Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
We waited an hour.
It took an hour for a squad car to come over.
The police arrived, no lights were blaring so it looked like a normal car in the dark.
They got out, talked to Cut. Handcuffs were put on Deek, and he was escorted into the car. They talked more with Cut, then one came to find me. It wasn’t hard to find me. He opened the door and there I was, and I gave him a brief statement of what I overheard.
That’s how Sasha knew. She would’ve heard me then.
They remained there for twenty minutes, but I didn’t know why.
Then they took him and we were asked to come down as well.
That took another hour, longer even.
The drive to the police station.
Going in. Waiting.
Then the statements, and I was back to waiting.
Now Chad was here.
“How did you get back here?”
“What?” He’d been looking the other way, but swung back to me.
He was being nice.
That registered in the back of my mind. Why was he being nice? He was always so mean to me.
“How did you get back here? It’s a police station. I doubt they want someone just wandering around.”
“Uh…” His mouth was open and he gaped at me a second. “I don’t know. I just walked through. No one was out there, and the door coming back here was open. I figured they left it open on purpose.”
“I highly doubt that. You should go back out there.”
“What?” He laughed.
Why did he laugh? This wasn’t a laughing matter.
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” I chose my words on purpose. I wanted to see his reaction.
He flushed, swallowing, and then he winced once more. “You don’t want me around you?”
“When do I ever?”
He frowned, his hand in his hair once more.
Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t being normal Cheyenne, well, fuck that Cheyenne. Fuck who that was—“Do people like you think about the people you hurt?”
“What?”
“People like me. People like my mom.”
“Huh? I didn’t hurt your mom. Your mom, she—”
“She was a goddamn junkie, Chad! You were a teenager, but in that moment, you were the adult--”
“No, I wasn’t! I was a teenager—”
“You took advantage of her and you know it. You and your fath—”
He surged toward me, getting in my face. His finger was pointing and he was red. “He’s not my father! He’s yours!”
“Then why are you here?!” I yelled right back.
The switch was flipped and I didn’t give a fuck.
I didn’t care about him.
I didn’t care about the police.
I didn’t care about his neck.
She was taken from me, and that wasn’t their decision. Deek wouldn’t have come over if Chad hadn’t--but he was right, and I stopped because he was right.
“Hey.” Cut’s voice came down the hallway. He was alone and frowning, his head inclined and moving between the two of us. “What’s going on?”
I turned away.
She could’ve lasted longer.
She might’ve lasted longer.
She might’ve—she might’ve got help, but no. I was lying to myself.
She did get help. A lot of it. And it never stuck.
When would it have stuck?
Or would she have done it herself later on? Would she have pushed the second needle in anyways?
Cut and Chad were talking. I heard their voices murmuring to each other, and then Cut was coming toward me.
I didn’t want him near me.
“Hey, hey.”
His voice was gentle.
His hands were gentle.
I didn’t want gentle.
I whipped around and shoved him back. “Don’t!”
“He—what?” From Cut.
Chad had been leaving, but he stopped and turned back.
“This.” He had to know. I already told him, but he had to know. “This isn’t a one-time shitty thing that happened to me. This is the last in a long list of shitty things that have happened to me, and I thought it was done. I thought when she died, and when I went away, and when I got better, I thought it was all going to get better. I’m still here! I’m still in the police station because my father helped my mother overdose. He killed her, and he had no right! No. Right! NO RIGHT!”
I was remembering those days.
Bits and pieces. They were disjointed.
We ran out of shampoo.
I used soap from a gas station a block away.
I remember my stomach growling, and growling, until it got to a point when it stopped growling. I thought it stopped working at times.
I remember the cold.
I’d forgotten the cold, until now.
I had no blankets.
She took them, but I never knew why. She just did.
And she was cold.
I wasn’t talking about temperature.
I just wanted someone to make me warm.
“Let’s go home, Shy.”
I wasn’t numb anymore.
So many thoughts and feelings were blasting me now, but I heard him and I lifted my head.
I was sad. I didn’t want to be sad anymore.
“You used my nickname.”
He gave me a crooked grin, but to me it was the most beautiful smile ever.
He murmured, reaching for my hand and curling two of his fingers around mine, “I can call you Shine instead? My own nickname for you.”