Summary: Is honesty always the best policy? I blink. Trish doing something bad? Shocker. I would never have thought of that. Okay, calm down. No need to be an asshole before hearing him out. Though, I don't think anything Trish did could be worse than she had already- "She messed with Fang's guitar." I freeze. The world stops. I stop. My heart stops, my brain stops, my limbs stop, my whole fucking body seems to have turned into a single block of lead, devoid of feeling or thought. She DID WHAT Time resumes. My body is still. Almost as still as it was just moments ago. Pain. I look down at my hands - they're curled up into fists so tightly, that my knuckles have turned white. My nails are digging into my palms. Then, a wave of cold washes over me, starting at the head and flowing down like a tsunami, flooding every nook and cranny of my body, from the top of my head, to the tips of my fucking toes. Subtle, yet somehow intense trembling follows, joined by gritted teeth, a hateful grimace, brows furrowed so much that they form a single line and coldness in my face. Reed leans away, his eyes twice as wide, pupils shrinking. He raises his hands in a defensive gesture. Guy's rigid with fear. It's a miracle his hair isn't standing on ends. His tail brushes the sand, rapid, swishing, jerking motions. "Excuse me-" I have to pause. I can't speak. Trish was messing with Fang's guitar? I will mess with her fucking neck! Fucking trig bitch, I'll stomp her into the dirt- "When." I look at Reed, hard. He stifles a nervous chuckle. "Whoa, calm down, dude-" "When, Reed?" I cut him off. "During our last rehearsal, maybe a day before the prom?" He chuckles nervously, looking away, towards the city. He's clearly considering running. That cools me off somewhat. Calm the fuck down, dumbass. He didn't do it. Even if he didn't tell you earlier, he still was the one to propose this meetup. He wants to make amends - unlike that salad gobbling cocksucker of a trike - and that's worth a lot. Calm, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Relax. In. Out. In. Out. Aaaand… we're calm. "Sorry." I mutter. "How do you know this?" "Uh, I've fucking been there?" He frowns at me. "And you didn't fucking do anything?" Reed drums on the table with his fingers. Suddenly, he stops and slams his fist down. It creaks and rattles under the force of impact, making me jump and lean away. His hand left a considerable dent in the wood. He's glaring at me now, teeth half-bared, eyes narrowed. "What the fuck was I supposed to do?" He growls, then continues, in a much calmer tone. "It wasn't the first time Trish was handling Fang's guitar. We are…" he pauses. "Were in a band together, remember?" He growls for a second time, with his teeth showing again. "Why the fuck would I think that Trish was going to pull shit like this?" Oh fuck, he's right. It's my turn to raise my hands. "I'm sorry, Reed." I sigh. "It's just… what happened, it all…" Blood. Bullet holes. Body bags. I shiver. Then freeze, as I feel Reed's hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. He's staring at me again, but not angrily, nor expectantly this time. It's a look of reassurance. "It's cool." He pats my shoulder and sits up straight. "You saved her life, dude. I owe you big time." "And Trish?" He growls softly, turning his head to the side. "I don't know what she's up to." he gives me a short glare. "The last time I saw her was at the police station." "Have you talked with Fang?" He gives me a prolonged, sidelong look. "No. Their dad wouldn't let me. He said something about fabricating testimonies." He shrugs. "I really, really don't like him, dude. Guy has always been all tensed up, but now, after…" he pauses, swallows and puts his head down, staring at the dent he made in the wood. He reaches out and starts rubbing at it, mechanically and slowly at first. He quickly picks up the pace, and as he does, his face contorts into a grimace of loss and desperation. He narrows his eyes, his breath quickens slightly. Finally he smacks the dent a couple of times, each hit accentuated with a quiet, muffled growl-hiss. I pat his forearm. He stops and looks at me. It takes a fuckton of willpower for me not to recoil at the sadness in his eyes and despondency on his face. Fucking hell, he is not in a good state of mind, as Doc Jones would put it. He sighs and shakes his head. Such a dejected fucking sigh. Come on, dude, brighten up. Hm yes, his friend killed fifteen people, including her own brother, not to mention herself almost joining the tally. Brighten up, sport! Drink some ice tea! Okay, conscience, maybe not brighten up , but at least relax. "I know, dude. I know. I was there, after…" I rub my forehead. "After it happened." "Yes, I saw you fall down the stairs on TV." I almost expect him to smirk, but he's serious. "No wonder. Seeing shit like this…" his eye twitches. "I don't think I would be able to handle it." Ripley, cradling Naser. Hugging him, begging for forgiveness. Naomi's mother, screaming. Fang, rushing towards death. "But let's not think about that now." Reed leans back, pats the table a couple times with his hands and lets out a weak, quaky laugh. "Trish. What a bitch, huh?" I nod. Trish fucked with Fang's guitar. I wonder if she interfered with the search for the string as well. Why not? If she went that far, why not keep going? But why? Why would she do something like this? Why sabotage what was supposed to be their band's glorious return? Wasn't she the one who was at the forefront of things? What was going inside your head, Trish, what is going inside it? Are you some kind of psycho? Her attitude towards me and any other who somehow wronged or hurt Fang would point to a degree of being fucking mental. So very protective of Fang, but at the same time pulling this shit. This makes no sense. Who the fuck knows what she'd do if the prom concert was a success. Who knows, who cares. It is not what had happened. Fucking trike. You can fuck with me all you want, I'm not your friend. I'm a stranger, the new kid on the block. But to tear Fang down like this? Your best friend? What, was she hoping to fucking, one up me somehow? "I-" I sigh, rub my stubbled chin and look at Reed, who's been waiting for me to say something for the past few minutes. "Fucking hell, are you sure you saw her do something to Fang's-" I pause suddenly. "Wait. Before the concert, when you were in the music room. Did you look for the string or what?" He sits up straight, as rigid as a metal pole. Then, he looks down, rests his jaw in his palms and sighs heavily. He looks up at me without lifting his head. He's so fucking sad. Trish, I will fucking crack your skull the next time I see you. I'll grab a brick. A stone. A big stick and whack you with it. Whether you were scared of me taking Fang away from you or not, you should have realized what you were doing. I don't care for anyone, anything. I just want to cruise through life, slip through the cracks like a fucking cockroach, but you? The oh so high and mighty "Oh look at me I'm Fang's best fucking friend!" you? It couldn't have been a result of stupidity or short sightedness. You planned this shit out meticulously, more so than Naomi did with her puppeteering of me and Fang. She let her tongue slip. You kept it all in. "We were looking for the string." I stop daydreaming and turn my attention to him. He has it to its fullest. I need to know, I have to know what happened after I left the music room. "But Trish wasn't helping. Well, helping a lot. " He scoffs. "She kept hurrying us up, telling us that we don't have time and that we would be late." I can feel my hands clenching again. Pain. It increases. I don't give a shit. The cold shivers of rage are back as well. Blood is gone from my face too, judging from the weak tingling and slight stiffness. But my expression is calm. I am calm, I think. I should be angry. I should be screaming, jumping, roaring like a caveman, going nuclear at nothing. But, I just feel… empty. I don't feel anything. Only a slight pulsing of the vein on my forehead. Is this what they call silent rage? "So she was so very fucking eager to see Fang's downfall?" I say. It's almost surprising how calm my voice is. Almost. Reed starts and stares at me, wide-eyed. He shuffles away a little. "Calm down, dude." He beckons. "I am calm, Reed." I tell him. "Please," I take a slow, calm breath. "Continue." He looks unsure, but gives a slight nod and picks up where he left off. "At first Fang told her to fuck off and kept looking." That's my girl. "But Trish finally wore them down." Fuck you Trish. I'm not free from fault here, far from it, but fuck you. "I'm sure Spears would have given us extra time, if we'd have asked him." Reed lays his head down onto the table, beaten and dejected. "But Trish kept us away from him somehow. She kept telling us that we must play, now now NOW!" He jolts upright and slams both fists down onto the table. It rattles again, but this time I don't even flinch. I just observe him. He looks at me, a spark of anger in his eyes. He then slumps over again, the burst of energy burnt out. "You saw the rest." He looks up at me from the tabletop. "We ran away. Abandoned them on the stage. I was so fucking embarrassed, man…" he clenches his eyes shut. "I was panicked. It was a catastrophe." I reach out and grab his shoulder, then give it a squeeze. He looks up at me. His eyes are wet. Don't tell me he's going to cry. Why wouldn't he be crying, you absolute imbecile? "I went home and…" he sits up and lowers his head, so much that his snout is touching his chest. "I took carfe. A lot." He covers his eyes. "I have never taken so much. I think I overdosed a little." "Fuck, Reed-" "Then I woke up." He continues, ignoring my interjection. "And I turned on the TV. I saw you, tumbling down the stairs. That scared the hell out of me." He looks at me. "That's why I called you." He pauses. "And you know? You were right." I blink. I didn't expect to hear that from him. "I was?" He nods and lifts his head. He rests his jaw in his hand and his elbow on the table. He looks somewhere out to the sea. "About me taking this stuff when Fang needed me." He smacks the table, much more lightly than before. "Fang called me on that day, you know?" He looks me in the eyes. "They left me a voicemail. Trish didn't mention anything when we met up later, so I'm guessing that Fang didn't call her." He shrugs. I start. A voicemail? Fang called him? Why not call me or Trish? He keeps looking away from me, which allows me to compose myself. I think for a long moment, carefully picking my words. I can't fuck this up. This is an extremely sensitive subject, and if I burn him with my social ineptitude, this bridge will be gone. "Have you…" He looks at me. I pause. He says nothing, so I continue. "Have you listened to it?" He shrugs. "I didn't have the guts for it. Heck, I considered deleting it." He pinches the bridge of his snout. He reaches into his pocket. "Fuck it, wanna listen to it now?" I freeze. My heart is screaming yes yes yes while my mind is shouting no no no. Following my head got me into this mess in the first place - avoiding confrontation and making retarded assumptions, not to mention feeding others bullshit I thought was right - so I nod. "Sure. Though, isn't it meant for you only?" "We're friends, aren't we?" He shrugs. "Fang won't mind." I stop and look at him. Friends. I can't help but smile a little. Friends. A sliver of fuzzy warmth spreads inside my chest. "Yeah, we are." I wait for him to fish out his phone and lay it on the table. He murmurs something and opens the voicemail app. There it is. Dated last monday. The worst fucking monday in my life, Reed's life, the lives of everyone at school. And many others. He stops with his finger hovering over it. He looks at me. He's hesitating. There's a question, a plea in his eyes. I give a slow, firm nod. He smiles weakly, then taps the screen. Sounds of quick footsteps and labored breathing. In the background, muffled tones of sirens and groans of the injured. Ruffling sounds, as if someone was stuffing something inside something. A distant sound of panicked crying, accompanied by sounds of frantic running. "-Stella." Fang mutters, her voice trembling slightly. She clears her throat. "Hey, Reed. If you're hearing this, I'm already dead. I've done it." We look at each other. She says it so casually. Fuck, what was going through your head, Fang? The sounds of the door and Fang's footsteps, echoing dully, coming from the phone grab our attention. She was climbing the stairs. "I've dealt with that bitch. That stupid whore got what she fucking deserved." She pauses. More ruffling sounds. "What I'm getting at is…" she pauses. "What I'm getting at is that I'm done. End of the line." The sirens are getting louder. She must be nearing the door to the roof. She stops, takes a couple deep breaths and continues talking. "There are a few things I want to tell you before I sign off." She chuckles grimly. "I know what Trish did to my guitar. Tell her that I forgive her. I don't know why she did it, but it doesn't matter. None of this matters. None of this ever mattered, Reed. " I turn pale. I put my hand to my mouth, tears starting to pool in the corners of my eyes. Reed looks at me, tilts his head and gives a murmur. A wordless question. "I told her this, Reed." I say, my hand moving from my mouth, up to my forehead. I squeeze it, anguish crushing the remains of anger from a couple minutes ago. He pauses the voicemail. I keep mumbling. "I told her this after the concert. She ran to the auditorium. She smashed her fucking guitar." I look at him. "She needed me, and I fed her bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit!" I shout, smacking the edge of the table. "Looks like me and Trish weren't the only ones who fucked up that night." Reed mutters, staring at me very hard. "You have no idea." He looks at me for a second, then un-pauses the voice message. Fang continues her climb. " As for you, my favorite carfehead, I hope you get off this stuff someday. You'll boil your brain with it. " Another grim chuckle. " Tell my dad that he's a dickhead and that it's all his fault. Oh, and one more thing: I did it with Anon last night. " I freeze. Reed freezes. We stare at each other in silence, while a voice from the past keeps talking. "Whatever the fuck you hear about it, know that I started it. Anon did not consent. And I knew what I was doing." She pauses, listening to the sirens blaring behind the door. "And if you believe my dad, Trish, or anyone saying otherwise… well, I'll fucking haunt you until you shit yourself from fear. And then haunt you some more." She chuckles. "That's all. Thanks for everything, Reed. And, Anon… " My eyes turn to the phone in a millisecond. "If you're listening, for what it's worth, I love you." The door creaks as she throws it open. "We'll meet again someday, Reed. I'll keep a cozy spot in hell for you. See ya around! " The blaring of sirens and the wind cut off. End of message. I grab the sides of my head. My hands curl up. I start rocking slowly, back and forth, staring at the phone so hard that it's a miracle it doesn't shatter under the force of my gaze. I feel Reed's eyes on me. He is waiting for me to explain myself I think. I showed mine, now you show yours. "We went back to my place…" I begin. It takes me about an hour to tell him what had occured. He stares at me the whole time, not moving, barely blinking. There is no accusation or anger in his face, and honestly, I would much rather have those to deal with than with the quiet, calm inquisitiveness it bears instead. It makes me feel like I am back at the police station. A little. Reed doesn't hate me. Or does he? "Why the fuck didn't you tell her earlier?" I understand immediately. Naomi's plan. "I- I don't know, I was meaning to but-" Reed punches the table, silencing me. "But what?" His voice is calm but his face is angry. "Fuck, dude!" He shakes his head, holding it with one hand. "You could have told her this literally any other time, but you chose that night? You fucking dumbass!" He leans away, baring his teeth. He's holding his head with both hands now. "That's what must've given her the final push." I can't even fall in love without HER interfering with it! I'm still. My hand sits over my mouth. When did it get there? You don't like me, you just wanted to change me to something I'm not, just to get Naomi off your back. I bite my finger as the events of prom night start resurfacing in my head. I can almost feel the kick. The kick I completely fucking deserved. You took me away from my friends! "Say something, you piece of shit!" You ruined our band! I just sit there, staring at him, while Fang's screams and sobbing echoes in my head, over and over, and over, louder and louder. My eyes are dewy again. I bite down harder and harder, until I pierce the skin. What have I done? What have I done?!? "Fucking unbelievable." Reed grabs his phone, and makes a move to rise. "And I'm supposed to be the shitty-" "Reed? I'm about to do something absolutely fucking terrible. Please, pick up." He freezes. Then looks at his phone. Another voicemail. He must've tapped on it by accident. Fang sounds like she's on the verge of tears. Reed sits back down and stares at the phone, wide-eyed while Fang from last Monday keeps talking. "I don't want to do it, but I'm- I'm so fucking angry Reed. I want her to pay for what she did to me, to you, to all of us, but-" she chokes back a sob. "Can I go over to your place? We can watch TV, talk, and play on pachystation. Idunno, anything you want." She laughs shakily and wetly. "Answer, Reed. Please." There are a few moments of ambient street noise before the message ends. Reed mechanically taps the screen. Tension in his body has moved entirely to his face. "PICK UP, YOU FUCKING JUNKIE!" Next message. "Some friend you are! I hope you overdose and rot in that shitty condo!" Next. "You and Trish are fucking made for each other!" Next. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be mad. Pick up, please…" Next. Next. Next. Next. All of them, either angry or extremely fucking sad. I stop counting after the tenth. "How many-" "Twenty six." Reed finally puts the phone down. "Fang called me…" he sighs. "They called me twenty six times within fifteen minutes." Some of the tension had left him, replaced by gloominess. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "If only I wasn't on that shit, I would have-" he cuts himself off. "Fuck, if you didn't get to her in time, this would be the last time I'd hear her voice-" He cuts himself off with a start. He stares at me for a second. Eyes wide, wild, pupils shrinking and dilating. Then, he covers his mouth with both his hands and lets out a low, long groan of frustration. "What the fuck am I doing?" He mumbles, so fast that it's almost incomprehensible. "You fucking went there. You went after her. You knew the risk and still-" he drapes his forearms over his head. One of his knees is jerking up and down, up and down. I don't say anything. Is he praising me? I don't deserve any praise. Fuck, I was such a dumbass. Reed is right. Why didn't I man up and tell Fang about Naomi's scheming earlier? Why did I have to get drunk to manage for it to come out? And why the fuck did I decide to get drunk, while she was trying to salvage the concert? Why didn't I put my foot down and help them search for that goddamn string? Some fucking support I was. Golden fucking standard. And still, she said that she loves me. Fucking hell. "Anon, look at me." I look him in the eyes. He's calm now. Not his old relaxed self, but neither is he fuming with anger like he was not too long ago. "I want you to be honest with me." He leans in. "And I mean, really, one hundred percent honest." I slowly nod and quickly compose myself. "Ask." "Did you have any bad intentions when you told Fang about Naomi's plans? Did you… "What the fuck-" "Don't. Interrupt. Me." He shakes his fist in my face. "You don't want me to get angry. Fucking listen. Did you have any motive in saying that, at such a time, when Fang was so vulnerable?" I am stupefied. Only for a moment, but still, I'm dumbstruck by this inquiry. Ulterior motives? Is he implying that I told her about Naomi because I wanted to take advantage of her? "I asked you a fucking question." Reed leans in closer, his snout inches from my face. He growls, half-baring his teeth. "I'm waiting for an answer." "I did not have any bad intentions, Reed. I was drunk. It was a slip of the tongue." I swallow, seeing his features harden. "I swear, I swear on my life, that I did not have any shady business in mind when I told Fang about what Naomi was doing." He snorts bitterly and leans away. He pats the table. "On your life, huh?" He narrows his eyes. "I will hold you up to that oath." He shakes his fist at me again. "If I hear otherwise from Fang, when I speak with them again, I will put you in the ground." I go pale. Then nod. He growls, snarls and leans forward with his chops on full display. "I will do it. Fang suffered enough. Unlike Trish, I will not drop them the moment trouble starts." Events at the prom tell me otherwise, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. There's something in this new Reed that scares me. This is the first time I've seen him so cold and vicious. "I understand." "I hope you do. I really hope you do." He sits up straight. "What were you up to for the past week? Moping around at your place?" "No." I shake my head. "I was in hospital for a few days, then…" I rub my cheek. "Afterwards, Fang's dad sunk his claws into me, so to speak." I give a shaky, unsure chuckle. He narrows his eyes. I piqued his curiosity. "He's been interrogating me for the past two days." I say after taking a moment to compose myself. "Today, he…" I gag. She was shot in the head. Through the eye. Bang! Naomi falls. Bang! Bang! Bang! "He what?" Reed frowns. "What did that copper do to you?" I gag again, bile rising up my throat. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Oh god, oh god, oh god- I turn away from him and heave, nausea flooding my system like a tidal wave. I hear him stirr. Before he can get to me though, I throw up. What little food I had this morning ends up in the sand. I heave again. Another torsion. Bile pours from my mouth. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! "Anon!" I am trembling, my throat is burning. My mouth is burning. I am keeled over, staring at the puddle I've made. "He told me how Naomi died." I mumble out. "Motherfucker spared no details." I wipe my mouth with the cuff of my shirt and sit, with him helping me up. I can feel him stiffen. He lets go of me. I sit still, breathing slowly and deeply, trying my best to fight off the nausea, crashing through me like sea waves. I can hear his footsteps, he's walking back and forth. As he picks up the pace, so does his growl pick up the volume. Soon, he's growling like a wildcat, hissing, seething with anger. "Here I am, tearing into you while you have a fucking mental breakdown, not to mention what that motherf- RRAGH! " He kicks the bench. I jump. The wood crackles under the force of impact. Those benches aren't flimsy, quite the opposite. He kicks it again. The leg snaps like a twig. From where I'm sitting, I can see the seat sagging to one side. How fucking strong is he? "Calm down, Reed-" "Calm down?!" He screams. "You save his daughter's life, he repays you like this and I'm supposed to be calm about it?!" He stares at me with wild eyes. "You should be mad! Absolutely fucking mental! Why are you so calm?!" I look down at the dent in the table. Huh. It's deeper than it looked at first. "I'm… I'm tired, Reed." I look at him. "I just want to go back to my place and lie down. The trial starts shortly, Fang's old man told me that today. I'll just hold on until then." I swallow. "Better for him to tear me a new one than either you or Trish." He pauses. "For as much of a bitch she is, and for how much her meddling resulted in this mess," I wipe my mouth again. "I do not want her to become Ripley's target." He snorts. "Stop playing savior, dude. We're not children." I give a shaky laugh. "Still, it would suck to be stuck in the same room with the ol' Rip." I shiver. "Believe me, I speak from experience." Then a thought pops into my head. "By the way, they got your statements, yeah?" He nods, though he looks unsure as to where I'm going with this. "They know Fang called you. Did they take your phone? Ripley would have known about the voicemails, yeah?" Reed shakes his head. "He said that he got a much more important lead." He stares at me intently. "I'm looking at it now, I think." He smirks grimly. "Why the hell didn't you call me earlier, dude?" He turns serious. "We could have hung out or something. Help you get the edge off." I chuckle, shrugging. "I don't do drugs, Reed." I smirk back at him. "Dino drugs at least." He throws his hands up. "I don't mean drugs, dude! I mean, like, chill out and stuff. Without drugs." He sighs. "Call me tomorrow." "I'll be at the station." He winces. "After that then. We'll hang out at my place." He pats my shoulder and helps me up. "Come on, I'll get you back to your little cave." I try to shake his hand off my shoulder, but he holds as firm as stone. Damn dino stenght. I'll be as strong as you one day, Reed, just you wait. "I can fuckin' go there by myself." "Yeah and get jumped by a crackhead in some back alley?" He shakes his head. "No way I'm letting you into Skin Row alone, not fucked up like this. Come on." I start. How the hell does he know where I live? "Rosa texted me." He pats me on the back. "Come on." Me and my big fucking mouth. We start a slow walk towards the city. I swallow, grimacing as my throat contracts. I clear my throat and try to come up with something to keep up the conversation. "Hey, Reed?" "Yeah?" I reach into my pocket and, from my wallet, produce the prescription Doc Jones gave me. I show it to Reed. He eyes it absent-mindedly. "Do you know what this is? If it isn't some dino medicine?" I grimace again. "Let me see…" he takes the slip from me. "Dude, that's baby stuff." He glances at me. "Uhh, for a dino." He quickly adds, seeing me glare. "It's a mule for a skinnie." He gives it back. He lets go of my shoulder. I roll it a few times, murmuring to myself. Reed stretches himself behind me with a soft grunt. "Doc Jones, huh?" He snorts. "He should've given you something softer." I don't even want to ask how he knows so much about medicine. "Good." I stuff the prescription into my pocket. "I need something strong to forget about…" I pause, swallowing nausea down. "You know." He nods. "Can't argue with that. Just don't take more than he put here. It's very easy for a skinnie to overdose on this." We leave the beach and head for the bus stop. On our way, we swing by a drugstore where I get the pills. I read the label as we leave. "Ativan. Hm." "Just remember, don't take more than doc put on the slip." Reed reminds me as I stuff the bottle into my pocket. "Yeah, yeah." Reed grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. He looks me in the eyes. His snout is really close to my face. So close in fact, that I need to lean away a bit to avoid having my eye poked out by it. "I mean it, dude." He says, staring at me hard. "If you take too much, this will kill you." He stabs my chest with his finger. Ow. That hurt. Literally. Damn raptor claws. What's his problem? "Okay, okay, I get it, fuck." I rub my poor rib. "Are you scared that I'll off myself or what?" He frowns. "You're my friend, dude." He shakes me gently. Well, gently for a dino. My brain rattles inside my skull from sheer force of the shake. "You can be a total dumbfuck sometimes though. Be careful, okay?" No need to remind me of my ability to fuck up. Had plenty of opportunities to reminisce about it over the past week. I give a few slow nods. "He should have prescribed you aminophylline too." Reed murmurs, then continues out loud. "So you have a blocker in case you overdose." He pats my back. "You're gonna have to swing by the hospital tomorrow." My curiosity gets the best of me. It's been gnawing at me for the past half hour. "How the hell do you know so much about this stuff?" A look of sadness, mixed with great tension passes over his face. It lasts only a moment, but it's enough to tell me that I shouldn't have asked that. He doesn't answer. Instead, he turns and nods at the bus stop at the end of the street. I follow him, watching him slouch slightly, with his head down and hands in his pockets. I really need to learn to bite my fucking tongue. "Hey, Reed?" I speak up. It's unbearable, walking in this tense silence. "Yeah?" His voice does not betray his sour mood. "Do you know Doc Jones?" He looks over his shoulder and nods. "He's been my family doctor way back, back when I was a kid. Cool guy. Good to see that he moved up in the world." He smirks to himself. Strike the iron while it's hot. "You know, he dunked hard on Fang's old man when I was at the hospital." His smirk widens. There's that spark of relaxation, twinkling weakly in his eye. "Huh, really?" He chuckles. "He never struck me as a tough guy. You have to tell me." "Alright, so, I was waiting for my results…" I relay to him what occured between Doc Motherfucking Jones and The Executioner . I spare no details and even slightly exaggerate the events. He needs a laugh. Guy looks almost as spent as me. What was he up to for the past week? "Huh!" He chuckles, shaking his head after I finish my meticulously crafted story. "Ol' Doc sure knows how to put people down, huh?" He laughs softly, covering his mouth with his hand. "Those who deserve it, anyway." I nod, satisfied with the effect my story had. He's much less tense now, hell, he's even smiling a little. It's not much, but it beats seeing him sad and gloomy by a couple hundred miles at least. We get to the stop. He plops down onto the bench, sprawling out like a lazy lizard, while I check the schedule. The next bus to Skin Row is in twenty minutes. Perfect. "Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask." I sit next to him. "Yeah?" He looks at me. "Where did you get Rosa's number?" He shrugs. Some of his good humor is gone, replaced partially by thoughtfulness. "I went to visit them at the hospital yesterday." He stares at the buildings on the opposite side of the street, not batting an eye on me. I sit in silence, hunched over, staring at my shoes. There is time to speak, and time to listen. "Fuck, Stella is a mess." Reed grips his knee. "I feel bad for having laughed at her so much before it all, you know?" I look up at him. He's shaking his head and squeezing his nape with a very thoughtful expression. "She went up to Fang and asked them to stop. And it worked somehow. She almost got herself shot." He looks at me. "Real brave, huh?" "Or real stupid." I grab my nose, shaking my head slowly. "Rosa thinks so, and I agree." "A bit of both." Reed snickers. "Bravery and stupidity…" "...often go hand in hand." I finish for him. We stare at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into a quiet laugh. It feels nice, laughing about such stupid bullshit, pretending - even if only for a moment - that nothing bad had happened. "You know…" Reed slumps over slightly, putting his foot on the shitty plastic wall of the bus stop shelter. "I hadn't taken any carfe since last Monday. Since the call." He gives me a long, tense look. I start, sitting straight up. I stare back at him, meeting his calm, but strained gaze with mine, tense and shocked. He has been on something ever since I saw him the first time. Carfe, MJ, who the hell knows what else. He's always been half aware of what was going on around him, and straight up blacked out at seemingly random. "It's been…" he looks down, gluing his eyes to the tips of his shoes. "It's been fucking hard, man. I had a stash, but I dumped it all into the sink. I just kept…" he pauses, narrowing his eyes. I wait for him to continue. "I kept hearing your words. Your friend is making the worst mistake of her life and you're cooking your brain with that shit. " He snarls softly."I was so pissed off at myself. You have no idea. The withdrawal is a bitch and a half." He steals a short glance at me before turning his eyes back to his boots. I run my hand across the top of my head, myself staring at the plastic blue ceiling above. The moment he speaks up again though, he has my full attention. "But I need to hold on, you know?" Smile suddenly returns to his face. "Fang needs us, they need us both, and I can't help them while being fucked up on drugs." He glares at me. I return his look, though mine is much softer than his. I want to run, go into the army. Leave Fang to deal with the aftermath. How should I tell him this? Should I tell him at all? Fuck it, honesty is the best policy. "Reed, I'm going to enlist." He goes rigid. His pupils shrink. I expect him to go absolutely ballistic like he did on the beach, but no. He's just surprised. "Why?" He finally asks. "Are you going to start running from everything again?" There is not a single note of accusation in his voice, and yet… This question makes me feel like a piece of garbage. "I'm not running, Reed. I just-" I shake my head. "You know, yes. I am running. I'm fucking terrified of Ripley. What if Fang got pregnant?" His eyes go as wide as teacups. He hadn't considered that possibility. "And what, you're just gonna bail, leave the kid to fend for themselves?" He clenches his fist. "Wouldn't you run to the hills if someone like Ripely was breathing down your neck, Reed?" He looks away. He's still tense, but less agitated than moments prior. He says nothing. "Think for a minute." I continue. "He's already blaming me for everything that happened. He fucking despises me." I swallow. "If Fang's pregnant, I'm a dead man. But I have a plan. I will not abandon my kid, if there will be a kid." The look on his face shifts from anger to curiosity. He arches his eyebrow and nods with his hand at me to continue. I start enumerating, bending one finger after the other as I speak. "I will open a bank account. I will dump my army wages into it. I'll give the details to whoever has custody over the kid." I pause to think. "I may never see them, but I will not be a deadbeat." He sits there, considering. The bus arrives and we get on. Reed's silent for the whole ride. He sits next to me with hands in his pockets and the back of his head pressed against the headrest. He stares at the ceiling the whole time, barely moving, or blinking. The look of deep contemplation doesn't leave his face until we get off at the edge of the district. "Interesting." He says as we delve into the worst part of Volcaldera. "What if Ripley gets custody over your kid?" "I'll give the details to Rosa and have her give them to him." I rub my jaw. "I hope she won't refuse." We walk in silence for a time. I give Reed a brief glance every now and then. He's waist deep in contemplation again. He says nothing, his hands in his pockets, his steps stiff and mechanical. We pass a couple city blocks before he opens his mouth. "Here's hoping." He clicks his tongue. "But, we won't know until a few months from now." He glances at me. "When are you going to go?" I rub the back of my head. "As soon as I'm no longer needed for the trial." I pause. "It's starting in a month or two, at least that's what Fang's dad told me." He rubs his chin. "So you're dropping out?" I nod. We walk in silence for some more time. Neither of us wants to talk. It's better that way. Gives me time to pick my words. And I pick them very fucking carefully. The street in front of my place is empty. Not a journo in sight. There is a cop standing at the street corners though, like the constables of yore. "I want to leave this goddamn city behind." I open the front door and start climbing the stairway. He follows me. "Excluding the time I spent with Fang, you guys, and that old fart Moe, it was either a hail of shit or a rain of piss. Sometimes both." We stop before the door to my apartment. As I look for the keys, my phone starts buzzing. I exchange looks with Reed, then pull the phone out. Maybe it's Rosa? What would she want now? "Unknown number…" I look at him again, "Should I pick up?" "Your call." He shrugs. "Very funny." I grumble. The phone keeps buzzing. What's odd is that it sounds almost desperate. Impatient. Who the hell is calling me anyway? Not my folks. I have both their numbers saved. Not that I got much use out of those anyway. A whole week had passed. I've read an interview with them on the bus to the beach. And still, not a call nor a single fucking text. I may as well have died on that goddamn monday. Fuck it. "Hello?" "Anon, hey…" I freeze. Within a millisecond, my body becomes rigid, stiff, solid like a block of metal. My heart starts pounding, beating a steady, fast, strong rhythm, while a wave of hotness starts pouring over me, traveling from my ears, down my neck. I am deep red within another millisecond. Reed stops and stares at me, dumbstruck by my sudden fit, but I don't fucking care. "F-fang?" I manage to stammer out. "Where…" I try to swallow, but my throat is so clenched that I only manage a wet, gross sound with my mouth. She's in prison, you fucking idiot. Change the question. "Are you okay?" Reed freezes the moment he hears me say her name. He brings his hand up to his mouth, his eyes almost wide enough to fill his whole face. He stares at me expectantly, almost pleadingly. He wants to talk to her. I feel you, man, I really do, but she called me, not you. Don't be so fucking selfish. Fuck, you're right, conscience. I beckon at Reed to come over. I put Fang on the speaker as the two of us huddle around the shitty smartphone as I try - and fail a couple of times - to shove the key in with a trembling hand. I finally manage it, after a couple of tries. We pile inside. I lock the door as Fang speaks. "I'm… fuck, I'm not fine, that's for sure." She says, her voice trembling slightly. "I fucking killed someone. She fucking deserved it, I think…" she chokes back a soft sob. Fuck. FUCK. How much I want to hug her, tell her that everything will be fine, console her somehow, in any way. I stare at the phone in dumb silence, unable to say anything, unable to move, unable to think . Reed comes to my rescue. "Hey, Fang." He says. His voice's neutral, devoid of his old easy-going laid-back attitude. "Reed?! Oh my god, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice." She sniffles. "I- I just wanted to talk to Anon, make sure he's fine, but hearing you is a welcome surprise." She gives a weak, shaky laugh. How the hell is she calling a cell through a landline? Ah, who fucking cares, she called me. Me . After all that happened, after all I did, she didn't call Reed, she didn't call Trish. She called me . "Fang, sweet tooth-" I cut myself off, not wanting to have her hear my voice faltering. "Fang, how are they treating you?" She sniffles again upon hearing her pet name. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. If I could only reach out to you through this damn phone- "It's whatever." She says dismissively, her voice suddenly hardening. "Reed, are you sober?" "Like a priest on Sunday." He says with great seriousness. "So you did listen to that stupid voicemail?" She laughs again. "I listened to it with Anon. He told me what happened after the prom." She's silent for a moment. A very long moment. The silence lasts for so long that I'm starting to think she may have hung up, but then, as if to contradict my fears, she bursts out: "It's all in the past now. Forget about it, got it?" She sounds angry. Really pissed off. "Forget about that stupid concert, our fucking, shitty little band, fuck, forget about Trish if you want. It doesn't matter. None of this highschool bullshit ever mattered." "You know it's not true, Fang." Reed replies. He's calm. Exceedingly calm. How can he be so serene right now? "Me and Anon had a talk. He made me a vow and now I'm gonna test it." He glares at me. "What fucking vow?" She demands. "What the fuck did you make him do?" Reed takes the phone from me. He keeps glaring at me for a long, tense moment before turning to the device. "Did Anon take advantage of you the night before-" "WHAT?!" she screams. "NO, NO, FUCK NO!" she's really pissed off now. "What you want to know if I came to him, bawling my eyes out and if he raped me?" Reed recoils at that word. I go pale, my heart somehow accelerating. It's beating so hard now that my whole body twitches softly with each thump. Badumbadumbadumbadumbadum- "Here's a newsflash for you, drughead: I took advantage of him. Before he knew what was happening, I was on top of him, RIDING. HIS. DICK! " She's breathing quickly, teetering on the thin line between hysteria and blind rage. I take the phone from Reed. "Fang, calm down." I ask her, in a surprisingly composed tone of voice. "They'll take you away if you won't stop freaking out like that." She listens. She calms down, or at least, stops screaming. What comes next makes me wish that she was still shredding her vocal cords in a tantrum. "I'm sorry, Non." She sobs softly. "I fucked up, I fucked up real bad." She sobs again. "I think I killed more people than just Naomi. The guards keep saying things…" she breaks down into tears. "How bad is it?" Ripley, cradling Naser's lifeless body, begging for forgiveness. Blood, bullet holes, body bags. I can't tell her this. At least, not the whole of it. "It's bad. It's really fucking bad, Fang." She breaks down completely. She starts sobbing, mumbling incomprehensibly, choking on her own breath. I feel Reed's penalizing stare, burning into my back, but I ignore him. "Is Naser okay?" I freeze. No, no, don't freak out now! Keep it together. Hang in there, baby! "I don't know. Your dad didn't tell me anything." Reed's glare burns less. "You didn't see him?" "No." My voice trembles slightly. She's silent for a moment. "Stop. Fucking. Lying!" She's angry again. "Tell me!" A partial lie then. "He was alive when I saw him the last time. Hurt, but alive." Well, that's true. Reed's glare's intensity decreases further. "And then?" "And then I didn't fucking see him! Cops were leading me out of school Fang, I couldn't go and look for him." She's quiet for a long moment. Then she starts crying again. Fuck me. Fuck me sideways and upside down. I'm gonna pass out. My vision's blurry already. Are those tears or an impending fit? My head is swimming. I don't know. I feel like crying myself, but I grip my nerves with an iron hand. Fang needs me. I can't start bawling like a child. "I hope he's alive." She mumbles out. "I- I want to apologize for hurting him again…" she takes a deep, shaky, wet breath. "Fuck, fuck!…" She hangs up. I hold the phone in my hand, staring at the blank screen. I should be crying too. I really should. I should be weeping, like I did at the hospital, but I just don't feel it. My eyes aren't dewy. My chest isn't tight, neither is my throat. Hell, my mouth's as dry as pepper. I look at Reed. He looks even more gloomy and sad than at his worst on the beach. He's slouching. His tail lays limp on the floor. He stuffed his hands so deep into his pockets, that there are fresh tears on his jeans. He's staring at the floor hard enough to punch a hole through. Who should be consoling whom here? Should I - a fuck up of a boyfriend be consoling him - a failure of a friend? Or the other way around? God fucking dammit. "I'm gonna go." Reed speaks up. "Remember, be careful with those pills." I say nothing while he walks towards the door. It clicking shut plucks me out of my stupefied state. I look at the door, surprised to see it unlocked, then I realize that Reed had just gone out. "Fuck me…" I sit on the bed, still clutching the phone. "Will this damn day ever end?!" I throw the phone onto the desk. It bounces and lands inside the enclosure. Ray-mba starts bouncing off it. Good. Fucking stay there. I get up and lock the door. Then I turn around and lie down onto the bed. I turn on my back and take a moment to stare at the ceiling before yanking the bottle of meds out of my pocket. Half a pill, twice a day. Very fucking well. I take the bottle out and open it. I shake a single pill out onto my hand. Huh. An octagon. Interesting. Two indents criss-crossing. Makes it easy to portion out the doses I guess. I break the pill in half and swallow. I put the other half on the desk, next to the bottle. And now we wait. After I don't know how long, I start to feel the effects. The hurricane, raging inside my head since today's interrogation, starts to subside. I start to feel… relaxed. It feels nice. Hadn't had that luxury since last Monday. I close my eyes, ready to fall asleep. BWWWMMM My eyes shoot wide open. Who the hell is calling me? Can you fuck off? I'm trying to sleep here. BWWWMMM Really, again? This is the second time someone interrupts me as I'm trying to give myself into the sweet embrace of Morpheus. Leave me alone, whoever's calling. Let me dream of Fang, and how our lives could have gone if I wasn't a total fuck up. BWWWMMM I will fucking murder you if you don't stop, whoever you are. Leave me the fuck alone. I want to be alone in my little cave. Leave a voicemail. I'll call you later. Fuck off. BWWWMMM "Oh for fuck's sake…" I slowly rise and reach for the phone. Incoming call Rosa Of course it's Mother Theresa herself calling me. What the hell does she want? I blush. What the fuck is wrong with you? She's worried about you, you ungrateful dickhead. The least you could do is answering the fucking phone. But should I? BWWWMMM In my current state, I don't think I'd be much of a conversationalist. I'll probably make her worry even more. I get that I'm her friend, but the girl's gonna worry herself sick over me. BWWWMMM Fuck, fine. "Hey, Rosa." Huh. I'm calm. This stuff really works. "Hey, chico ." She sounds relieved. Thank fuck for that. "Reed called me." Never-fucking-mind. I chuckle, rubbing the back of my head. She breathes in. I tense up in expectation of an onslaught of Spanish-English, but it doesn't come. She was just taking a breather, not opening a can of verbal whoop-ass. Calm… wait, I'm already calm. Huh. Those pills really are something else. "He told me what you told him." Here it comes. Here comes the pain train. Intercept, intercept! "If you'll decide to start hating me and cut all contact with me, I-" "¡Tonterías! ¡Deja de decir tonterías! ¡Niño estúpido!" She cuts in, words pouring out of her like water through a broken dam. "This was an awful thing you've done, but you can still make amends-" It's my turn to cut her off. "What fucking amends, Rosa?" I should be angry but I'm not. Thank you medical science. "Fang is in prison. I made her-" "You didn't make her nothing!" She interrupts me. "Reed told me about what happened before they played at the prom." I scoff. She huffs. "Trish fucking up does not decrease how much I fucked up." I pinch the bridge of my nose, right at the base. "You saw the aftermath. Can you imagine what Fang was going through? And then I crushed her with this fixing bullshit." Rosa says nothing for a short moment. "Why are you so calm?" The accusation in her voice… Does she think that I don't give a shit about any of this anymore? Maybe she thinks that I gave up? Can't tell her what happened today. Don't add to the pile. "Doc Jones prescribed me some medicine. For the nerves." I swallow. There's a hint of bitterness in my mouth, left by the pill. "It really works." I sigh tiredly. "Rosa, can we, like, talk tomorrow? I'll come by to the hospital, I have something to ask the ol' doc. You gonna be there?" "Fine." She sounds very annoyed, and very worried. The former makes me cringe, the latter makes me smile. A little bit. "You better show up, or I'll show up at your house… and I'll be angry." She pauses for effect. "And you do not want to make me angry." I shiver, a tinge of fear punching through the numbing veil draped around me by the medicine. Angry? She was pissed when I fell into her stupid flowers. And she almost murdered that journo. "I think I already know what to expect." "No tie-nes ni i-dea, CHI-CO." She says accentuating every syllable. A pink slipper smashing into my face comes to mind. I shiver again. She's strong enough to make even a piece of shitty foam a deadly weapon. Better not test her. "Don't you worry, I'll be there." I smirk. "If you bring some of the same stuff as the last time." She snorts, but sounds much more relaxed. Slipper avoided, thank fucking god. "We have a deal then! Stella will be happy to see you." She sighs. "Well, bye, An-on." "Bye, Rosa." She hangs up. I put the phone on my desk and start staring at the ceiling, checking off what's to come tomorrow. More interrogations. I really hope Ripley gets a grip on himself. I don't think I could handle another autopsy report. I'd go apeshit. Grab Glenn's laptop and smack ol' Rip over the head with it. That's what he wants. Dickhead. Meetup with Reed. He really wants to hang out with me, despite my fuck-ups. Well, he ain't free from those himself, so I guess we can cry in each other's arms or some gay shit like that. Fuck, that's some mental image. And finally, Rosa. Food will be good. The accompanying conversation, I don't think so. Here's hoping I can handle it. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there.