I know what he means.
I start with the walls, smashing the drywall in several places. The first hit satisfies me unlike any of the others. The bookshelf full of pictures catches my eye, and I see red.
Snapshots of Marek’s life are displayed. None of me, though. I was only a planned, temporary visit. I spot a new one which wasn’t there before. A young boy with a little girl sitting on his lap. They have matching dark brown hair, his messy while hers is in a high ponytail. His brotherly love for his sister pierces my soul right through the photo. Full of hope and love.
I pull the frame off the shelf, running my fingers across the happy boy’s face. Marek hisses. This is personal, this photo. After all this time, he made the choice to frame it.
“You’re the reason why,” Marek says. “You were vulnerable enough to talk about how you felt, and it’s been a while since I thought about her. No one knows, and it was time I stopped treating her like a dirty secret.”
I swivel around and hand him the picture. She’s too precious to him to destroy. Once it’s safe in his hands, I spin around and connect the sharp edge of the poker, savoring the crack of glass as the frames shatter. The one of Reed with them angers me the most. She’s the reason I’m here. Her disappearance, her involvement in whatever is happening on campus, is what brought these boys to my doorstep.
The blood pumps in my ears, screaming at me. No one tells you it’s therapeutic to demolish things. You see people do it on movies and television, but you don’t know the true worth until you take your first swing.
Satisfied with my work, I toss the metal bar, and it hits the wall with a clang. Each breath grows heavier until they finally even out. I turn on my heels, a sense of accomplishment easing its way through my veins and freeze at the sight before me.
All four boys are standing in a line, spectators of my upheaval and aggression. Before everything, I would have cared what they thought, but not now. Their approval doesn’t mean shit to me anymore.
“Damn, maybe you aren’t much different than your sister, Little Weston,” Breaker says.
“Boys in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” I say, pride and strength in every word.
“We deserved this.” Byron nods his head, accepting what I’ve done.
“You deserve a lot more,” I whisper and pin him with my stare. “Don’t think for a second I’ll ever forgive you for what happened on the rooftop. As far as I’m concerned, you died up there. These boys love you, and I get it, I can almost understand, but it doesn’t mean I give a shit about the breath you do or don’t take.”
He doesn’t say anything, but turns away, leaving me with the three boys.
“I have some things to clean up.” Breaker points over his shoulder, winks at me, and leaves.
“You could have at least spared my computer, Palmer, but you’re right. There’s some shit going on in my head. You’re just the first person to care enough to notice,” Dixon whispers as he walks away. He isn’t angry with me. Maybe he’s a little in awe of me, giving me forgiveness for smashing his entire world to smithereens.
Once we are alone, Marek sits on the edge of his messed-up mattress. I ripped a hole in the middle of it with the pointed end of the poker. He grips the photo to his chest.
“We deserved all of this,” he says, ghosting his hand around his room.
“I didn’t break, Marek. I survived.”
Desperate for fresh air, I step over the wreckage and out of the room. Off the kitchen is a beautiful balcony, lined with a half-glass wall that makes it feel like I’m weightless and unreachable, suspended in air.
I don’t know how long I sit up here, leaning against the wall. Every so often, Marek brings me a cup of coffee. Breaker covers me with a sweatshirt that smells like him. As the stars twinkle in the sky, Dixon drapes a thick blanket over my shoulders. The view is a time-lapse video, shifting from darkness to dawn until the morning sun comes up.
Numb. It’s what I am.
I drop the blanket on the kitchen island, and once again, their domineering and possessive attention is on me. All it took is a fire poker to their belongings, and somehow, I’m one of them now. We have