Page 117 of Clinch'd

When I was sixteen, I had a girlfriend who was hooked on the shit. At the time I didn’t see it. To me, she was fun and wild, which is what I needed while I grieved the loss of my dad and sister, carrying a good dose of guilt along with it.

It’s only after my mom confronted me, hysterical about the path I was going down, that I started to come home more. I knew I was out of control but when you’re that age, you can’t see shit beyond surviving.

I broke it off after that and when I saw her a few years later, painfully thin, and haunted, I saw what had made Mom so worried. I only wish I had been able to help Sheena the way she deserved. Another failure to add to the damn list.

“Any progress?” Beast asks and once again, I glance behind me.

I don’t want Beast involved in this and I don’t trust him with my sister, but he’s been just as invested in getting her home as I have.

He deserves to know she’s safe now, which is why I grudgingly say, “I found her.”

“What? You planning on telling me, bro?”

“Fuck off. I’m literally driving her home right now,” I growl.

He pauses and I take the time to exit before driving down a back street that will get us home.

“She, okay?” he finally asks.

When I hesitate, he barks, “What?”

“Nothing. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” he grunts, and I wince because I know I’m being a dick, but I have to protect Monroe. Beast is a big boy, he’ll get the fuck over it.

“Where was she?”

“Hanging out with a buncha wannabe gang bangers,” I say.

The little fuckers were so high they barely batted an eye when I stormed in and demanded to know where she was. I’m still scratching my head over that one.

How did Monroe end up there? These were practically children, living in a rundown house with no fucking furniture besides beds on the floor.

What was she thinking?

“Hm,” Beast says, and I silently concur.

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” I grunt, hanging up before he can respond.

When we finally pull into the drive, I put the car in park and stare at my childhood home.

So many memories invade my mind, both amazing and completely wretched, but it’s good to be home and with my sister in tow.

Thank fuck. She’s alive.

I turn around to touch her shoulder but pause when my phone buzzes.

Fucking Beast, I think before finding a text from my brother. It’s unusual for us to communicate because it’s dangerous which is why I’m appropriately curious, especially to find an image within.

When I click on the picture, for a moment, all I see is Minnie and I pause. She’s sitting in a booth at the diner where she works which I recognize after finding her there to get my revenge.

I can’t see the man sitting opposite her but my heart thumps when I search the features of the other.

It’s him. The man who killed our father. I will never forget his cold blue eyes as he raised the trigger and shot my dad followed by Kelly. All while I hid behind the bar with my fist in my mouth because Dad ordered me to.

I know I would be dead if I hadn’t, but I’m still filled with regret that I didn’t try and do something. What I’ll never know. I was unarmed and no match for the brutal killers sent to make my dad an example.

Why is Minnie sitting with the man who killed my father?

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