"For the last time, I didn't see who it was." I grumbled for what must have been the hundredth time that night. The officer only glared at me, as he has every other time, doubting every word I said and scolding every roll of my eyes. But I couldn't help it. No matter how many times these numskulls asked me about tonight's events, my answer won't change.
"Someone broke into your house, someone your father is telling us was Dustin King, and you expect us to believe you didn't see anything?" The officer asked, tucking his pad of paper back into his pocket once he realized my statement would be no help in this investigation.
That's right, give up.
I shrugged, sparing a momentary glance towards my father, "It was dark and it all happened so fast. My father has been working long hours, I think he might be sleep deprived. Delusional even."
The officer laughed, "You can be sure I won't put that in the official report. Your father would have both our heads."
He walked away cackling as if that were my intention, to make a joke. But it wasn't. It was so far from my true intentions.
What would appear to be the entire police force arrived only minutes after Dustin and Lumiere left, and have been here for hours. Going over the same information time and time again with the expectation of it suddenly changing. But it won't, not with my ways of deception playing such a vital role.
I can't begin to fathom how Lumiere managed to carry Dustin away while also hiding both of their motorcycles, but the man must be miracle worker. When the police searched the nearby streets, they found nothing. No trace of the man or an evidence of his presence subsisted.
Much to my father's dismay. He wanted Dustin's head on the chopping block but there was no head to be found. Only a tale without support. As long as I kept up my charades, this charge would fall through and if I have anything to say about it, my father's plan for conviction will never see the day in court.
The officer I'd just been talking to reported my statement, or lack thereof, to the lead detective of the case. Normally, a break-in wouldn't have the merits to be deemed worthy for a detective of this man's importance, but my father called him personally because of who was being blamed. Dustin's name is legend around these parts and everyone wants to be responsible for putting the wolf down when so many others have failed.
The detective glanced at me then sauntered over, a charming smile on his weathered face, "Sadie is it? We met earlier today, my name is Jim. I work with your father at the courthouse."
I hated him already, "Yes sir, I remember."
He took a modest grip on my elbow and led me to the side, away from the crowd growing around my father who was spewing out information about his valiant efforts of assaulting Dustin King with a frying pan. Once away from the madness and now standing in the living room, Jim gestured for me to sit beside him on the couch. When I hesitated, he chuckled, "I won't bite."
He didn't sound convincing, and I wasn't at all convinced.
I took a seat on his left but kept a distance, "Do you have more questions for me, detective?"
Much like the policemen in the other room, he pulled out his notes and read over them, speaking under his breath as he went, "Man breaks in, finds him in the room with his daughter, renders him unconscious, and then escapes with the help of another." Jim turned back towards me, "Your father's testimony alone is enough to apprehend Dustin King for trespassing and endangerment. It won't hold but all we need is a starting point, the rest will fall into place."
Like hell it will.
My voice came out surprisingly strong when I replied, "I'm sorry that my statement is causing so many problems. But you've known my father long enough to know how obsessed he becomes with his work. I think that obsession is affecting his memory, making him see what he wants to see rather than what he actually saw."
Jim shrugged, tapping at the notepad in his lap, "True, all very true, but that doesn't explain the amount of detail he was able to provide us with. These are hard facts, Ms. Caster."
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your colleagues. It was dark and it happened fast. My father is simply concocting evidence because he wants a conviction for his case." I was sure to look the detective in the eye when I said, "Dustin King was not, and has never been, in this house."
Jim continued to stare, a grin taking forming while he tucked his notes away and scooted closer, folding his hands in front of him as if he were prepared for a timeless secret only I could deliver , "Off the record, Ms. Caster. Tell me the truth." His head tilted, "Why are you protecting him?"
I scoffed, "I would never protect my father-"
"No, not your father. King." Jim's eyes were bright, "Word on the street is that he was your kidnapper, your father seems to think so anyways. However, if that's the case, I can't imagine why you'd want to protect him. The only solution I can come up with is Stockholm Syndrome, but I get the sense there is more to your story than just a psychological pardon."
He was too invested, just like my father. They were a breed of man who didn't give up, who would dig deeper and deeper until they finally found the evidence they sought. But what they didn't realize is that the deeper they dig, the farther from the surface they become. And all it takes is one unstable variable to bury them.
For now, I'm that unstable variable.
My smile was ailing, "I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw my kidnappers."
"Seems to me you don't see a lot of things, Ms. Caster." Jim commented, reclining back on the couch. He was comfortable, at ease. He should be quivering under the impending loss of Dustin's conviction due to the discrepancies between my father's account and my own. But he wasn't, and that worried me.
"I'm sure that wasn't meant to sound as offensive as it did." I offered sweetly.
"Oh, of course. I meant no indignity." He smiled again but this time, it was lathered in deceit. He knew something, "I only meant that perhaps, because of your recent traumatic experience, your mental state can't be all that viable to this investigation."
My muscles were tight in careful vigilance, "So you're saying my statement, my testimony, is useless?" This was too good to be true, candy coated trickery, "Doesn't that mean you can't use it for the break in ... or the conviction of my kidnapping?"
That means my father can't fabricate my testimony against Dustin. Which also means there is no legitimate evidence pointing towards Dustin as my kidnapper. The trespassing charge won't hold, just as the detective said, and the kidnapping charge just went up in smoke.
Jim nodded, sighing in the process, but it sounded forced, "Indeed. Unfortunately, I don't think your role as a witness to either crime will hold enough eminence to use in court." I was so busy internally screaming in delight that I almost missed Jim's next words, "Which means we'll have to rely on your father's testimony."
The shock of that last phrase hit me harder than I expected, "What?"
"Well since you can't testify, your father will. Which means his statement is now the only one we have." Jim leaned forward again, this time a cold sobriety falling over him. And when he spoke again, all signs of his earlier benevolence were replaced with daunting severity, "And in case you aren't following along, that means whatever hope you had of discrediting Dustin King throughout the length of this investigation, is now gone."
I fell for it. I was so intent on protecting Dustin, so concentrated on the task at hand, I hadn't even seen considered the possibility of getting cheated.
Jim chuckled at my reaction, "You're playing with professionals here, Ms. Caster. Did you really think you'd be able to outwit a detective with twenty years of service?" Damn him and that pestering arrogance, "I give you acknowledgment for trying, you played a good lie my dear. But you forgot one very crucial element to your plan."
My teeth were gritted to a point where pain encased my jaw, causing my words to come out muffled, "And what element was that?"
Jim shot me a lecherous wink, "You're just a kid, and the world of crime is no place for a pup." He stood from the sofa, patting my knee as he went.
I watched him stroll back into the kitchen where the cops and my father were huddled in preparation, listening to a radio one of them had set on the table. I couldn't tell what they were waiting for but whatever it was, paired with the cocky demeanor of the detective as he smiled back at me with both hands in his pockets, wasn't good. The future was about to become very bleak and Dustin's future in particular was about to become very dark.
The couch beside me dipped as someone sat down and I turned to find Toby, his blue eyes now barred open by fright, "Sadie, what's going on? Why are dad's friends here?"
My brother's virtue was still intact if he thought our father had any true friends. I pulled Toby closer to hold him, more for my own sake than his, "It's okay. They're just here to talk to dad about some work stuff."
But Toby was clever, wise beyond his years and observant in a way I never was when his age. He checked to be sure we were alone in the living room and forgotten by the men in the kitchen before he asked, "Is this about that guy? The one I saw in the hallway?"
I froze.
That's right. Toby saw Dustin and I in the hall as we were running for the door. I'd completely forgotten about it. I took him by the shoulders, my grip loose but firm enough to insinuate the cruciality of my next question, "Have any of dad's friends asked you about what you saw?"
Toby's eyebrows came together, "Well yeah."
My heart plummeted, "What did you tell them? Toby, I need to know word for word – exactly – what you said about the man you saw."
My brother was quiet for a moment, still monitoring the kitchen as if he expected the police to storm towards us should they notice our discussion. While I waited for him to speak, I felt my organs stalling. Because Toby's testimony, along with my father's, was a death sentence for Dustin. At least I was able to provide doubt towards tonight's events before Detective Small Dick kicked me out of the investigation. But with Toby corroborating with my father, Dustin was as good as guilty.
As good as dead.
Toby shifted my hold so that he was able to clasp onto my hands. I waited for his explanation, already deciphering how I could somehow slander Toby's account of what he saw. But Toby's hold was firm and he said quietly, "Sadie, it's okay. I didn't tell them anything."
A whoosh of air punched from my lungs, "What?"
He smiled cheekily, with pride, "I told them I was asleep, the whole time."
An unexplainable amount of relief bombarded me and I scooped Toby up into an embrace so tight that it could have crushed him if he were still weak from chemo. But he's strong now, healthy, and so incredibly smart that I was dumbfounded by his intelligence. My brother, my baby brother, is a goddamn genius.
"He was one of your friends, wasn't he?" Toby asked through my hug, looking up at me with a glimmer in his eyes that was meant for me and my joy, "One of the friends you made while you were away?"
I nodded, "Yes. He's a friend, a very good friend. And you just saved his life, Toby."
This made his smile stretch farther, "Really? Did he come to visit you because you were sad about leaving?"
This habit of lying was becoming a real problem for me but it kept everyone safer if the truth was kept hidden, "Yeah, buddy. Something like that."
Toby was quiet for a long time after, staring off into space as though lost in thought. But his smile never left, it lingered while he recalled those images of what he saw, and I was stunned into silence when Toby whispered, "He looked strong."
My response was delayed, a momentary lapse passing while I was at a loss for words. Eventually I nodded, securing my arms tighter around him, "He is."
"I want to be strong like that one day." Toby spoke quietly, in awe of a quality he's never known. From probably the earliest he can remember, Toby has always been weak; admitted to hospitals and under the needle to medication. He's only ever known one way of life, one that he didn't choose. For Toby, being strong was never really an option because his genetics took that choice away from him.
My mouth went dry, "You are strong, buddy."
He shook his head, "No, not like that. Your friend is super strong." Toby's voice was light in adoration and his expression was cast into wonder, "He's stronger than anyone. I want to be like that."
An ache entered my heart at hearing those words, at hearing my younger brother's praise for the man I loved. Dustin wouldn't approve, he'd say he was no one to idolize, but Toby and I knew better. I rocked Toby in my arms and kissed the top of his head, "Me too."
Toby only laughed, "You're already that strong, Sadie."
If only that were true. I've been pretending to be strong for my brother since the day we found out about his illness. Ever since then, it's been silent suffering and fake smiles. It's been tears behind locked doors and borrowed vitality. I wasn't strong, he only thought I was strong because of the mask I wore and the roles I played.
Dustin is strong. Toby is strong.
I am broken.
Toby looked up at me, recognizing my hesitation, and he poked a finger into my cheek to gain my attention, "You don't see it. But the rest of us do. That's why dad is always arguing with you. You're stronger than him."
That's not the reason my father and I 'argue' as my brother put it so innocently, but I wouldn't dare tell him otherwise. I see our father for the monster he truly is but Toby still viewed him as the man who raised us. I couldn't ruin that for him, Toby still needs a parent.
Luckily, I didn't need to come up with another lie.
"Head's up, kids." Jim announced, reentering the room with my father trailing closely behind and the line of cops beyond that. They filed into the room, surrounding us like a wall of uniforms. The detective's grin was measured in sinful delight, "You're in for quite the surprise."
Instant terror coiled in my stomach, "What does that mean?"
My father's joy was just as iniquitous, "See for yourself."
He flicked on the television, the local news report was already in motion. The woman on the screen was babbling incoherently until my father cranked up the volume, "-has been confirmed. A team of officers was dispatched to collect a man by the name of Dustin King, wanted for conspiracy of kidnapping a minor along with several counts of possession of a deadly weapon, trespassing, and even murder." I felt the heat drain from my body and my lungs went still, "We go now to Stacy Porter, live at the scene of the arrest."
They couldn't be there already, it's the middle of the night, or early morning to be technical. Then again, it's been hours since the whole ordeal took place, offering enough time for an ambush.
My thoughts were a mess, tumbling over each other to convince me of their own motives, and my organs failed to comply with the demands of my body. In a matter of seconds, I felt myself withering under lightheaded deprivation of oxygen and an unbelievable constraint that bore down on me with aim to mutilate.
But all of that vanished into an abyss when the screen flashed over to a woman who was walking briskly behind a group of men in police uniforms. I recognized the building they were approaching, illuminated by several nearby cop cars. It was the compound.
What was left of it.
"Thank you, Julie. We are currently outside of a complex in southern California where a squad of policemen have already entered the vicinity to arrest Dustin King. I'm following behind a secondary group, called in as backup. We are live at the scene and because the integrity of upcoming scenes may be disturbing, viewer discretion is advised."
My hands wrung together in my lap, rubbing the skin raw. Dustin wouldn't be at the compound, he couldn't be at the compound. I told him to hide, I told Lumiere to take him somewhere safe. The compound would be the first place they'd look. Lumiere would have taken him far away, into one of their safehouses. Someplace they'd never be discovered. Right?
The camera panned away from the reporter, focusing on a group of people beyond the chainlink fence. As the second group of policemen neared, it became clear that the primary group found what they were looking for.
From around the corner, Dustin appeared and with sight of him there, I felt my heart shatter. He was facing away from the camera, taking tentative steps backwards with his hands raised, signaling his surrender and cooperation. Next came several cops to enter the frame and I realized then why Dustin was being so cautious.
Guns, so many guns, pointed directly at his chest. Kill shots if need be. But while I was having a fit on my couch, nearly mad with fear, Dustin didn't seem concerned. In fact, he appeared rather calm for the brutality of the situation.
Lumiere and Eli appeared as well, Corinth too, the three of them thrown against the charred brick wall with their hands pinned to the backs of their heads like common criminals. Dustin was separated from the rest, backed into the center of the lot where he was ordered onto his knees with warning that any unnecessary action would result in his death. Dustin followed their direction, slowly lowering down onto one knee and then the other.
Cops circled him like vultures about to feast, a brave one stepping forward to inspect Dustin's body. Because the camera was hidden behind the secondary group, it was hard to hear but clear enough to be understood, "Do you have any drugs on your person?"
Dustin's response came out aggravated but bored, "No sir."
"Any weapons?" The cop asked as he began patting the length of Dustin's body. I prayed he wasn't carrying.
Dustin's head hung forward and he rolled his lips into his mouth, "Yes."
Shit.
The cop became stiff, as though he were suddenly at risk, and his voice came out shaken "Where?"
Dustin's hands remained aimless in the air but his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, "Back."
The policeman reached to Dustin's back waistband, relieving him of the silver pistol I've become so familiar with, and my eyes fluttered close. Dammit. They'll be able to get him for weapon possession charges for sure, along with so many others courtesy of my father.
The cop handed off the gun to another, then kneed Dustin in the back and forced him onto his stomach. Even from where the camera was stationed at a distance, I saw the way Dustin winced. It's only been two weeks since he was stabbed, an injury that almost killed him. From the grimace on his face, I'd say any progression in healing had just been erased.
While reading off Dustin's rights, the cop jerked both his hands behind his back a little too rough. Once the handcuffs were on, the cop left Dustin in the dirt while they approached Lumiere. They spun him around, one policeman pinning his shoulders to the bricks while the others interrogated him about recent activity.
"Where was Dustin the night of October twenty-third last year?"
Lumiere's hands were still tethered to the back of his head while he graced the policemen with a smirk far too taunting to be ignored, "Hmh, let me think, October twenty-third you say? Well if I remember correctly, that was a Tuesday and we usually have tacos on Tuesdays. So I'm going to guess ..." He took an elongated, dramatic, pause while he thought, "At the closest taco truck?"
The police didn't appreciate his humor and whirled him back around, purposefully hitting his head against the brick as they did so. Moving on to Eli, they asked him the same question. Eli thought about it too, resting both his hands on top of his head in a lazy manner while he stared into the moonlight, "Don't worry officers, I remember where Dustin was that night. You see, Tuesday's are half priced at the strip club so we rounded up the lot of us and headed into town to get our freak on."
Corinth nodded from where she was facing the wall, "I remember that too, got me a good lap dance from a girl named Diamond." She nodded towards the cop beside her and made a face, "I'm sure paid company is the closest you'll ever get to action huh?"
The cop grabbed at her but Eli knocked away his arm, "Hey fatso, she's not a doughnut shop. Why don't you keep your grubby hands off her."
The policeman didn't know better and grabbed Corinth again, obviously unaware of how this game was played. Eli's immediate retaliation ensued, and then Lumiere's as well when the police slammed Eli onto his back. Shouting commenced and a struggle broke out when Lumiere began laughing at those trying to detain him. Before long, everyone was in handcuffs.
Even from where I sat, I felt the policemen's frustration. But the Tribe wasn't known for going down easy. They went down fighting, kicking and screaming all the way. While I congratulated their efforts, they were only making matters worse. And I saw through their smirks and mockery.
I knew they were scared.
At random, one cop grabbed Lumiere by the hair and threw him face first into the dirt beside Dustin. With his hands handcuffed behind him, Lumiere couldn't slow his descent and he hit the ground hard. There was more shouting by those who stood, mainly Corinth declaring insults, but down below on the ground, as low as one can possibly get in our society, Lumiere and Dustin were in their own world.
Their heads were craned upwards to view one another, hands cuffed behind their backs, laughing. Dustin stared at Lumiere and he stared back, enjoying themselves, no doubt remembering countless times before. They were no strangers to the wrong side of the law, and being in the dirt is where they preferred. They were happy, true Tribe members to be in that situation but still find the will to laugh at the law. The same law that threatened to lock them behind bars where they'd rot for the remainder of their lives while never seeing another ray of sunshine.
Despite it all, they laughed.
But their moment couldn't last. A cop stepped up to Dustin, grabbing at the cuffs where Dustin's hands met behind his back, and yanked him crudely onto his feet. With an unnecessarily firm grip on the back of Dustin's shirt, the cop shoved him forward and forced him into a nearby police car.
Lumiere settled where he lay, no longer laughing, instead staring on in contemplation. Lumiere didn't fight back, or provide any further snide remarks. He simply watched in vacancy, as though he were trying to hold back what truly boiled beneath the surface.
As if he were saying goodbye.
In that moment, I realized he was. Even if the trespassing charge doesn't stick, other charges will. Drowning in conviction and in route to jail for a crime so petty compared to the true horrors he's committed. My father would have a field day if he knew of Dustin's past.
Once in jail, Dustin will be killed. Just how Brandon was. And this time, Donovan isn't around to pull strings and blackmail the system. Dustin will be trapped behind bars, with his death sentence following him, stalking him, until the right moment when the guards weren't looking.
Lumiere knew all of this.
And he was saying goodbye.
The police car's lights burst to life, illuminating the otherwise darkened compound in startling hues of red and blue. Corinth and Eli watched the car drive past, glancing towards one another for confirmation that what they saw was truly happening. Lumiere watched too but he had no one to share his concern with. He could only lay there, still as low as one can get, but now he lay there alone.
The reporter was talking again, promising updates as the information was received, but the screen went black and in the absence of an image, I saw my father's reflection smiling back at me.
"We got him." Jim commented, shaking my father's hand. The surrounding policemen offered words of congratulations, patting my father on the shoulder while he beamed in conceit at his accomplishment. But what had he truly done? He didn't make the arrest, all he did was call it in.
He was a fraud and yet he'll receive the glory.
"Drinks are on me tonight gentlemen." My father announced, leading the group of them to the front door without a single word towards his children. Even Jim left without a conversation. He merely shrugged, as if to say we both knew it would end this way, then followed the parade of assholes out of the house.
As soon as that door closed and sweet silence reigned once more, that mask of strength I've been wearing for so many years cracked. Because this wasn't just a loss. This was a complete failure. I gave everything I had to keep Dustin safe, but it still wasn't enough.
Just as I've been fearing all this time, I wasn't enough.
"You have to go."
At first, I wasn't sure I'd truly heard those words. But when I felt Toby tugging at my sleeve and I laid eyes on the determination in his, I realized he hadn't just suggested that I go.
He was demanding it.
"Toby I can't-"
"You have to! You have to do something." Toby insisted, already on his feet and pulling me towards the stairs, "Come on, I'll help you pack. You should bring some clothes, and good running shoes-"
I lugged him to a stop, "It doesn't matter anymore, they already arrested him."
My brother was beyond reasoning, "You'll figure something out, you're smart. Go upstairs to pack, I'll put some food into a bag for you to take. And I know where dad hides extra money, you can take that too. I'll just say I borrowed it for lunch or something."
He was talking too fast and my mind was lagging in response. I couldn't go. Nothing I did from this point forward could help Dustin. He's beyond help. He needs a miracle.
"Toby, stop this. I can't go-"
"You've been looking out for me for as long as I can remember, and I love you for that. I'll always love you for that. But ..." He paused, looking around the house for the rest of his phrase because his thoughts moved too fast for his mouth to keep up. Finally, when his gaze fell on me again, I saw the haze in his mind clear and his features went soft, "But you have other people to look out for now, and they need you more than I do. So you have to help them. I'll be fine here with dad until you come back."
He still didn't get it, "That's the problem, Toby. If I leave, I'm not sure I'll be able to come back."
This overwhelmed him and I saw how those words warped his decision. His conviction became much less so at the possibility of how this would all end. But it was true. I've protected Toby from every danger we've ever faced but I can't protect him from this. Leaving this house distinguishes where my loyalties lie, and my father will never allow my return after such a disgrace. He wanted me gone before, and after a stunt like this, he'll make sure my choice persists.
"You still have to go."
I blanched, "What?"
Toby looked near tears but he puffed his chest out to show that strength he so desperately wanted, "They need you, Sadie. You can't abandon them."
Was he really advocating for people he's never met under the presumption that he'd never see me again? I placed my hands on his shoulders, holding unbreakable eye contact to ensure that what he spoke wasn't invoked from a place of misguided desire, "You understand what you're asking me to do, right?"
He nodded, eyes wide and tearing.
"Are you absolutely sure?" I tried one last time.
Toby allowed only one tear to fall but smiled through the sorrow, "You're a good person, Sadie. I can't keep you to myself. Others need you and," He glanced back into the living room, at the blank screen on the television, "I wouldn't be strong if I didn't share you."
I hugged him tightly then, tighter than ever before, because this could be the last time I see him. Maybe ever but definitely for a while. We've been through this before and though the situation is different, it felt just as sour. He snuggled against me, still trying to hold his tears back, "And who knows, maybe you'll be able to come back and visit someday. Until then, I get to live knowing I have the most badass sister in the whole world, even if I can't see her."
We shared a laugh. I didn't believe in myself the same way that Toby did. I wasn't sure what my presence could do for Dustin, or if there was anything at all to save him. But Toby's faith in me inspired courage and aroused prowess.
I have to try. Even if it gets me killed, I have to try.
"Okay, buddy." I whispered to him, kissing his temple and holding him close. We took that time for us, to mentally file this moment so we wouldn't forget. Our mother was gone, our father was gone, and now we were about to divide.
"Good." Toby muttered, squeezing me only a second longer before pushing me towards the stairs, "Go pack and I'll get food ready."
No further encouragement was needed. I raced to my room, throwing clothes and shoes into a duffle bag along with anything else I might need. Glancing around the room, I found that most of what took up space would only slow me down. I changed into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, slid on my favorite pair of converse for good luck, and grabbed my wallet even though it was mostly empty.
Just before leaving, one last object caught my eye. A necklace my mother gave me long ago, before she got sick. A simple chain supporting a palm sized cross pendant hung from a hook on my vanity, resonating within the uncomfortably still air of my room. It never meant much to me besides an heirloom, something to give to my child one day just because I didn't know what else to do with it.
But now it called to me, as though it were my mother herself, and I found that I'd stuffed it into the side of my duffle before the conscious decision to do so was developed.
Oh well, maybe I could pawn it off for extra cash.
Back downstairs, Toby had made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He placed them next to a few bottles of water, a bag of pretzels, and two chocolate chip cookies which he stuffed into his Batman lunchbox.
He handed it to me but when I insisted that I couldn't take it, he only said, "It's so you'll remember me."
Then we were hugging again, using the most of this time because we knew it was fast fading, "I wish I could bring you with me."
"I know why you can't." He answered, holding my waist as we walked to the door. His arms were longer than I remember them being from before I went missing. They fit fully around my waist now, "Do you know how you're getting there?"
My strategy was complex and intricate, well thought out using the most in-depth forms of examination.
"I'm taking the bus." I told him.
He opened the door for me and watched me walk through, opening his mouth as if to say something but deciding not to. I turned back towards him one last time, another hug, another kiss. More tears and so much heartbreak. Loving someone as much as I love Toby and Dustin is so damn hard because moments like these ruin the joy.
Inevitably, we all have to say goodbye.
"Be safe, Sadie." He said through whimpering grief.
"I will, buddy." I picked him up, off the ground, and wiggled him in my arms, "I'll come back if I can, to let you know that I'm alright."
When his feet met the concrete of the porch once more, reality set in. This was it. I'm leaving the place and the person I fought for months to return to. After all those arguments and promises to Dustin, I was turning my back on the very thing that kept me going.
Was that wrong? Was this decision wrong?
Did it matter? Whether I'm meant to save Dustin or not isn't up for debate any longer. Destiny, fate, whatever was controlling my life, it would have to take a break for a while because I refuse to let Dustin end this way.
Toby handed me my duffle and I started down the porch steps, into the night just as Dustin and Lumiere had only hours prior. But before I got far, Toby called out my name. I looked back at my brother, standing there on the porch by himself with the ginormous house rising behind him, making him look so incredibly small. But from where he stood, I saw the smallest of sheepish smiles cross his face and his last words of wisdom became known.
"Kick some ass, sis."
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Woot woot, update my dears! Let's hear it, who's excited to see how Sadie gets Dustin out of this one??
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Thanks again my lovelies!
xoxo