"But I'd whisper that I love this man
Now and for forever to your soul as it floats out of the window
To the world that you turned your back on
To the world that never really let you be"
- "Blackberry Stone" by Laura Marling -
*****
⚠️TW: blood, violence, realistic portrayal of IED
*****
Tyson
It's been nearly three weeks since Stacy took refuge with me, and my parents have been increasingly on edge. However, Stacy and I devised a strategy: she feigns ongoing communication with me from "somewhere", and I regularly share screenshots of our chats with my parents. This ruse averts the need for them to report her missing, sparing us all from police involvement and any intervention from Stacy's school. Yet, it's apparent that my parents remain unconvinced of Stacy's safety.
Strangely enough, I find myself oddly drawn to the disruption Stacy's rebellious streak brings to our family dynamic.
In the wake of their previous oversight of Stacy's well-being, my parents have shown a newfound receptivity toward her now that she's "missing". Even Stacy has begun to engage with them through messaging little by little, assuring them of her welfare.
While they may not always see eye to eye, I'm grateful they never skimp their parental duties. Their willingness to set aside their ego for the sake of Stacy's safety speaks volumes. Consequently, with Stacy's recent warmth following the end of her period, I propose she join me tonight at the stadium to watch me practice, offering her a welcome diversion where she doesn't have to be cooped up alone in my apartment.
Initially, Stacy wishes to explore the city's nightlife, hoping to capture some snapshots with her phone (since she forgot to bring her camera). However, her paranoia kicks in, dissuading her from venturing out as she frets over potential muggings or other misfortunes.
Or, alternatively, perhaps she simply yearns to spend time with her brother but is hesitant to admit it openly.
Whatever the underlying reason is, Stacy's demeanor has softened lately. She even now willingly occupies the shotgun seat, instead of sulking in the middle seat. Still, though Coach Fullard just invited her to observe our practice from the dugout, Stacy declined, opting for a seat in the stands instead. Her decision leaves me grappling with her inner workings. It's as if she grants me fleeting glimpses into herself, only to snatch them away when I draw near.
As my teammates and I engage in rigorous drills on the field, my attention strays to Stacy seated in the stands. Engrossed in her phone yet occasionally casting glances our way, a faint smile graces her lips when she sees me staring at her.
Yet, I can't help but ask myself: is she truly finding solace in this respite from her troubles, or is she merely donning a facade to allay my concerns? The uncertainty gnaws at me, distracting me from the practice as I grapple with the truth behind her facade.
During a water break, I seize the opportunity to approach Stacy. As I draw near, she looks up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. "Hey, Ty," she greets me, slipping her phone away. "How's practice?"
"It's going well," I respond with a smile, settling beside her. "But I'm more interested in how you're doing, Stace. You're acting... different lately."
A fleeting flicker of apprehension crosses Stacy's features before she masks it with a casual shrug. "I guess I'm just not... moody anymore, you know?"
"If you say so. But you can be straight with me, you know?" I say gently, probing her eyes for any glimmer of truth.
Stacy hesitates, her gaze faltering to her lap before lifting to meet mine again. "Honestly, Ty, I'm still trying to figure things out myself," she admits quietly. "I know I was bitchy when I showed up out of the blue at your apartment. Sorry." Her smile falters, and she looks down, her demeanor shifting.
I nod. "Yeah, you were. But I get it, Stace. Must've been rough for you."
Stacy looks away with a bitter laugh. "You have no idea. You think running away is an easy choice?" Her brows knit together, and she fixes me with a sharp gaze. "I'm so sick of being alone in that house, listening to Mom and Dad go at it over every little thing. And you? You're off at college, living it up, making memories, blah blah blah! And me? I'm stuck there, dealing with their shit day in and day out, pretending I'm fine because every time I try to tell you what's really going on, I feel like a shitty, useless, ungrateful sister for even thinking about dumping my problems on you!"
Her words strike me like a blow to the chest. I hadn't realized the extent of her struggles at home, the loneliness she must have felt without me. "Stace, I... I had no clue," I murmur, my throat tightening.
Stacy scoffs again, her eyes now ablaze with pent-up anger. "Of course, you're clueless," she snaps. "You're too caught up in your freedom to notice that I was suffocating back there. You never even bother to text me first! It's always me reaching out to you!"
Her accusation lands like a ton of bricks, guilt pressing on my shoulders. But it's not entirely fair; every time I do reach out and ask how she's doing, she lies. Claims everything's fine. Pretends she's coping. Insists that Mom and Dad's arguments are just routine. "That's not fair, because every time I do ask, you lie!"
"Didn't you hear why I lied? It's because I give a damn about you, you idiot!" Stacy's cheeks flush crimson, tears shimmering in her eyes.
"Give a damn? Then why'd you up and go without a word, leaving me freaking out about you, only to suddenly pop back up?!" I fire back, frustration boiling over.
Stacy's mandible clenches, her fists tight at her sides. "Because I needed a break from everything! Can't you see that out of everyone, I chose to take a damn break with you?!" She scoffs bitterly. "But, oh well! Look at you wanting to take a break from me right now! Look at me, ruining your important football practice! Regretting proposing me to come here and watch you practice, brother?"
I clench my mandible, frustration fueling my words as I rise from the seat. "You want me to see you? Fine! But how am I supposed to do that when you keep pushing me away, huh?!" My own anger bubbles under the surface. "You want my support, yet you won't fucking let me in!"
"Because every time I try, I feel like I'm wrecking your perfect little life, Tyson!" Stacy's voice trembles, tears pooling in her eyes. "I envy you so much, okay? I envy that you can escape from all this, and you're not stuck in that hellhole with me! You think when I ran away to Samuel's dorm because I was just mad at you? No, Tyson! I was also fucking lonely! I was craving your attention! Because no one in this family seems to give a fuck about me until something happens to me! And the period cramps? They weren't even that painful! It was just a convenient excuse so you'll do something for me! But no, you don't! And to admit this right in front of your face? This is fucking humiliating, Tyson!"
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, leaving me momentarily speechless. "Stace, I..." But the words catch in my throat.
"Remember when Samuel told you to ask me why I never borrowed your car? Since I'm already embarrassing myself, might as well tell you why I always call a Lyft or take the bus, right? Well, it's because I lied about being able to drive cars, Tyson! Why? Because I was fucking abandoned by Mom, by Dad, and you! Nobody teaches me anything but to suck things up! How about teaching me how not to be pathetic? Now look at you all, suddenly taking an interest in me now that I'm a problematic teenage girl!"
Before I can say something else, Coach Fullard's booming voice interrupts us. "Bowyers! Git yer ass back on the field, we ain't done yet!" Glancing around, I realize our argument has drawn the attention of the entire team. Turning back to Stacy, I see her hastily wiping her eyes, avoiding my gaze. I speak softly, "We'll talk later, okay?" But Stacy remains silent.
With Coach Fullard's reminder of our duties, I reluctantly tear myself away from Stacy. Returning to the field, I steal a glance at her still perched there, staring blankly ahead, not even touching her phone. She just sits, like she's weary of running away. Despite the guilt gnawing at me, I know I have to focus on the task at hand.
About half an hour later, I catch sight of Stacy making a sudden exit from the stadium. Without a second thought, I brief Coach Fullard of the situation, who promptly gives me the go-ahead to tail her. Dashing into the parking lot, my eyes scan the area until they fall on Stacy, wrapped in an embrace with someone shorter, clad in jeans and a pink sweater. Squinting through the dimness, I quickly recognize the figure as Samuel.
"Samuel?" My voice jolts Stacy, spinning her towards me, clearly caught off guard. Samuel remains with his arm draped around her slender frame.
Are they secretly seeing each other behind my back? Samuel and my sister?
I approach them, my brow creasing in concern. "Mind telling me what I'm seeing?" It's not that I'm furious if Stacy is indeed involved with him; rather, I feel a stab of betrayal knowing she prefers Samuel as her confidant rather than me, her brother, who's been striving to earn her trust, even refraining from confronting her about her vaping habit.
Nevertheless, my brotherly instincts kick in, stirring suspicions about their covert rendezvous. Despite wrestling with guilt for entertaining such notions, a part of me can't shake the feeling that Samuel might be exploiting Stacy's vulnerable state.
My suspicions quickly fade as Samuel releases Stacy, his expression irritated. "To answer your question, what you're seeing is trust." Then, he murmurs softly to Stacy before motioning for her to step aside. He then strides closer to me, our bodies merely inches apart. "In case you haven't noticed, Stacy's been meeting me in secret behind your back."
Samuel's words cause Stacy's face to flush deeply. "Did you really have to say that in front of me?"
Samuel briefly turns his gaze toward her. "It's better than giving the impression that I'm trying to date you, Stace." He lets out a frustrated sigh, returning his attention to me. "So no, Tyson, Stacy and I aren't a thing, like you're clearly implying. But ever since you entrusted her with me, and ever since she's been staying with you, she only has you and me in this town. And you're busy. Plus, you guys have issues that I'd rather not get involved in. But Stacy needs someone, so one day she reaches out to me. And since I'm not heartless enough, I agree to be there for her. As for the secret meetings, that's her request, not mine. And that's why I'm laying it all out for you here, right in front of Stacy and you, so you two will be forced to talk about it more after this."
Glancing at Stacy, who has buried her face in her paws, I return my gaze to Samuel. "How long has this been going on?"
Samuel sighs, sounding unimpressed. "Seriously, that's the question you're asking?" He stares at me expectantly, and I meet his gaze in resolution. "Since the day she went to the pharmacy alone, Tyson."
"So you're saying she's been running away from the apartment while she's still technically running away from home?"
"Running away? I'd rather say taking a breather." Samuel lifts his paw and pats my shoulder, catching me off guard. "And I think you should get back to practice. In the meantime, I'll stay here with Stacy. We'll be inside the stadium later." He then lets go and promptly returns to Stacy's side.
With the conversation abruptly ending, my mind struggles to process everything as I mechanically make my way back to my team. Coach Fullard's face brightens as he spots me, and I force a smile at him. "How're you feelin', son?" He approaches me, draping an arm around my shoulders as he guides me towards the dugout.
"Better, I suppose."
"It's been a good while since I seen a fuss that fired up, Bowyers. And you bein' the one stirrin' it up is the last thing I figured on seein'. But your head's still sittin' square on them shoulders, ain't it?"
"Sure, Coach. Just a minor... inconvenience?"
"Attaboy! Now back to the others! I'm only waiting for you. We're gonna talk about the playbook. Gotta keep 'em feet moving forward, yeah?" With a pat on my back, he gives me a nudge, and I jog over to the dugout. Upon my arrival, I catch the team's attention and offer an apology for the disruption. "Sorry, guys, if, uh, things got me distracted, but we're here to prepare for the Spring Game. So gather 'round, Coach Fullard has something to say."
As the team huddles up, Coach Fullard wastes no time diving into the playbook discussion. However, beneath the surface, tension still lingers. The argument with Stacy, her clandestine rendezvous with Samuel, her envy... These thoughts weigh heavily on my mind. For now, all I can do is attempt to push them aside.
"Alright, fellas, let's talk offense," Coach Fullard's voice reverberates through the dugout, commanding attention. "We've been runnin' the same plays for the past few games, and while they've been doin' us good, reckon it's 'bout time we stir the pot a bit."
The mention of change prompts murmurs of skepticism from some players. Change can be unsettling, especially when it involves something as crucial as game strategy.
Or when it involves something as personal as sibling relationships, Tyson.
"We've been leanin' heavy on our passin' game, and while it's been holdin' up, I'm thinkin' it's gotten a tad predictable," Coach elaborates. "We're all well aware our rivals are startin' to get wise, and we gotta keep 'em on their toes. I'm thinkin' we fixin' to weave in some new run plays. We'll still be usin' our passin' game, but we gotta dig our heels in on the ground to keep the defense guessin'."
As the discussion progresses, I glance up at the stands and notice Stacy watching intently, her expression inscrutable until she quickly averts her gaze as soon as she realizes she's been caught staring. Beside her, Samuel takes a sip from his water bottle. Despite our differences, I know she's rooting for me, just as I'm rooting for her with whatever she's currently grappling with.
*****
Five days have passed since the drama-induced football practice, and ever since then, I've been nudging Stacy about practicing driving with me. Initially, she brushed it off, claiming she wasn't ready. However, after some persuasion, Stacy finally agreed to let me coach her the following day.
Now, here we are, amid the dead of night, into her third driving lesson. I suggest a route around Jardin des Fleurs, and I'm genuinely impressed by her adept control of the vehicle, traversing effortlessly along the road. When I broach the topic of her prior driving experiences, she hesitates, her demeanor betraying a hint of shyness. "Uh, well, the most I've driven is in Grand Theft Auto. You know, first-person mode. So... yeah," she admits with a tight, strained grin. Then, she adds, "And I've watched some videos about driving."
"Did Mom and Dad ever try to teach you? Or send you to a driving school?" I ask.
"Nah," she replies matter-of-factly. "I gave up asking them too. It's... It gets exhausting." Her voice trails off.
In an attempt to boost her confidence, I offer a reassuring smile. "Well, I have to admit, you're handling it better than I did when Dad dragged me out for my first driving lesson. Your maneuvers are crazy smooth."
Stacy manages a feeble smile in return, her claws trembling slightly on the steering wheel. "I still feel like I'm gonna screw up at any second."
I reach over and lay a paw on her shoulder. "Everyone feels that way when they're learning something new. But seriously, Stace, you're doing great. Just... take it one step at a time." As we continue our drive through the quiet streets, I guide Stacy through each turn and intersection, providing gentle reminders and encouragement along the way. Despite her initial apprehension, I can see her confidence growing with each successful maneuver.
"Alright, let's swing a left up ahead." I point towards the upcoming intersection. Stacy nods, her grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as she approaches the turn. "Keep your speed steady... Check those mirrors..." With a deep breath, Stacy steadies herself and begins to execute the turn. However, as she navigates through the intersection, I notice her veering slightly towards the opposite lane.
"Whoa, watch your positioning, sis. Keep to your side of the road." Stacy quickly corrects her course, her concentration evident as she focuses on maintaining proper alignment. "Keep moving forward... That's it..." As we complete the turn and continue along the road, I offer her a reassuring smile.
"See? Told you! You're doing far better than I was. Just trust yourself." As we approach the end of our lesson, I can't help but feel a sense of pride in my sister's progress. Despite her initial reservations, Stacy has shown a remarkable aptitude for driving, and I have no doubt that with continued practice, she'll become a confident and capable driver. But now it's almost 1 AM, and I have to conclude the lesson.
"Well, time to head back. Got a class early tomorrow. Plus the freaking pro bono thing. Now, come on, scoot over." I gesture, prompting Stacy to grumble as she begrudgingly shuffles to the middle seat while I slide into the driver's spot. Then, after a shuffle, Stacy settles into the front seat again, buckling up tightly at the shotgun. Guiding the car down the deserted road, Stacy suddenly pipes up, "Can we have a burger and shake first?"
I shoot her a sideways glance. "At this hour?"
"I'll foot the bill. Pretty please?"
Considering the request, I ultimately shake my head. "How about tomorrow?"
Stacy slumps in her seat, her shoulder drooping. "Fineee..."
Then, the silence inside the car drags on, accompanied only by the soft radio playing and the humming of the speeding car. Just when I begin to think Stacy has fallen asleep with her eyes shut, she suddenly speaks up, her voice cutting through the quietude.
"Tyson?"
I take a quick glance at her. "Yeah?"
Stacy erects herself in the seat, her eyes now wide open and fixed on me. "How did you get close to Samuel again?"
Unsuspecting the sudden interrogative nature of her question, my brain works its way not to spill too much. "Close is a strong word. And let's just say things changed."
"But how did things change, exactly?" Her gaze remains unwavering.
"Well, we crossed paths, actually. I had no idea Samuel was even coming to HU. And... things just progressed from there."
"I said change, Tyson, not begin. I remember you two... Well, not exactly chummy since... you know..."
My mandible tightens as guilt seeps in. "I haven't told you he was set up, huh? About the whole varsity jacket mess back then?"
On my periphery, I see Stacy's mouth slightly open, her brows knitting in confusion. "What... are you talking about?"
With a heavy sigh, I watch as we pass through an intersection. "You heard me. He got set up by one of my buddies, Jeb, and... I bought into it. Jeb was bragging about it at graduation, right in front of the others and me, and that's when I... cut ties with them. After graduation. Didn't even say a word."
"I've always hated that fucking gator." Stacy bites down on her cheek. "So... are you guys patching things up now?"
"Yeah. Sorta. At least, I hope so."
"But... you're only reconciling because you bumped into each other?"
As we wait at a red light, I shoot her a sideways glance. "I don't like where you're going with this, Stace. I'm doing my best, alright?"
But are you really?
"Going anywhere? If anything, I'm just glad you're trying. I know a thing or two about being bullied."
"Wait, are you being bullied at school?"
Stacy shakes her head, holding up her paws in defense. "Oh, no, not me. But someone else is. This poor cheetah girl. She's real pretty, but there's this nasty rumor going around about her having... a JustFans account. And unlike Samuel, hers is... proven."
I cringe, letting out a low groan. "That's awful."
"Yeah, people can be real hypocrites." Stacy sinks back into her seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "So, Samuel's forgiven you then?"
"Yeah... I think so. But it's a work in progress."
"I see." Stacy stares out at the passing buildings for a while, lost in thought. Eventually, she breaks the silence. "Hey, Ty."
I make a sound of acknowledgment.
"Remember when I said I envied you? Well, I wasn't being entirely fair. I'm sorry."
I turn to look at her, my expression softening. "It's okay to feel that way, you know? It's understandable."
"Maybe, but you deserve to have a life too, you know? Your time has come, and you have a future. You're the football golden boy. College is your chance to break free from all of this. So... Yeah, I guess I was just upset that you get to leave home sooner than I can. And I miss you a lot. And now I'm still stuck with Mom and Dad who's probably gonna be fuming once I return home."
"Hey, Mom and Dad are just like us, okay? Don't be too hard on them. I miss them too sometimes."
"Yeah, when they're not arguing, which they've been doing a lot more lately." Stacy shifts to face me. "I think having you around does help, though. You're not afraid to speak your mind. I just... shut down whenever they start arguing. You're the one who keeps them grounded, and I'm just sitting there, wishing they'd just stop. Not doing anything..."
"Don't be too hard on yourself too, Stace. You're still seventeen, figuring things out."
"So were you, Ty. I just wish I didn't have to run away for them to notice me. Or, well, for you to notice me." As soon as Stacy says that, my heart breaks.
"Well... I'm sorry. For forgetting that you have a life too. And for not being more available." I meet her gaze, offering a warm smile. "After this, when you're back home, I promise I'll check up on you more often. But you have to promise me you'll be honest, okay? I'm your brother. I love you, dude. Believe it or not."
Then, I tousle her hair, and she bats my paw away, laughing. "Cut it out, I'm not a kid."
Releasing her, I chuckle along. "Yeah, you're a teenager. Three more years until you're officially an adult. And four more until you can legally drink."
"The wildest thing I've done is run away from home or come back after midnight, you know?"
That's when I drop the bomb. "Are you sure? Because the last time I checked your purse, there was still a vape stick sittin' in there." Stifling a laugh, I turn to her and see her eyes widen.
"Wait, you knew?"
"You're not as sneaky as you think, punk."
Averting my attention back to the road, Stacy remains frozen, unsure of what to say. "Please don't tell Mom and Dad?"
"Don't worry, I won't." Suddenly, I roll down the passenger window, letting the cool spring air fill the car. "Hell, if you want a drag right now, go for it."
Stacy hesitates, her glance oscillating between the rolled-down window and me, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Then, out of nowhere, she lunges forward, wrapping me in a tight hug. "Oh my God, Ty, you're the best!"
"Yeah, yeah, but let me go now! I'm driving here!"
"Oh, right!" She retreats to her seat, quickly reaching for her purse on the footwell. Rifling through the content, a navy blue vape quickly perches between her claws, and without a second thought, she takes a drag of her vape, watching the smoke dissipate out of the car.
As we grow more comfortable with each other, Stacy suddenly asks, "Hey, um... Can I ask something?"
"What about?"
"Samuel? Again?"
I give her a nonchalant shrug. "What about him?"
"Since when does he smoke?"
Humming, I give her a knowing look. "I'm guessing you two have been sneaking smoke sesh behind my back too?"
Flushing, she nods, and I just let out a throaty chuckle. "I'm also asking because I thought both of you were pretty anti-smoking, though."
The car pulls up to my apartment building, and as we arrive, I nod to the security stationed at the entrance gate. "Yeah, well, things change. I just hope he doesn't go overboard. And I hope you don't either, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah."
Then, I confess, "I did try smoking my first semester here. Some of my friends and football buddies smoke. It just wasn't for me, I guess."
"Weak lungs."
"I think you forget I'm a QB, Stace."
"Show-off."
With that, I park the car, and we head inside the elevator, side by side. When we reach my apartment floor, we go through our nightly routines, and soon enough, Stacy's settled on the couch while I'm scrolling through my phone on the bed, thoughts swirling about Samuel's initial animosity toward me during our first encounter, to the point of his protective streak over my sister.
So much guilt...
Suddenly, I find myself on Samuel's private Pinstagram account, which I learned about from Matty one day. My claw hovers over the "Follow" button, my gaze flicking between the numbers of his 71 followers, 124 followings, 6 posts, and his profile picture where his paw is holding a rock with a smiley face. After a moment of hesitation, I tap the button, changing the "Follow" button to "Requested". Returning to my scrolling, I'm soon interrupted by a notification.
@sam.well14 has accepted your request
"Huh... he's awake." Smiling, I quickly browse through his posts, finding only a few poems and random panoramic shots. Just as I'm checking one of his posts, another notification pops up.
@sam.well14 is now following you
"Well, that was fast." Chuckling, a DM appears mere seconds later. It's from him.
sam.well14:
howd u know abt my acc?
tygrrr_s0n:
guess
sam.well14:
matty?
tygrrr_s0n:
r8 on the money
sam.well14:
i think i should start talkong to him about privscy
*talking; privacy
tygrrr_s0n:
myb u should
sam.well14:
maybe i will
Smiling a bit, I sit up and lean against the wall, pillow on my lap.
tygrrr_s0n:
why u still up?
sam.well14:
yeah ive an assignment for intro to film studies
tygrrr_s0n:
im guessing its a relatively new assignment?
sam.well14:
u know me. hv to finish it as fast as i can
tygrrr_s0n:
sleep dude, u need it
sam.well14:
says the one still awake
tygrrr_s0n:
i just taught stacy how to drive tonight around fleurs
sam.well14:
so she finally admits why she never takes ur car?
tygrrr_s0n:
yea. shes surprisingly good. tonights the third lesson
sam.well14:
well, im glad you guys talk now
Smiling, my gaze lingers on my slightly ajar door, my ears perk up upon hearing Stacy's soft snores outside the room. She's fast asleep, it seems.
tygrrr_s0n:
all thx to u sam
There is a long pause before he replies to me again. It's about ten minutes later when his reply appears.
sam.well14:
no its not, u guys did it
tygrrr_s0n:
which would never happen if ur not there for her
sam.well14:
hm... ig thats fair. but still u guys did the rest
tygrrr_s0n:
just take the compliment
sam.well14:
fine just so u shut up
tygrrr_s0n:
ur welc
sam.well14:
well i gtg back to the assignment
tygrrr_s0n:
k. good luck dude
As Samuel leaves my message on read, I sink back onto the bed, ensuring my phone is connected to charge. Switching off the lampshade, I direct my gaze upward, pondering our conversation. It's gratifying to witness Samuel's shifting perception of me and to acknowledge my own evolution as a person...
I remember the light sensation in my chest when I eventually succumbed to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of my snug blanket.
*****
Samuel
"You know what I was doing?" I slide my phone into the pocket of my cargo pants, returning my attention to the whimpering fox, his paws shielding his nose. He's on the ground and in pain, right after I hit his face with a brick twice, my bag lying next to the mugger's body. "My ex-best friend just followed me on Pinstagram. We're just DM'ing. Lied to him, saying I'm currently doing my assignment." Squatting beside him with knitted brows, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. "Which I was fucking planning to do later until you tried to mug me, you fucker!"
I had just finished my shift at Vinylomanics, and with Maya taking a leave to care for her ailing grandmother, I was left alone in the quiet store. Exhausted, I dozed off there, unaware that the shop remained open beyond closing hours. Awakening only thirty minutes ago due to my boss' angry spam calls, I hurriedly completed the closing duties and set off toward my dorm when the fox unexpectedly accosted me.
So here I am, judging the mugger as blood droplets still ooze from his nose, forming little puddles on the ground.
I lock eyes with him, simmering with rage. "You really shouldn't try mugging someone with serious anger issues, you know? Especially when they're in a good mood?" I glance at the clean knife lying not far from us, illuminated by the moonlight. Grabbing it, I give it a flick. "And I was fucking chatting with him, you asshole! And to think you even try using this... stupid knife at me?!" Chucking it with sheer force into a nearby dumpster, I rise to my feet. "Do you know how much I want to kill you right now? You should be grateful I have more self-control than I did back then! Get up now, I'm done with this bullshit!"
Extending my paw to help the mugger up, he looks at me, his eyes just locked on me. Instead of accepting my paw, he kicks my shin, sending me crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Before I can retaliate, he pins me to the ground, his grip tightening around my throat. Instinct kicks in, and my claws itch to make an appearance.
"You... fucking bastard!" The fox snarls, his fangs clenched as his blood manages to creep into his mouth. "You're making things harder for the both of us! It's on you, you fucking cat!"
Struggling to breathe, I manage to slip my hands between his arms and break his hold. Before he can react, I push his esophagus with all my might using both paws, rolling aside just in time to avoid being crushed beneath him. He hits the ground face-first, likely worsening his already injured nose as he yelps and attempts to rise.
But before he can fully stand, I forestall him, unleashing a powerful kick to his head. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" The mugger topples once more, groaning in pain.
"I WAS TRYING TO BE FUCKING NICE, AND THAT'S HOW YOU REPAY ME?!" In a fury, my eyes dart around, searching for the brick I had used earlier. Spotting it, I snatch it up from the ground. Then, I lift his head, brick at the ready.
"You? You ruined my fucking day! You ruined my fucking day!"
But God knows a part of me loathe what I'm doing.
"LET ME GO! PLEASE!"
In that moment, reality snaps back, and I realize I might have gone too far if I ended up using the brick. Some dark demons are better off sealed, after all. Even if this desire to cause him more harm is still tugging at me.
But I'm not my father...
"P-Please, don't kill me..."
I'm not my father... I'm not my father...
Staring at the brick clutched in my paw, my breath steadily becomes more erratic, my chest hurting. I hurl it away with all my might, the sharp thud as it hits the ground jolting the fox. I meet his wincing gaze, blood still trickling from his nose, staining his lips redder. Releasing my grip on the furs of his head, I take a step back, noticing my trembling paws for the first time.
Shit, shit, shit, what have I done... Why am I doing this...
"Please... just leave..." I stare at my shaking paws, on the verge of breaking down. The mugger shuffles away from me, retreating on his rear. When he just sits frozen, gasping for air as he eyes me angrily, I explode. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
With that, he scurries off. I watch his back disappear into the darkness of the alley. With unsteady feet, I flee the scene as fear of getting caught creeps in, especially after how loud our fight was. Along the way, I punch at my trembling hands in a futile attempt to still them. "Stop shaking, Sam!"
I strike them again, but they refuse to calm down. Hitting my head in frustration, a tear escapes my eye. "STOP FUCKING SHAKING!" Then, I collapse, surrendering to my breakdown. It's then I notice a smear of the fox's blood marring the back of my paw.
"S-Shit! Shit!" Struggling to breathe, I hastily wipe the back of my paw on my dark cargo pants. Retreating to a nearby boutique's closing shutter, I slump against it, the metallic clang echoing along my ragged sobs.
"You... idiot! You fucking disgrace!" And in that moment, it's my father's voice I hear. It's my father's voice echoing in my head. It's me looking back at my father's wrathful eyes, his one paw clutching mom's empty bottle, the same way I was holding the brick.
And I keep moving forward, deeper into his voice.
I let it consume me until exhaustion dulls my tears. Until snot mixes with my saliva. Until cold sweat chills me beneath the serene spring air. Until I muster the strength to head back to my dorm, where Matty sleeps soundly with earbuds in, oblivious. Until I wash my face in the sink. Until I trace along the phantom grip of the mugger on my neck and the bruise on my shin. Until I remove Matty's earbuds and charge his phone. Until I change into my sleeping clothes and lie down. Until I entertain the thought that maybe the mugger deserves to end me. Until I drift into a restless sleep with my heart still racing so fast, fearing that I may die of a heart attack in my sleep.
And above everything? Until I forget to work on my Intro to Film Studies assignment.[]