“He hasn’t, but I’m warming up,” I explain, shutting the car door behind me. With Breaker at my side, I walk inside their house.
Marek leans forward, dropping his hand to the small of my back and grazing his lips against the side of my head. “I didn’t tell him you were coming.”
I step down into the sunken living room. Having only spent a short amount of time in the room before, I walk to the windows. Glass spans two full walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows give the boys a nice view of the campus.
“A boys’ kingdom,” I whisper, turning to find quite the scene.
Dixon is sitting in a tall backed chair. His face is beet red, matching the color of his bloodshot eyes. The room is in disarray, mirroring the inside of my mind. Breaker climbs up into the low rafters, kicking his feet in and out. Byron leans against the main doorframe. Marek is standing closest to me. They’re cautious, choosing silence over anything else.
Dixon is the first one to break it. “What are you doing here?”
“Curious about why Marek and Breaker are worried about you.” I watch him, waiting for a sign or an inkling of remorse inside of him.
“Why are you here, Palmer? Because at the root of all this, you being here, in this room with all of us, makes no God damn sense.” He’s visibly shaken. Maybe it’s me being here, because he’s right about that. It makes no sense. I don’t owe them anything.
“You’re afraid of what I’m capable of,” I say to no one in particular.
“Because you’re capable of a lot.” Byron steps forward. “Just as your sister was.”
“And that gave you enough reason to turn a blade on me?” I close my eyes, overtaken by the sound of Byron’s voice. When I open them, I pin him to the wall with my stare. “I didn’t play into your part as the damsel in distress, so you made me into her.”
Marek protectively moves between us as Byron takes a step towards me. I don’t know if Marek’s precaution is for my safety or Byron’s.
“You’re right.” Byron holds up his hands.
“And you”— I point to Dixon— “at least have the decency to be able to look at me after what you did.”
“Hurting girls is not my M.O., Palmer.” He watches me as I walk over to him.
“Stand up,” I demand.
“What?” Dixon’s eyes dart around the room.
“For fuck’s sake, stand up, Dixon. Now.” I offer my hand, and he reluctantly takes it. I pull him up to his full height. He’s tall, and there’s a jaded darkness to him. “You’re so screwed up in your head, Dixon, and until you figure that shit out, you’ll always feel this way. If you touch another girl like you did me, I can promise you, I won’t be as forgiving.” I shove him back down into his seat.
“You’re forgiving me?” Dixon whispers. The sadness in his voice crushes my heart.
“Absolutely not. I just want to know who fucked you up this bad.” I turn my attention to Breaker. He jumps down when he realizes it’s his turn. “Don’t get me started with you. There’s such a strong part of your heart that wants to bring others down, to hold a little bit of control, to make yourself feel better. You pulled that shit with Delaney, and don’t think I’ll forgive you for hurting her so easily. Don’t take our friendship as a weakness inside of me. Ever hear the expression ‘keep your enemies close’?” I smack him in the chest, hug him, and spin on my heels.
“I guess it’s my turn then,” Marek says.
I shake my head and drop my stare to the floor. “No, I’m not ready for what you entail yet. I need time to think.”
“Is this your way of proving you’ve got our number?” Byron speaks up. “We got the message loud and clear.”
“No, you haven’t.” I scan the room and see the tools for the fireplace in their expensive holder. I march forward, grab the pointy one, and walk down the hallway.
“Where is she going?” Breaker yells.
Footsteps sound behind me, but I don’t stop. I push through Byron’s bedroom door, slamming it against the drywall. Irrationally, I check out everything in the room. I lift the fire poker and swing it against anything I can connect with.
“Holy shit!” Dixon shouts.
“Is anyone going to stop her?” Byron yells at some point.
Time doesn’t matter right now. Rage takes over, my emotions rioting inside me until they leave my body in fury and vengeance. This will never make any of it better. Any therapist could tell me that. In the moment, when the metal connects to glass, everything feels right in the world. Once I’m satisfied with leaving nothing in its original form, I stop, regulating my breathing.
“You crazy bitch!” Byron yells as I push past them.
I continue wreaking havoc until Breaker and Dixon’s room match their boy’s.
“Don’t you think she’s done enough damage?” Byron complains.
“No,” Marek says behind me. “Let her do this. We tried to destroy her. It’s only fair she’s given her chance to do the same to us.”
He steps aside, allowing me access to his room. Our eyes lock, and everything makes sense now. He understands me. It’s why he was able to talk me off the ledge when memories of Reed took over. It’s how, even when he was hurting me, my soul had been drawn to him.
He and I are the same.
I walk around his room, seeing it’s as neat as it was the night I was here.
“Do your worst, Palmer,” Marek says, startling me out of the stupor my anger and pent-up denial has created. I glance at him, and he shrugs. Only he and 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.