“I’m not asking you to, Marek.” He takes a small step, not to frighten Palmer.
It doesn’t work. She looks moments away from screaming for help.
“It’s up to you.” I cut my glance to her. “You don’t have to do this right now. Not yet. Not ever.”
“What’s stopping me from calling the cops? Telling them everything?” She hisses through clenched teeth, leaning around me, staring into the eyes of her attacker.
“You can call the cops. You can turn us all in.” I hand her the phone. “That’s your choice, but deep down, I don’t think you want to.”
“And why the fuck wouldn’t I? He almost killed me.” She waves the phone between Byron and me.
“Because whatever haunted Reed is still out there, and you know it’s not us. We did what we had to do. No excuses. Not bargaining with you, Palmer. It’s just how we work. Your sister understood that. We were wrong. You aren’t much different than her,” I explain.
Palmer adjusts the bed until she’s more upright, everything about her set like stone. She glares at Byron as if I’ve given her permission to stand her ground. He’s smart enough to glance away, uncomfortable to be under her watch. He should be. He’s gone too far this time. Nothing he says can make this better or lessen the ache his actions have left behind.
“You’re a monster,” Palmer says. “Everything about you is laced with hatred, and nothing you say can make that better. Don’t use the love you felt for my sister as an excuse for what you did to me. As far as I’m concerned, you died on top of that roof.”
Byron’s head slowly nods as he listens and takes in her words. For the first time in our four-year friendship, our unbreakable bond is severed. We both know it.
“I’m sorry,” Byron says, staring at his feet, too ashamed to face Palmer. “To both of you, I’m sorry.” He leaves the room.
Hard, chest aching sobs break from Palmer’s body once we are alone. With my hand on her back, I try my hardest to comfort her, to prove I’m not a monster.
But I am a monster. I did horrible things, and at times, I enjoyed it. What kind of piece of shit gets a thrill from scaring a girl he cares about?
I stand from the chair I’ve taken over for the foreseeable future. I hover over her, and she flinches. Afraid I’ve lost her, I crouch down to mattress level.
“Why? Why her?” A guttural cry shakes her words. “Why’d they have to take her?”
She jumps when I place my hand on her chest, trying to calm her. Eventually, she settles. Her heart beats like a drum, telling a story of a broken girl who simply needs the basic thing she was given when she was born. Her sister. A connection to the world that is unconditional and unwavering. A sister’s love. This I understand too well.
“I know, baby. I know,” I whisper. My chest splits open at her breakdown. Even the strong are weak for those they love. That’s something I’m coming to learn.
She’s a broken girl, willing to let a broken boy try to fix the unfixable.
She rolls over and tucks herself into a ball, giving me no choice but to drop my hand. She’s taken as much as she could handle, allowing me to be that something unwavering, if only for a few minutes.
Unsure what to do, I linger where I am, watching her eyelids flutter as she lies helpless in the hospital bed.
“You were playing a part. All of those things you said and did, it was to reach the end game?” She unfolds, needing to know more, to understand how we got to this point.
“All my cruelty was me. Watching you melt into my body when I said and did those things only made me want to amp it up more.”
“Why? Couldn’t you have just told me the truth from the beginning?” She rolls to her back, disbelief in her voice.
Breaker walks into the room and leans against the wall across from the hospital bed, taking in the scene. His change of clothes tells me he’s been home. “It’s good to see you awake.”
“What are you doing here?” she asks. Her defenses are up and alert.
“I’m here on behalf of Dixon. He’s—” Breaker switches his glance from Palmer to me. “Right now, he’s a little fucked up. He’s destroyed the house.” Nothing else needs to be said. The boy is twisted up,