Page 27 of Pocketful of Shame

"The alleyway?" both boys asked and I could feel their eyes burning into my skin from the rearview mirror. "What alleyway?"

"That's where they beat him." Numb. "Then shot him." I was so fucking numb. "And then left him to bleed out."

Sketch and Presley were both shouting, but I zoned them out, unwilling to take another trip down that particular memory lane.

"You need to pull over and let me drive," Presley commanded when the truck swerved into the middle of the road.

"I've got it," Sketch snapped, straightening the wheel.

"You clearly don’t and I refuse to be another teenage roadkill statistic, so pull the fucking truck over."

"You saw this, Ro?" Sketch demanded, voice cracking. "You watched it happen?"

I nodded weakly. "Saw it. Heard it."

"Jesus Christ," he strangled out, truck swerving again. "And this Catochi prick? He's responsible?"

"He's one of four," I replied, numb.

"One of four?"

"Four men," I confirmed, clenching my eyes shut as a tremor racked through me. "One Chris."

"Romi, you need to tell us everything," Presley said in a much calmer tone.

"I don’t remember," I whispered.

"Bullshit," Sketch snarled. "Don’t fucking lie now."

"Calm down," Presley snapped. "Shouting at her won't do any good."

"She remembers," Sketch growled.

"Maybe I don’twantto remember," I shot back, body rigid. "Maybe I'm not supposed to."

"That makes no sense," Sketch hissed.

"Maybe it does. Maybe it makes perfect sense," Presley muttered, turning in his seat to face me. "Did someone tell you to forget, Romi?"

Body locked tight with tension, I nodded stiffly and plucked at an invisible thread on the sweatpants Sketch had given me, while desperately trying to empty my mind.Don’t think about it. It hurts too much. Just keep on forgetting. You're not ready for the truth. Close your mind…

"Tell us, Romi."

"She can't."

"Yes, she can," Sketch argued. "Come on, Ro. You can do it. I know you can."

You can do it.

I know you can.

Breathing hard and fast, I tried to steady myself, but mental images continued to ravage me. "If I talk,youdie," I strangled out, fingers digging into my flesh. "If I leave Pocketful, you die. If I put a foot wrong,youdie!"

"I know you're scared, Romi," Presley replied, tone thick with emotion. "Of remembering. Of something happening to Sketch, but if you don’t tell us, we can't protect you or ourselves."

"We're sitting ducks here, Ro," Sketch said in agreement. "Completely defenseless unless you start talking."

"Defenseless." I flinched. "That's what he said."

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