Page 51 of Addicted

“I didn’t have some grand epiphany, not really. It was just a dream. We’d painted over the sparkly black wall that day, and that night I saw my mom. I was at some kind of ceremony, and she had on a sparkly black dress, and she was screaming and jumping up and down. I woke up feeling warm for the first time in a long time.”

Denise’s hands covered mine, but I couldn’t look at her.

“So, I told them I was out. And they said they would let me, I just had to do something that would cement me to them forever, in case I ever flipped.”

I could feel Denise’s fingers tightening on mine, but I couldn’t see her, I could only see him.

The alley was dark, but the cherry of his cigarette flaming gave me a hint of his shadowy face. My hands were sweaty as I walked over to him. I wasn’t dumb, I played up my age, I even had an empty backpack slung over my shoulder.

Gripping the switchblade tight in my pocket, I looked up at him and paused.

“Rudy?”

He looked at me, still puffing on the cigarette between his lips.

“Why?”

I gave him an innocent smile, even though I could feel the sweat beading at my neck beneath myhoodie.

“My moms sent me, she said to give you the money she owes.”

He leaned closer and he smiled.

“And who’s your m—”

He didn’t get out the word. I’d dug the blade into his neck and pulled as hard as I could to the side before I ran. I ran and I ran. I didn’t stop until I saw an encampment. They had a few buckets on fire, and I knew I was covered in evidence.

“Do you mind?” I asked, my voice shaking.

The black man was older, and he watched me warily before shaking his head.

I stripped down—taking off my jeans, my sweater, my shirt, my shoes—and wiped furiously at the blood on my skin before throwing it all into the flames.

Standing there in my tank top and bs, the burning smell of nylon rose up and stung my nose. I was still holding the knife. I didn’t know what to do with it. It wouldn’t turn to ash if I burned it, and I couldn’t keep it.

After a moment, a hand reached out and grabbed the knife. I watched that man pull the pieces apart, wipe it clean, and throw a few pieces into the fire and the rest into hisbasket.

“I better not see you again,” his voice was angry, but his tone was soft. His hand wiped at tears on my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“Fix your face and go on home.”

And I did.

“I killed him. It wasn’t on the news or anything, but I heard that they’d found a body. But I was out, so I didn’t ask questions. It was a long time ago, but it’s something that I carry with me, someone that I put away.”

I stood, not being able to handle sitting anymore.

“The tattoo is a reminder of what I did for my second chance. But Switch is still in here, I can’t pretend he’s not. You deserved the truth. I’m sorry, I’ll just leave you here to pack or unpack.”

I walked away, fighting every urge to look back at her. She hadn’t said anything. I didn’t even know what I would say if someone hit me with something like that it.

Saying those words and reliving those moments, that had been much harder than I expected it to be. I hadn’t thought about that man in decades. I’d refused to. He was a bad man. One of the guys in my crew, Ricky, had said he’d roughed up some girl he knew. He was guilty. That’s probably why the cops didn’t look too hard into his murder.

They’d never found me.

I didn’t know what was going to happen next. If I’d wake up and find Denise gone. If I had just ruinedeverything. But I had to do it. I had to tell her. I’d spent a long time being disciplined and rigid, but like Grams said, I needed to take a chance and push.

I needed to be honest because that’s what Denise deserved.

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