Page 6 of My Best Friend Is Broken
Liam’s eyes widen, and his face drains of all color. “What if you get arrested?”
His fear is palpable. I can almost hear his heart racing, and now my heart wants to match his pace and take up his rhythm.
“I won’t!” I exclaim hurriedly. “It’s fine. I just do the boring stuff.” I’ve never outright lied to Liam before, but I think on this occasion it is forgivable.
Liam’s shoulders relax. His eyes turn a little less frantic before he looks away.
We stand in silence. Maybe he is tired? It could be the reason why he is not acting like himself. His leaving party was probably wild, and he is all kinds of hungover. Prison hooch must have quite a kick to it.
“Do you want to rest in your room?” I ask.
Liam looks up and blinks at me. “Do I?”
I stare at him.
“Um… yes. That sounds good.” He flushes.
I flash him a smile and pretend I don’t notice. There can’t be many opportunities to make decisions in prison. Adjusting is going to take time.
I show him to his room. He walks in, kicks his cheap sneakers off, and lies down on the bed, on top of the covers.
It is a big bed, a super king or something, but I still don’t understand why Liam looks so impossibly tiny in it. He is lying on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. And he looks swallowed up by the white comforter.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” I say.
Liam just nods without looking at me.
I step out and close the door. It clicks shut, and the sound is far too loud.
I wince and turn the handle, moving the door to an ajar position. That’s better. I’m not his prison guard.
He will feel better with the door like this, and much better after some sleep. A good rest, some food, and a little while to adjust, and Liam will be fine.
Everything is going to be fine.
Chapter three
Nicky
Aterrible, pleading scream shatters the night. It smashes into me and jolts me upright with my gun in my hand.
For one sharp, dizzy second, I think I’m under attack. The adrenaline is hot in my veins, metallic on my tongue.
I blink and focus on my dark bedroom. I’m home. It is the middle of the night. Was the scream merely a dream?
A pitiful whimpering sound seeps through the walls. My stomach churns. It wasn’t a dream. It was Liam. My best friend is screaming in his sleep.
I put my gun away and get out of bed. I pad silently down the hall to Liam’s room. The door is ajar, just like I left it hours ago.
He came out at dinnertime, and we ate pizza in front of the TV. Liam didn’t say much. He looked tired, and when I suggested an early night, he bolted.
And now he is having nightmares.
I push the door, and it swings silently open. Moonlight falls on the large bed, illuminating a curled-up figure under the covers. Fetal position. Facing me. He looks like he’s trying to make himself vanish.
I swallow and step forward. Liam’s breathing is too fast. It is hitching. From what I can tell by the shape of the covers, his knees are up to his chest and his head is tucked down. I think he is still lost in a dark dream.
I gently touch his shoulder.
