Page 27 of Protecting Paul

“That’s not your fucking choice to make,” Jerry booms. It’s like something’s snapped in him. He’s more unhinged than I’ve ever seen him. In an instant, he clears the space between us and grabs my arm. I can smell the booze on his breath as he gets in my face. “You asked for trouble the second you came here, you piece of shit. Your dad was right. You’re a worthless abomination.”

Even though it shouldn’t, that stings. It sounds exactly like every time my dad ever says that to me, and tears well up in my eyes.

“Oh, there you go,” Jerry laughs mockingly. His laugh is evil, pure fucking evil. “Crying like the pansy you are. You’re pathetic, Paul. I thought you’d have toughened up by now, but you’re even more of a faggot than before.”

“You’re the pathetic one,” I spit back. My voice is shaky. I manage to glare at him through my tears. “Bullying your own nephew for nothing. Freeloading and squatting in a house that’s not yours. I thoughtyou’dhave toughened up by now, maybe gotten a real life.”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Jerry growls. “Good night, Paul.”

I open my mouth to ask what the fuck that means, but then I feel a crushing pain in the side of my head. The last thing I remember is my uncle’s taunting laugh as the world goes black.

15

Sam

Ifuckedup.Ididn’t mean to, but I can push past my pride and admit I fucked up. I seem to be habitually saying things I think will make Paul happy, but they just upset him. We were on the same page for a while, but now… Well, now things might be over for good.

Paul made it clear our relationship was going nowhere, which dashed any of my wishful thinking. I was stupid to let those thoughts happen in the first place. I shouldn’t have let him go, regardless. I’ve been worried about him since I watched his car drive away.

When I get to work, I’m on edge. Sanchez notices instantly and calls me out. I tell him it’s just nerves for the stakeout. Once again, he tells me I should stay at the precinct while he and Andrews head over. I don’t even try to argue this time. I do give him a head’s up that Paul headed over there late last night, so he’ll be there when they show up.

“Sanchez?” I call out as I watch him leave. He turns and looks at me. “Just… make sure you get this guy, okay?”

“I will,” he assures, and I believe him. He knows how important this is to me. He salutes me as he walks off, and I laugh softly.

I realize shortly after Sanchez and Andrews leave that I hadn’t asked them to confirm with me that Paul is there. I go back and forth in my head for a minute, but I know I’ll never be able to concentrate on work without knowing. I bite the bullet and text Sanchez.

Is Paul there? I just need to know he’s okay. I’m worried about him.

Sanchez texts me back immediately. I close my eyes and pray to whatever powers that may be for good news. When I check the message, it’s anything but good.

His car is here but no sign of him. Is it possible he walked somewhere? If not, I’ll knock on the door.

I tell him that Paul’s ribs are still bruised, so it’s unlikely he’d be walking far distances. Downtown isn’t too far, but it’s too far to walk with fucked-up ribs. Sanchez says he will knock on the door, and I wait. It’s excruciating.

No answer. I knocked a lot too. Try calling him and get back to me.

Sanchez doesn’t say it, but this doesn’t look good. If Paul isn’t home, I can’t imagine any scenario where this ends well. I call him three times, but his phone goes to voicemail each time. Fuck.

Even if Paul is mad at me, he knows what’s happening today. There’s no way he would willingly ignore me three times when we’re in the middle of trying to arrest his uncle. I’m sure of that.

No response. I’m getting worried, Sanchez. He wouldn’t ignore me today of all days. I’m heading over there.

I don’t give Sanchez the chance to dissuade me. I’m in my cruiser within minutes, heading that way. I hop out and begin banging on the door the second I arrive. I bang on the door until my knuckles are stinging and red.

“Conroy, calm down!” I hear Sanchez say behind me. I turn to him, and he looks worried behind belief. “Take a few breaths. Let’s just go inside and see what it looks like.”

I nod, and we try the doorknob. It’s unlocked. That gives the foreboding feeling inside of me more fuel. Paul would never leave the door unlocked like that. When it swings open, the inside looks more destroyed than ever.

We step over the disastrous scene. I notice something that makes my blood run cold. There’s a red puddle near the sliding glass door. I jog over and squat down to inspect it.

“Sanchez, this looks like blood,” I say, my voice cracking. Sanchez squats beside me, and his silence tells me he knows I’m right. If he had any doubts, he would vocalize them to reassure me.

“I hate to say it, but you’re right.” Sanchez sighs heavily and stands up. I hear him call the station behind me, but I can’t make out his exact words. My head is in such disarray I can’t perceive my surroundings. It’s like I’m dissociating to handle this. “Conroy?”

I stand up when he says my last name and look at him. He seems more concerned than before and settles a hand on my back, guiding me outside. I take in huge gulps of air, leaning back against the porch. My legs feel weak.

“His uncle… He’s capable of anything,” I manage to say. My voice is tight, on the verge of breaking. “We have to find them as soon as possible, Sanchez. The guy has nothing to lose. He hates Paul. You don’t understand the extent to which he hates him. If we don’t find Paul soon, he could be-”

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