Page 32 of Ruthless Consequences

I’m sitting on my hands because they’re trembling, and I don’t know what to do with them.

The urge to have chocolate is strong. So strong that I’m imagining the first rip of the wrapper. The first sight of it. My eyes closing as it comes close to my lips. The first hit when the sweetness hits my tongue. My entire body giving in to it and relaxing into my skin.

That’s not going to happen though.

I’m one of those kids the school provides lunch for. Even though I don’t eat, it’s there. It’s especially useful as a coverup, so I can hide a candy bar underneath the tray when I don’t have the extra money to buy it. Usually, I have some spare change that Sonny leaves around. But I couldn’t find any that morning, and the lunch lady caught me trying to steal the candy bar.

She slapped my hand, and the entire school seemed to see it. Ava snapped and told her off, coming close to her face, and they escorted her out.

No telling if they’ll call Sonny or not. No telling if he’ll answer if they do.

I take a deep breath and try to calm the chaos inside of myself. This is usually my time to let go. To...forget. Or maybe to bury.

I try to clear the negative thoughts. To do what the counselor told me to do. She told me to build a place inside of my head. It could be anywhere. It could look however I wanted.

A cabana on some exotic beach. Crystal clear water outside with peaceful waves rushing in and out.

A hidden cabin in the hills, surrounded by an emerald green forest.

A swanky Manhattan penthouse on the hundredth floor, all of New York hustling and bustling below.

A church with stained glass windows that coats the pews in a kaleidoscope of colors.

No matter what place I imagine myself in, though, only safe thoughts are allowed in with me.

It's not a place that comes to mind but him.

It's been over a week since I've seen him, and I'm not sure what hurts worse: the thought of him ignoring me, pretending like the things he said and did never happened, or not having my candy bar in this self-imposed solitude.

Him.

Definitely him.

I've been obsessing over him since that night.

My darkness. My Shadow Man.

I build my safe place around him, even if the smell of vomit lingers in the air. The janitor left the mop and bucket not far from where I took a seat. It’s rank, but I push through. I remember how he smelled. Like leather, lingering alcohol, and...musk, maybe. A tinge of coppery blood from his wound. I remember how his skin felt against mine. His hands were warm and rough, but the rest of him was hot and smooth.

The door opens and closes right when I’m getting to the best part—imagining our first kiss. I’m sure Mr. Fred is going to tell me I need to leave and burst the safe bubble the counselor told me to envision. While he waits for me to move, he’ll look for the evidence, candy wrappers, to bring back to Nolan. He won’t find any today, but I’ll still have to go. Which is a major bummer because I really don’t want to be in school.

I’d rather be anywhere else. Anywhere but here.

Most kids my age would want to skirt around their responsibilities at home. I cook for everyone and clean up whatever messes are made, but that’s fulfilling to me. This place is not.

A few seconds pass. I’m not sure, but I can feel Mr. Fred looking at me. I open my eyes because it’s kind of freaking me out. He’s being too quiet.

“Oh,” I say, and if I could move my head back, I would. The wall blocks me from doing so. “It’s you.”

His nose is scrunched up. “That fucking smell,” he says.

“It’s not me. But I agree. It is bad.”

“It must be worse for you out there,” he says, nodding his head toward the door, which means outside, in the halls, “if you’re willing to sit with that smell instead.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say. Or if I’m breathing. I was just thinking of him and…here he is. Right in front of me, sitting on his haunches, his hands on my knees. The heat from his palms burns through my jeans.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers.

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