K A D E N

After graduation, the days seemed to pass by quickly. I hardly remembered what happened on these days. The only time I did feel like I was truly awake was when I was at Joseph's house. It still confused me as to why I was there in the first place. I remembered talking to a few people but nothing that they said. I floated through the crowds until I saw her in the garden.

I felt it then. The surge of jealousy running through my veins as Phoenix leaned in towards Zach. I hadn't stayed to see what unfolded. Even now, my fingers couldn't help but twitch at the thought of it. How much I wanted to turn around and punch Zach senseless.

The ping of the coffee machine brought me back to reality. I was back in my own apartment for the time being, picking up some extra clothes to take back to my parent's house. A shiver had run down my spine when I crossed the spot I'd fallen. The gravel was clear of any blood that had spilled that day due to the rain. It was like it never happened at all.

But it had. No matter how much I tried, it would forever be ingrained in my memory. Most nights, the thought gnawed away at me along with Noah's voice telling me to do something. For so long, I'd remained still and I realised that maybe he was right. I had everything and nothing to lose.

So that's why I went to the police station. I was terrified the moment I'd stepped in. It brought back memories of my earlier years which I'd have liked to forget. When I went up to the front desk it was an even bigger challenge asking if I could speak to the detective. They'd told me to wait so I had, rigid until he'd arrived. One look at me and he told one of his colleagues to bring me a glass of water, though that didn't really do any good.

He'd taken me into one of the interrogation rooms and from then on was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Reliving everything that had happened on that night-- Dante tricking me, finding the dead body and then some. Reliving what had happened to Martin Bridges. To Zach. To me. It was like I was permanently stuck in my nightmares with no way of escape. My hands stayed fisted throughout the whole ordeal, right up until he pressed the stop button on the recorder.

"You've finally come around." He'd said after pocketing the recorder.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"A street camera caught you near Martin Bridges residence on the night he died." He paused but I was too stunned to speak. The detective had known all along. "I was waiting to hear your side of things."

"Why?" He could have brought me in for questioning weeks ago. The fact that he hadn't justified why he'd made so many house visits since the incident.

"I know what it's like to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wanted to give you a chance." He explained. "You remind me of myself when I was your age." So his actions were more out of pity than anything else. "I hope this has proven to you that I'm on your side. You did the right thing coming here, Kaden."

I watched him silently.

"Your testimony could be the key to locking Dante away for good." He continued. "At least now you know you have a shot."

He didn't notice the irony of his words. I'd wanted to believe him but something told me I'd put myself in even deeper trouble. That it was only going to get worse from then on.

"Detective," I said as he was getting up. "You'll keep your end of the deal?"

"Dante's behind bars. You don't need to be afraid anymore."

"I don't care what happens to me." I sighed. "Can you promise me nothing will happen to my parents?"

"You and your family will be protected. I promise." He said it with so much certainty that I was almost convinced.

After I'd left the police station the next logical thing to do was go to my parents. I'd long been keeping the truth from them and I knew I couldn't avoid it any longer. So I told them about going to the station, what I'd told the detective. There was no point in hiding anymore. Everything would come out sooner or later. It made me wonder what other things the Detective knew regarding me and Dante.

My mom cried. My dad hugged me. Neither of them blamed me for what happened, but a part of me wished they had. To give me something else to focus on instead of playing the waiting game. The detective had said it'd be a month and a half before Dante went on trial. I had until then to prepare myself for the witness stand. I wasn't the only one who was worried.

Despite my parents' hawk-like attitude over me, they couldn't be around 24/7. At times like this, I found myself coming back to my place, passing that spot on the gravel like a ghost. I did mindless chores around the house, like attempting to fix my coffee table. I'd gotten the hammer and nails out before realising that my arm was in a sling but still, that didn't stop me. I sat cross-legged in front of the table trying to hold the nail steadily in place with the tips of my fingers. I managed two hits of the hammer before my injured arm jerked to one side.

A sharp pain shot up my shoulder as I yelled profanity. I leaned against the couch until the throbbing resided. Even though I'd barely done anything, I'd worked up a sweat. I didn't have to be here, I reminded myself by looking at the clock. But then I'd have been doing the same thing at my parent's place.

Getting up with a groan, I went upstairs where I passed the locked room. All there were was verticles lines running across a wall. Time passing. I didn't know how long it had been since I'd been back in there. I went into the bathroom where I was running low on Advil. The cabinet above the sink was bare but I couldn't remember when I'd taken the broken mirror down. I swallowed two pills, washing it down with tap water only when I looked back up, I noticed the bottle of shampoo on the side.

It was peach scented and I found myself inhaling the bottle deeply. The memories were something I did remember. Of her. She'd always put it on after we were in the shower together.

I lingered where I was for a while before putting the shampoo inside the cabinet and returning to the kitchen. Except it wasn't empty anymore. Sam was there. It should have worried me how easily he'd gotten in without me noticing but I merely joined him in staring at the fruit bowl. The only fruit in it was an apple and it had started to mold.

My coffee cup was still on the counter from where I'd left it earlier. It had probably gone cold. My fingers drummed against my vibrating knees as my mind drifted off again. As always, I thought of Phoenix.

That night I was the closest I'd been to her since the dance. I remembered how she pulled her arm back as if I'd burned her. Her tattoo poked out of her jacket, looking brighter than usual. Her hair was up that night, some of it escaping from her bun that I wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ears.

"It's not worth it."

It was only four small words. But they were enough to make me feel like I'd been punched in the gut. I swallowed hard but only got so far with the lump in my throat. Now, every time I thought of that night, I remembered those words. They ran through my head until I silenced them by falling into unconsciousness. It was a sweet but temporary escape.

"Kaden?" A hand waved across my vision. "You just spaced out. And why do you smell of peaches?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked Sam.

"I was bored." He shrugged.

"Don't you have any friends?"

"That's rich coming from you." He snorted under his breath and then, "You sure you should be here after. . . you know?"

"After I was shot." I deadpanned. "Let's not waste new tears on the past. That's something my favourite film said."

"That's deep."

"Yeah."

"Well, I didn't come here to get even more bored." He jumped off the stool. "I want a rematch."

"You're going to lose. Again."

"Please, I was going easy on you."

"So you just let me win all those times?" I raised my brow in half-amusement.

"Technically you're disabled and I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"You just did." I feigned him punching me in the chest.

He rolled his eyes. "Prepare to lose." He waited a beat, "Loser."

"You wound me."

Sam and I spent the rest of the evening playing video games. He'd won a couple times so I had wondered if he had gone easy on me before. But then again, even with one hand on the controller, I still beat him a significant amount.

I sent Sam home before it got dark. I didn't want the Detective coming with another one of his visits. Nothing good ever seemed to come out of those. And just as I was about to leave myself a while later, there was a knock at the door. I knew it wasn't Sam.

My muscles instantly stiffened. It was almost completely dark outside and the lights would have notified anyone that someone was in the house. The knock came again though it was more like banging.

I warily opened the door. When I saw it was Taylor, it took me a second to shut the door again. My delayed response gave her enough time to stick her foot out.

"Just hear me out, please."

"I want nothing to do with you."

"Please." She tried again. "I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say." There was an air of chaos about her. Her hair was messed and her clothes were poorly put together. She looked as if she'd been sleeping for a few days.

I opened the door a little wider but otherwise barred her from entering. "You can say it here."

She took in a deep breath before blurting out, "I'm sorry. I panicked and I didn't know what was going to happen so I just--"

"Stole my car and ran off?" I finished off. My voice was surprisingly level.

"I didn't steal it. I made sure to leave it where someone would find it." She clarified, making a head gesture to the driveway. "See, it worked out."

I sighed and began to shut the door, my patience having run out. Again, she pushed against the wood. This time it was with more force and she made it into the hallway.

"Get ou--"

"Just please, give me a chance to explain myself."

"Time's up."

"I wasn't finished." She ran a hand through her hair in agitation. "I'm sorry I left you like that. I couldn't risk it. . . I couldn't take any chances." She ended vaguely.

"Do you even know what happened after you bolted?"

"I assumed it was a setup. Who was it?" I wasn't fazed by how bluntly she put it. She was clearly familiar, as was I, to the way Dante worked.

"A guy. He was already dead when I got there."

Taylor paced back and forth, running a hand through her hair. "But you got out in time right? I mean, you're here." She paused. "What happened to your arm?"

I ignored her question. "How much do you know?"

"I know Dante's in jail. Finally, that bastard's getting what he deserves."

"There's a trial."

She stopped pacing. "What?"

"For the murder of Martin Bridges." Just saying the dead man's name made bile rise at the back of the throat.

"Murder." Taylor repeated back to me quiet whisper.

I sighed. "I told the detective what happened that night."

"You went to the police?" Her face was crestfallen before turning into an expression of hysteria. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I'm tired of this shit. I want it to end." I went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Taylor followed, getting angrier by the second.

"Do you know what this means. For me? I can't go to trial. . . I can't. . . I can't. . ." I waited a few moments of her pulling at her hair and continuously pacing before deciding to end her misery.

"I didn't give them your name."

She stopped abruptly. "You didn't?"

I shook my head. I had told the detective the events of that forsaken night except for one crucial detail. And that was her. It still puzzled me as to why I was protecting Taylor. After all, she'd deserted me to save her own skin.

"Why?" She questioned.

"I don't know." I said truthfully.

I remembered the first time I met Taylor. It was in rehab. She'd been in for petty theft and developed a daunting personality with it. She was also one of the first acquaintances I'd made whilst I was in there. And I say acquaintance rather than friend because that's all our relationship was: an agreement.

"Well, thanks." She cleared her throat. "I appreciate it." There was a pregnant pause before she asked, "So what happened to you?"

"Take a wild guess."

A pause and then, "Dante."

"Bingo."

"That bastard." She muttered. "What are you going to say? At the trial."

"I don't know, Taylor." I rubbed my throbbing temple.

"Right, sorry. I should leave." She turned to do so but just before she passed the threshold, I called her back.

"Wait." I went to where I'd left my bag and rummaged around the front pockets until I found what I was looking for. I placed it in Taylor's palm. "You owe me."

She glanced at her hand, at the orange plastic. "Kaden--"

"I don't care how you get it."

She slowly nodded, "Alright." As she was leaving, she turned back once more and said, "I'm sorry."