I was spoiled for a long time, Coach," I murmured— pressing my lips into a firm line. ".. I had a shit childhood but it wasn't terrible I can admit that. I smiled a lot when I came to Manhatten— but I grew up. And my bullshit grew up with me."
It was quiet before Coach Trevor spoke again.
"Do you even know how to live, kid?"
I grimaced at that question— did I know how to live?
Of course I..
"Yeah." I said.
.. Do I?
The elevator came to a halt and the doors seperated after a moment.
I took slow steps out with Coach Trevor; I didn't know where the hell I was going since it had been so long.
Hospitals were always so quiet— as a child the eeriness really made my little head think.
When Valerie was born, that was probably the time I felt the most comfortable.
Nurses smiled at me, gave me stickers, and snacks— to them back then I was just a nervous, big brother. And when you compare that to the looks of sympathy and low whispers of today all I was was that long, forgotten Pierce boy.
"Mr. Pierce," I looked back to see a nurse approach me and Coach. It was the nurse that cared for me— Martha. ".. do you need security or anything? The paparazzi is pretty bad.." She asked me with concern written all over her face.
I shook my head. "I've dealt with this before, ma'am.. I'll be alright." I reassured.
"Okay— have good afternoon and take it easy." Martha reminded me.
I nodded and watched her walk away to go speak with another nurse.
I then walked around a corner to the main lobby where I could see that the entire entrance/exit of the hospital had paparazzi camping outside. The hospital security kept them from actually getting in but the closer Coach Trevor and I got the more flashes came from their cameras.
It was fine.
"Mr. Pierce, do you know why Roselyn Sawyer was attacked?!"
I hated paparazzi.
"Mr. Pierce, do you think your sentencing was fair?!"
Don't make eye contact.
"Have you visited Damian Pierce since you've been released? Are you aware your father has been in a comatose state since the incident, Mr. Pierce?!"
Don't answer any questions.
"Mr. Pierce, is Aury Pierce still committed to the mental institution? Have you seen her since your release?!"
I loathed paparazzi.
I sat in the passenger side of Coach's van.
My eyes had adjusted to the flashes of cameras by then— I looked over at him. I could tell he was trying to hurry out of the parking lot and start the car for my sake.
When it was Roselyn who had to deal with paparazzi head on I could control myself better, but they knew the right questions that would get under my skin. And the one about my Mama? I couldn't control the glare I had when I looked up— only for my face to be met with cameras.
If they got a good picture of that I expected it to be everywhere.
After Coach got us out of the parking lot it was calm again.
"Whose with Kirsten?" I asked him to break the silence.
"Alexander," Coach hummed. ".. he keeps an eye on her most days when I'm busy."
"I'm glad she's doing better than when I left.. in a way." I said to myself.
"She's alive," Coach mumbled quietly. ".. but all my daughter can do is lift her fingers, raise her brows, and blink. She's twenty-five. She grew up to be so beautiful— I can only imagine how much more beautiful she would've been if nothing happened. She may never get married, she'll never have children— she'll be under my care until time checks me out. She's alive but she'll never live."
I touched my side carefully— I could feel the thick bandage through my shirt that covered my stitches.
"Second chances aren't for everyone, Dominic," He added on— the homes becoming familiar as we started to reach his neighborhood. ".. but you got one. All I want for you to do is use it right, kid."
I nodded slowly, "I want to— I'm going to."
I didn't know where to find Valerie; I know she didn't care to find me either.
I looked up her name on social media, Google, but since she was a minor when everything happened the legal system kept her name out of pretty much any lead.
The only thing I got were old ass articles and Facebook posts from before the incident— even one from the day she was born.
"Was Kirsten ever supposed to make it this far?" I asked.
Coach chuckled, "You don't know how many times I was 'advised' to pull the plug. But I knew I could and would never do it— not unless she was in pain or brain-dead."
I watched Coach Trevor park his van by the side walk. He turned it off and fumbled for his house key while I took my time getting out.
I needed to take my pills again— my side was sore and aching.
I looked up at Coach Trevors house— I hadn't been here in years.
"You need help up the stairs, Dominic?" He asked.
I shook my head and held onto the railing as I made my way onto the porch. Nothing changed. The cracks in the cement, the potted plants, and the tilt in the number 2 of their adress that was nailed next to the front door. I wasn't at this house often but I still remembered the little things with ease.
I knocked on the front door as Coach came up after me with the keys. After a moment the locks twisted and I met eyes with Alexander— he smiled, "Hello sir! And Coach.. do you need any help? Oh! Kirstens in her bedroom."
I nodded at Alexander and he stepped to the side to let us in. I said, "Thanks Alexander but I'll be alright— Coach, the same spare room by your office?"
Coach Trevor sighed, "You know it."
I smiled at that and went to go wonder a bit. The furniture was newer and there were more paintings and such. But the same trophies sat on the same shelves and the same photos hung on the same walls.
As much as I was interested in looking around my side was killing me— but before I took my pills and crashed out I had to see one person.
I walked down a hall closest to the staircase— after her injury Coach moved her room downstairs and closer to his.
The door was cracked open and still that same bright yellow; on it was painted in cursive letters 'Kiki's Room'.
"Hey Kiki." I muttered with a slight wave.
She in her wheelchair close to her bed— her eyelids looked heavy yet when she heard my voice they opened wide.
I sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh and set my bag on the floor.
I muttered, "Your Dad told you I'd be here for a few days, right? I won't bother you.. I'll be gone before you know it."
Her almond eyes stared at me— she had so much life in them. That much was obvious.
"Kiki," I groaned and ran my hands down my face. ".. how'd we get here? Fucking fuck— I had so many chances and I lost Every. Single. One. yet.. somehow.. it's not all my fault. I could call myself unlucky but it doesn't feel right when there's you."
Kirsten blinked at that— her finger lifted as if to point at me. She used to always do that when she would tell me off.
Kirsten hated pity; I'm sure this was by far her worst nightmare— being taken care of for pretty much.. ever.
"I know.. I know," I sighed. ".. and I want to do it right— one time at least. I thought prison was something like being near death— it's not.. being near death is like a referee countin' down and everyone's yellin' at you to get up.. but the idea of just givin' in feels so fucking good."
Kirsten's room was still somewhat the same, it was bright and overbearing. Which was different— we were both twenty-five yet this exact moment made me feel sixteen again.
"But I'm done with that— I hurt too many people I love by doing that," I paused and reached over to hold her hand. Too frail for Kirsten but her skin felt the exact same calloused it used to be. I gave it a gentle squeeze. ".. I only have three real friends— two of them are old as hell.. and then there's you. You're my friend, Kiki— you get it.. I know you get it more than anyone." I told her with a slight chuckle.
Silence— that was almost all Kirsten could give me. Until I felt the faintest squeeze back.
I looked at her with raised brows and I could see the corner of her lips start to twitch.
Just like the squeeze it was quick and faint— very slightly the corners of her mouth curled into a small smile.
And it was gone as quick as it came.
I didn't make a big deal of it and instead just smiled back to let her know that I seen it and that she did it.
"I'm going to find my little sister— wherever she is," I murmured as I dug around my pockets. ".. I know exactly who to call too, Kiki."
Kirsten watched me curiously— I went to my contacts and clicked the name. The line actually rang and I was surprised I hadn't been blocked by now.
".. You have one minute then I'm hangin' up—"
"— Alistair, do me one favor— you say no and I won't try again," I said simply. ".. just help me find my sister, man."
2,239 words
Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness
If I kept up with my scheduale this story would be over by now! TOO BAD