Page 54 of Burn

When I don’t respond, instead, I stare down one of my best friends. Ronan tries to break the tension by asking, “Okay, guys. Liberty, tell us about this place. What do you do all day?”

About this place? Tell them what I do all day? How do I tell the people who love me the most that I spend my days trying not to die? That I spend my days watching the only friend I made be beaten to death by the crooked and corrupt guards? My gaze flicks back to the wall of guards, still staring at me. Burgess has joined them, and his fists clench as he watches us. It creates a ripple across his thick forearms, and fuck, I don’t want them to punch me any more than they already have.

I need my parents to leave, take the guys with them, and ensure they never fucking come back here. My heart pounds in my chest, and it aches knowing what I’m about to do will devastate my parents. Likely end my friendship with guys I’ve known most of my life.

“I seem to recall telling you I didn’t want visitors,” I look right at my dad while I speak.

He sighs, a sad smile on his face, “Come on, Adrian. You can’t be serious. You can’t expect us to leave you completely isolated in here for a year?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I fucking expect from you.”

Every guard in the room is locked in on us. Listening for me to fuck up and let it slip that they’re playing roulette with the lives of teenagers, and the house always wins. We don’t stand a fucking chance in here.

“Adrian,” my mother’s strong voice cuts through, “You need to mind your manners. We all drove out here to see you, and this is unacceptable. You’re better than this. We didn’t raise you like this. We love you.”

Mom. Always strong. Always encouraging my strength.

God, I’m so sorry.

Ilaugh, the sound is sinister and icy, free from humor, and thick with disdain. It’s all a lie, and it’s a miracle I don’t burst into tears, but I push myself forward.

“Better?” I hiss, leaning onto the table, eyes locked on her. Her eyes widen at my tone. “I don’t know if you’ve looked around,Mom,”I emphasize the word as if it’s a hypothetical, and her mouth drops open in shock, “This is a fucking jail, and your precious son is a fucking criminal.That’show you raised me.”

My dad interrupts, “Adrian! That’s enough. You don’t speak to your mother like that.”

Ronan shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and I shift my attention to him, “You have something to say, Ronan?”

“Come on, man. Don’t treat your mom like that,” he says, sounding so sad as he speaks.

“Always a follower, huh, Ronan?” I taunt. He flinches as my words hit their mark. “The dumb, discount version of a sidekick. Can’t believe it took me coming here to see what a fucking loser you are.”

Colton huffs, a small, awkward laugh that has me targeting him, “And, you. That cocky fucking smirk. Want everyone to think you’re the good guy, huh?” His eyes flick to meet mine, “You’re a fucking joke, is what you are. I made you look better, made both of you look better, and I’m sick of carrying your dead fucking weight. I didn’t want to see you, any of you, because I finally realize how much fucking better my life is without you in it.” I look back at my parents’ horrified faces, “Yeah. My life is better in here. Imagine how fucking terrible it was at home, with you fucks?”

My mom stands first, tears threatening to spill over, and runs from the room. My stomach twists, guilt slamming through me.

Ronan is up next. He doesn’t say anything and follows after my mom. Colton’s expression crushes me. The hurt in his eyes so fucking evident, and I realize now that the room is silent as every other table watches the interaction.

His voice cracks a little when he says, “I love you, man.”

Memories with these two flash through my mind as I watch them walk out the door. Winning hockey games, drinking our first beer, so many laughs and good times that I’m watching slip away with each fucking step they take. I try to remind myself it’s worth it. Their safety is worth it. But, fuck it hurts like hell.

Now it’s just my dad and I at the table. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is set in a flat, disgusted line. He slowly stands, and scans the room, momentarily pausing on the row of guards on the wall behind him, before coming back to face me.

He leans forward, lowers his voice, and says, “I’ve been a cop for a long time, Adrian. I know criminals. I know how to read people. Above all else, I know my son.”

I try to cut him off, “You don’t know shit,”

“Shut the fuck up, Adrian. I know my son. I know these places.” He pushes himself up, rounds the table, and pulls me to my feet and back into a hug, whispering, “If this is how you get out of this place in one piece, then do it.”

He releases me, takes two steps toward the door before turning back and saying, “We won’t be back, Adrian. You need to get your shit together.”

My hands shake as I watch him disappear down the hall toward the exit.

I look back at the guards, each with a satisfied smile on their faces.

Raw

Adrian

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