Bullet

Sunlight pounded Anette’s eyelids and her head responded with an almost thundering. She groaned and shielded her eyes with her hand. All around her was warm, and something pressed against her back that made her almost hot. And then it moved.

Anette’s eyes snapped open and the first thing she saw was lacey blue underwear and a matching bra on the floor. Her underwear and bra. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her and a hand clenched over her stomach, but it wasn’t her own. She jumped and the heat against her back let up. She turned back slowly and was met with a still-sleeping Mikey, his brown hair messy and glasses smeared. Carefully, she untangled herself from his arms and the sheets and stepped onto the floor, swiping up her undergarments and creeping into Mikey’s bathroom.

Shakily, she locked the door, stripped, and then redressed fully. She splashed water on her face and closed her eyes, trying to get her headache to stop pounding. Then she started doing a mental check-over.

Head? In pain. Probably from the hangover.

Neck? She checked in the mirror. Hickied.

Arms and legs? No bruises.

Stomach? Queasy, and there was a weird taste in her mouth.

So had she and Mikey… fucked? She didn’t feel sore, but then again, she had been totally wasted. She tried to remember what had happened last night. Gerard had come on to her… they were making out in the kitchen. She remembered that at least. And then Mikey had come in… and then nothing. She didn’t remember anything between Mikey making Gerard back off and waking up in bed with him.

Without underwear on.

So they must have had sex. And now… she wanted to leave. Before Mikey woke up. She crept out of the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen. She was planning on simply walking home, but Gerard was sitting in the dining room.

“Morning, Annie,” he said, grinning wryly at her.

“Hi, Gerard.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“My head hurts, and I feel a bit sick.”

“Did you throw up?”

“I don’t think so.”

He nodded, still grinning. “Good, good. Where’s Mikey?”

“In his room, still asleep.”

“Ah. I suppose you want to go home?”

“Um, yes, that was my plan,” she said softly.

“I’ll drive you,” he said, standing up. His eyes lingered over her a little too long.

“You sure you can?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well—”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

‘But I don’t trust you,’ she thought. But she nodded and followed Gerard to the front door all the same. On with their shoes, Gerard grabbed his keys, and then they were on their way. He didn’t ask her any more questions, and for that she was thankful.

He stopped the car three blocks from Anette's house. She frowned. "Gerard, this isn't my house," she said hesitantly as he pulled off his seatbelt.

"I know," he said, reaching over and grabbing her arm roughly.

"Gerard, let-"

He cut her off by kissing her sloppily, their noses hitting and Anette fighting to break away from him. She fumbled with her seatbelt as he grabbed her face and continued to kiss her, trying to get his tongue in her mouth. She dug her nails into his wrist and pushed him off. "What the hell, Gerard?!" she yelled, throwing the car door open and swinging herself out. The look on his face was perfectly murderous as he got out and slammed his own door.

"Don't you like me, Annie?" he asked in a falsely sweet voice, chasing her around the car and trapping her against it by her upper arms. "You like Mikey well enough."

"Gerard, what's wrong with you?" Anette nearly screamed, though she had a hunch of what was wrong already.

"You were kissing me last night. How about you finish what you started?"

"I was wasted!" Anette yelled in his face, and he tried to kiss her again, but she bit his lip.

He slammed her against his car, making her yelp in pain. "You fucked my brother, why won't you fuck me?!"

"I didn't fuck anyone!" She kicked him in the knee, making his grip go slack enough that she could wrench herself out of his grasp and started running home.

"Anette, come back!" he called, but she kept running. "I'm sorry!"

-

Anette spent her final days of high school in an almost hysterical jitter. She had spent the past week avoiding Mikey, hiding in Chase's shadow. She couldn't look at him - she couldn't face the shame. But she hadn't told Chase either, mostly for Mikey's sake. She had a suspicion that Chase would jump for any opportunity to give Mikey a beating.

In history class, just two class periods away from total freedom, Mikey dropped a note on her desk before crossing and sitting by himself in the back. Anette carefully unfolded it and, with some difficulty, read: "Annie, we need to talk. Meet me at the shed behind the school after class. -Mikey." She glanced up at him and he nodded. She returned the nod after some thought.

"Alright, I know it's Senior's last day, so calm down. Juniors, if you will kindly go down to the library to work on your projects so the Seniors can have quiet for their final..."

-

"I didn't think you'd come."

Anette avoided Mikey's eyes as she leaned against the tin shed next to him. "Why wouldn't I have?"

"You've been avoiding me since the party," he said pointedly.

Anette bit her lip. "I've just been busy-"

"Oh, don't give me that," he sighed. "You refused to sit by me in class even." He pushed his glasses up his nose and adjusted the beanie on his head. "All things considered, I actually thought you'd want to talk about it-"

"What's there to talk about?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Mikey looked at her, confused. "What, you don't remember?"

"Mikey, the only things I remember are Gerard trying to eat my face and waking up in bed with you," she half-snapped.

"So, you don't remember... anything we did? Anything we [i[said?" he asked, crestfallen.

"Mikey, I told you-" But she stopped, her eyes wide and fixed on a point behind Mikey. He frowned and spun around to see what had drawn her attention.

Gerard was stumbling towards them, clothes and hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and a gun in his hand. Instinctively, Mikey moved in front of Anette - a drunk Gerard was an upset one, and an upset one meant a dangerous one.

"It's all your fault, Mikey!" he slurred, trying to point the gun at his little brother. "Your fault!"

"What did I do, Gee?" Mikey asked, trying not to show fear.

"You took her from me!" he yelled, tears sliding down his pale face. "She doesn't love me because of you!"

"Who?" Mikey asked, watching the gun carefully. It wavered from his head to his chest to the shed to his knees to Gerard's foot to the school and everywhere in between.

"Anette!" Gerard screamed, his face contorted with fury, tears falling down his face. "I hate you, Mikey!"

As he tried to steady his shaking hand, Anette slipped around Mikey and stood between the two brothers.

"Annie, no!" Mikey snarled, grabbing her arms and trying to wrestle her back behind him, but she stood her ground.

"Mikey, let go of me," she said firmly, but her trembling hands betrayed her fear.

Gerard continued to cry, gripping the gun with both hands. "Anette, move, I don't want to kill you, too."

"Gee, please put the gun down," she said as calmly as possible. "You don't want to hurt me or Mikey."

"But he won't let you love me!" Gerard sobbed. "I'm gonna fucking kill him!" He took the safety off the gun.

"No, you're not. You love Mikey, he's your little brother."

"He stole you!"

"I'm not going to let you hurt him." Now Anette was crying too, slowly and silently. She stepped closer to Gerard so that the muzzle of the gun was pressing into her sternum, right over her heart. Mikey was too dumbstruck to do anything but loosely continue to hold her arm. "Gerard, if you really love me, you'll put the gun down. Put it down, and I promise I'll do anything and everything I can to help you. You're not yourself right now."

He started to half-lower it, and she stepped even closer. Mikey's hand fell to her wrist and he gripped it tight now. "Please," she whispered desperately. Gerard let the gun drop to his side, and Anette stepped forward again and kissed him.

Three noises then happened so close together that they might as well have all happened at once. The gun fired; Anette screamed; Mikey yelled, "Annie!" Gerard and Anette broke apart and Anette collapsed back into Mikey, who caught her as Gerard stared with an open mouth at the hole in Anette's leg and the blood seeping out of it, staining her white tights. Gerard backed away and then ran as fast as he could while Mikey laid Anette down.

“FuckAnniefuckfuckfuck,” he spewed.

“Mikey… help…” she groaned, her eyes only half-open.

“Help!” Mikey yelled. “HELP!” But there was no one around. “Okay, Annie, I’m gonna pick you up.”

“Ok—ay,” she said groggily, the last of her word turning into a moan. “Mikey, it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” he said, digging his car keys out before picking her up and jogging up the hill and to the school. “But just hold on, I’m gonna drive you to the hospital, ‘kay?”

“Mmhmm.”

They were in the parking lot now, leaving a trail of blood droplets, and Anette was getting heavier by the second. “Annie, open your eyes,” Mikey said anxiously as her head lolled to the side. “Stay with me.”

“I’m here.”

“What?”

“I’m here,” she repeated a little louder, her lips hardly moving. Mikey unlocked his car and jimmied the door open and set her in the passenger seat. He laid it down as she groaned in pain. “Mikey, my foot’s numb.”

“Shit,” he swore under his breath. “Okay. Annie, don’t freak, I’m gonna take your tights off so I can wrap the wound.”

“Alright,” she replied quietly, her face screwed up in pain. Mikey’s face flushed as his hands slid up her dress and found her tights and he pulled them off, trying not to pull her underwear off at the same time. He had to pull a little to get the fabric to un-stick from around the bullet hole, and she winced, but then they were off and blood was running freely down her leg and onto the car’s floor.

The wound made Mikey sick to his stomach. It was a little to the left of her shin, deep, and crimson. Mikey could see the metallic sheen of the bullet and the torn skin and muscle and the blood. There was so much of it.

“Okay, this’ll hurt, but it’ll be alright later,” Mikey promised, wrapping her tights around the wound and tying it firmly. She gasped out in pain, but was still only semi-conscience. As soon as he made sure she wasn’t going anywhere, he shut her door and jumped into the driver’s seat, jamming in the keys and turning. But the car wouldn’t start.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck not now!” Mikey yelled, hitting the dash with one hand and turning the key over and over. “Come on! I did nothing to deserve this!”

“Wha’s wrong?” Anette asked, her eyes closed.

“The fucking car won’t—YES!” he screamed in triumph as it started. “Yesyesyes!” He put it in gear and gunned it to the street as fast as he could. He shimmied Anette’s hand on top of his on the shift stick. “Stay awake, Annie. Grip my hand.”

“M’kay.” And she did, though very lightly.

Mikey took the quickest way he knew through town to the hospital, speeding as much as he dared. He talked to Anette the whole time, telling her it would be okay and asking if it was getting better and letting her know how close they were. When they pulled in, he didn’t even bother to turn off the car in the pullout before he was getting her out and carrying her into the lobby of the emergency room.

“Help!” he yelled, startling the few people in the lobby, but the secretary took action.

“Get a gurney and a nurse!” she yelled, and seconds later they appeared. Mikey set Anette down on the gurney. She was almost passed out.

“What happened?” the nurse asked urgently.

“Shot in the leg,” Mikey gasped out. “Behind the school just now.”

“Sir, I need you to let go. We’re going to take her into surgery.”

Mikey hadn’t even noticed that he was gripping her hand tightly. He reluctantly let go, and the nurse wheeled her off into another place in the hospital.

“Sir, can you fill out some information for me?” The secretary had tapped him on the shoulder and held out a clipboard and pen to him.

“Uh, yeah, sure, can I move my car first?” he asked, and didn’t wait for a response before going to do so. When he came back, the secretary had the clipboard on the top of her counter, ready for him. “Can I use your phone, too? I need to call my mom.”

“Of course,” the secretary said, picking up her phone and setting it on the counter so he could reach it. He dialed his number, and it wasn’t that long before his mom picked up.

“Hey Mom, I’m—”

“Michael James Way, you have ten seconds to tell me why neither you nor your brother are at home—”

“Mom, I’m at the hospital with Anette. She got shot.”

She was silent for a moment. “Shot?” she repeated, shocked.

“Yeah, um… we got… mugged,” he lied. “After school.”

“Oh God. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but she’s going to surgery right now.”

“Mikey, I’m coming down.”

“But Mom, I have the car.”

“I’ll walk if I have to,” she snapped. “Sorry. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He hung up, and then Mikey looked down at the paperwork. “You need her info?”

“And yours, too,” the secretary replied, taking her phone back.

“Alright. And thanks.”

His info was easy—really straight-forward. As for “Incident,” he put, “Bullet wound – mugging.” But he got stuck on Anette’s page. It took him a few moments to remember her middle name – Renee – but he did okay until the insurance information, and then he needed to do the thing he dreaded—call Anette’s mom.

“Can I borrow the phone again? I need to call her mom.”

“Sure thing.” She looked at a computer screen as she passed Mikey the phone again. “She’s in surgery now.”

“Thanks.” Mikey dialed Anette’s home number, taking a deep breath. It rang, and rang, and rang. ‘Oh, idiot,’ he chided himself. ‘She’s at work.’ He hung up. “Hey, can you look up a phone number for me please?”

“What’s the name?” the secretary asked, pulling out a phone book.

“It’s a business. It’s like… Vanity Floral or Variety Floral—”

“Valentine Floral?”

“Yeah, that place.”

She relayed the number, and in moment, Mrs. Baker had answered the phone.

“Valentine Floral, this is Shirley. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Baker? It’s Mikey, Mikey Way?”

“Oh, hello Mikey. What’s the occasion?”

Mikey took a deep breath. “Um, so, this is weird, but… I’m at the emergency room with Anette. We got mugged after school and she got shot in the leg.”

“Oh my God.”

“But she’s in surgery now, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” he pushed on, trying not to let her panic too much.

“Mikey, I’m on my way right now, but I’ll need to get Terrence first.”

“Okay, I’ll be here with her.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He hung up the phone. “Her mom’s on her way, she can finish it up.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Mikey couldn’t stand waiting in silence. He went out and grabbed his Walkman, headphones, and the first tape within reach. He checked it as he walked back into the lobby and sighed—blink-182, the only tape he and Anette could ever agree on listening to when they were in the car together. He had to skip every other song because they made his heart wince.

He had been sitting in a chair, tapping his foot to the bass lines of maybe four or five songs when Anette’s mom burst in the door, holding Terrene in one arm and her purse in the other.

“Mommy, where’s Annie?”

“Are you Miss Baker’s mother?”

“Yes, is my daughter okay?”

“Mommy!”

“I’ll take Terrence if you want, Mrs. Baker.”

“She’s in surgery right now.”

“Thank you, Mikey.”

“I need you to finish filling out this information.”

“Mommy!”

“Shh, Terrence, we’re gonna go hang out.”

Mikey tried to get Terrence to calm down, but he wasn’t nearly as good at it as Anette was. He took him outside and talked to him quietly, letting Terrence get tears and spit and snot on the shoulder of his tee-shirt.

“M-Mikey where’s Annie?”

Mikey brushed hair out of Terrence’s face. “She’s getting surgery, Terrence.”

“Why?”

“Her leg got hurt but the doctors are going to make her all better.”

Terrence wrapped his arms around Mikey’s neck, his tears slowing only a little. “Are you sure, Mikey?”

Mikey gulped, rubbing Terrence’s back gently. “Yes. She’ll be all better as soon as she can.”

The local bus pulled up and Mikey’s mom jumped off, her dyed blonde hair just as frantic and wild as her expression. “Michael, there you are!” she cried, pulling him into as tight of a hug as she could with Terrence in between them. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” They started inside. “Terrence, you’re going back to your mom now, okay?”

Terrence just nodded, and Mikey grabbed a tissue and got Terrence’s face mostly cleaned up before finding Anette’s mom. She was sitting in a plush chair, pretending to read a gossip magazine, and smiled up at Mikey as he set Terrence down in a chair next to her.

“Thank you, Mikey.”

“No problem.”

“Oh! Michael, you’ve got blood all over these pants.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” he muttered, flushing red. “It’ll wash out.”

Mrs. Way pursed her lips before taking a seat opposite Mrs. Baker, and then Mikey sat down next to his mom awkwardly. It was Anette’s mom that broke the silence. “Mikey, can you… can you tell us what happened?” she asked hesitantly. He nodded, but couldn’t meet her eyes.

“We, um… well, after class, we went down behind the school so we could talk and not have a lot of people around. We were there for just a few minutes, and…” Mikey found his throat suddenly dry. “And this… this guy came up the path with a gun. He was drunk too; I could smell it. And then he… he wanted money, and I tried to get us out of there but he wouldn’t listen to me. So Anette pulled out some money and gave it to him, and we thought it was okay, but he shot Anette in the leg and ran…” He couldn’t go on. All he could think was, ‘Where’s Gerard?’

“Well, it’s alright now. Anette’s probably going to be done soon, and you’re alright. If it wasn’t for you, I hate to think of what could have happened to her,” Mrs. Baker said, her eyes welling with tears.

“She would’a done the same for me,” Mikey mumbled, but he wasn’t so sure if this was true anymore.

-

It was another nearly half-hour before Anette was out of surgery, forty minutes before her mom and Terrence were allowed to see her, and then fifteen until they came back and told Mikey Anette had asked to see him. He nodded, handing his Walkman to his mom before walking in, trembling.

She was hooked up to an IV and a heart rate monitor, and the steady beeping made Mikey feel uncomfortable. He stood by the bed and ran a finger along the back of her right hand. She frowned, her eyes closed, and then mumbled, “Mikey?”

“Yeah.”

The frown turned to a slight smile, and she opened her eyes slightly. “I’m gonna be fine, Mikey.”

“Does it hurt much?”

“No, but it probably will later.”

“Okay, good. I mean, that it doesn’t hurt now.” He held her hand now in his – it was unnaturally cold. “Look, just so you know, I’ve told them we got mugged. So just… don’t mention Gerard please. I don’t want him to get into massive trouble.”

“Mikey, he needs help.”

“I know, and I’ll make sure he gets it just… just not like that.” Mikey leaned down and kissed her hand softly. “I’ll come by and see you tomorrow—”

“No.”

Mikey almost dropped her hand. “What?”

“You shouldn’t, Mikey.” Anette had a miserable look on her face, and she didn’t look at him. “We shouldn’t… it’s getting to not be a good idea anymore.”

“You’re saying we should stop being friends,” he said coldly, dropping her hand and stepping away, anger and hurt and confusion and the urge to both cry and hit something building in his chest.

“No, I just… we shouldn’t see so much of each other.”

“Same thing.” Mikey squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t cry. “I wish you would just remember what you said.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because you’d never believe me.” He took a shuddering breath and angrily wiped away the tears that had built at the edges of his eyes. “Bye, Anette. Hope you get better soon.” He turned for the door.

“Mikey?” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn around. “Thanks for saving me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah. I bet you wouldn’t.”