Knock Me Down

I was still frozen in place as I watched her leave the book store with her friend. They were laughing about something and it was once again another startling realization that the girl I attacked that night had an entire world I almost took away from her. Her voice had sounded softer than that night, less fearful and more calm. I wondered if I were to tell her what happened behind the scenes if she would possess the same hatred I was sure she felt toward her attacker, toward me, now. I knew nothing could make up for the pain and torment I put her through, but I had nightmares every single night since it happened, and I wondered if she would feel better knowing that.

I let myself finally breathe normally again once I watched her disappear. I hadn’t seen her since that night, when I had looked at her I.D. to find her address and hid stealthily behind a tree to make sure she had gotten home okay. I knew it was a bad idea for a criminal to be sneaking around his victim’s property, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that those guys would go looking for her if they found out she was alive. She had a big house, a fence wrapped around it with a pass-code lock to get into the yard. I stayed until a taxi pulled up and a minute or so later she got out, her hands shaking as she closed the car door and tried to manage to punch the correct pass-code in. She ran inside and I ran home, my own hands trembling the entire way.

Candice resumed her life like nothing had happened. She didn’t cry, she didn’t binge drink like I assumed she would, given her past, and she never mentioned it again to me no matter how hard I insisted that she tell me exactly how she ended up in that situation that night. I barely saw her for long since she no longer lived at home, my father’s hatred for her finally exploding one night last August that sent her packing and within a new home in less than two days.

It drove me hysterical not being informed on why things happened. That night I had been on my way to a house party hosted by some guy named Braydon. I didn’t know who Braydon was, but my closest friend, Matt, knew him and told me to swing by if I had nothing better to do. I was content with that plan. I didn’t spend every weekend partying but I also didn’t spend all of my time at home either, so I decided to go. My sister called me in a panic and told me she was in the kind of trouble that could get her killed and I panicked myself. She told me they were on to her so I asked for directions and told her to hide someplace where they wouldn’t find her, but they did find her. They found her at the same time I did, my body just bending down to help her up when I felt a gun press against my temple and a voice shouting at me to “do the fuck what you’re told.” After that they gave me the orders and told me they would kill my baby sister if I didn’t. I hated that I was part of something bigger than me, but I had no idea what that meant.

I wondered if Ivy found me familiar at all and then had a panic attack in the middle of the isle when I realized what that would mean for me. I would go to jail and my sister would have nobody to help her next time. My dad would disown me, he always hated criminals, even the ones who claimed they stole food from grocery stores to feed their family. He’s always said that a person who can’t afford to provide for their family is not a worthwhile person to begin with because it meant they weren’t trying hard enough. As if any homeless person without an address or clean clothes can walk into whichever establishment they choose and nail a job on the spot. I knew what he thought about those people, imagine what he would think about me. I swallowed hard at the thought, trying to calm myself from hyperventilating any further.

“Are you okay, dude? You look a little pale.” My best friend, Ashton, said once he turned around the corner and noticed me clutching hard to a copy of Michael Faudet’s “Dirty Pretty Things” I had been holding before my run-in with Ivy. I straightened myself out and gave him a nod, collecting myself in my usual confident manner. I tapped his arm with the corner of the book and walked past him, my head hanging high like I was too cool to respond to him. I saw him shake his head with the corner of my eye and was grateful I had fooled him.

“Chellos tonight?” I asked, in desperate need of a drink. Chellos was the name of a bar downtown that a bunch of us liked to go down to on Saturday nights to pick up chicks. Lately, I had usually gone down for a few drinks and left without saying anything because Ashton had already left the group to go home with whichever girl he picked out of the bunch that night. I wondered what it would feel like to get back into the game, but I knew I would end up at home alone again trying not to fall asleep in fear of my nightmares returning.

“You know it.” He pat me on the back. “Deanna’s going downtown tonight by the way, not really sure if you’re avoiding her, but coming from my personal but professional opinion, I think you shouldn’t be.” I raised my eyebrows at him with a smirk.

“Your professional opinion, eh?” He shrugged like he always did when he thought he knew best. But he didn’t know best. He didn’t know about what I had done and how much I could not let Deanna into my life. She was so beautiful, kind and smart, her deep brown eyes captivating me in a trance every time I looked into them. She deserved better than me.

“She’s hot, Hunt.” I let myself cringe at his version of my name. I hated Hunt and he knew it, but trying to get Ashton to care about crap like that was exhausting so I let him do it. I rolled my eyes at him not surprised at all that his first reason for me to be with her was because she was hot.

“Yeah, well, it’s not happening anymore.” I tossed the book onto the counter in front of me in frustration and promptly apologized to the check-out lady. She gave me a small smile and scanned my items. “Plum rewards?” she asked. I shook my head and held up my debit card. I turned to Ashton after paying.

“Thank god we’re done here. The smell of books is so nauseating.” He groaned. He hated coming to Chapters with me. He always made a big deal when I suggested it but came with me anyway out of boredom. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stay away. I loved books so much I felt like sometimes they were the only things that kept me sane. Poetry, philosophy, psychology, history, I loved it all.

“That’s because your brain is too full of shit.” I laughed. Ashton pretended to throw a punch at me and I flinched, raising my arms up in defense. “I give! I give!” I shouted.

“Yeah, you better!”