Page 78 of Paint the Town, Dove
“Says the girl who uses coffee creamer as a milk replacement for cereal.” Ryden ducked behind a pillow, knowing fully well I’d tackle his pirate ass to the ground.
“I told you that in confidence!”
I swatted at him with his rubber sword, Emory joining in behind me with her toy crown.
“Emory!” He yelled, face bubbling with laughter. “What did I do to you!”
“We’re a team, me and Scar!” She giggled, nudging my arm. “En garde!”
And we remained giddy like this, a trio of immortal beings – one pirate, one princess, and one…person, wrapped up in a cloak of invisibility. The music was too loud, the vibe too high that none of us heard the heavy steps bolting up the stairs, the silent pleas of Ryden’s mother chasing after the wolf who smelled blood.
The music was too loud.
We didn’t hear the click of the lock, see the turn of the knob until the door whipped right open –
“What the –”
And Corban’s fist collided with Ryden’s cheek.
***
“Oh my God!” Emory yelled, “stop! Stop!”
I watched as Ryden flew against the wall, hiked a few inches off the ground.
Blood. Blood spraying from his nose.
Blood on the floor.
Blood on his clothes, Corban’s – that must be Corban – and his mother, I looked at her, she was standing there, horrified, in shock – shock, that’s what it was – because if it wasn’t shock then it was complete neglect for her son – her son being pounded, over and over again by a man twice his size.
It had to be shock.
If it wasn’t, I didn’t know who to go after first.
I opted for the behemoth, grabbing Ryden’s guitar, ready to pelt the back of his fucking head.
“No!” His mom screamed from the doorway, “not Harley! Ryden loves Harley!”
I saw red.
“WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD LOVE YOUR SON!”
She froze in place, fingers shaking.
“SAVE YOUR FUCKING SON!” I shouted back, tossing Harley to the side and grabbing something – anything heavy – to hit this monster with – to stop him from hurting my –
My –
“GET THE FUCK OFF MY EAGLE!”
I didn’t know when Emory placed Ryden’s old soccer cleat in my hand, didn’t feel the blow when it connected with the base of his skull. Over and over again, I whacked him, blinded by rage and fear – so much fear that I could kill him – but so much power that I could stop this – end this torment, end Ryden’s suffering, his mom’s suffering –
My suffering.
There was this… quiet numbness when Corban collapsed to the ground.
Ryden slumped against the wall, lip busted and bruised, eye barely functioning. His breaths were ragged, eyes landing on me, then Emory, then his mother.
