Unmasked

Finn's POV

Dinner flew by like it usually did on Saturday nights. My stomach barely digested the spaghetti and meatballs Mom made as I rode the subway. I leaned against a metal wall, the vibrations shook me as the carriage raced to its next stop. I withdrew the blue iPod from a pocket, cranking up the volume when a lady close to me started yapping loudly into her phone. Sheesh. Maybe I should invite her to my group meeting, our circle could do her good.

I snorted at my own sarcasm. I'd been going to these group meetings for almost three years. I'd watched faces come and go. I could've walked away a year ago, but Mom thought I should keep going until high school was finished. Maybe she thought high school had been the reason for the outburst of violence three years ago. I'd heard her talking with Dad once, saying maybe I'd been too stressed. Being a freshman and already being a star on the swim team.

I sighed softly, bobbing my head at the sound of alternative rock. Spending Saturday nights sitting in a freaking circle, listening to other peoples' problems wasn't my idea of a good time. I felt the carriage slow, until it hiccuped once before halting completely. The subway doors whooshed open and I moved towards it along with a multitude of people, the loud-mouth lady stayed inside as the doors closed behind me and the subway carried on. Thank God, I thought, lowering the volume before my eardrums exploded.

Once I finished climbing the underground stairs leading top-side, I walked twenty feet until I snuck inside a building with white fluorescent lights. One blinked in and out of existence as I walked under it, ducking into a long hallway. There were several doors, each had something written across them. I knew the door for me was number four on the left, the one reading Anger Management Group. I fought a groan going inside. The room never changed; ten chairs formed a circle at the center. In a far corner were cheap biscuits along with cups and water bottles. On the walls were posters screaming things like: CONTROLLING ANGER-BEFORE IT CONTROLS YOU.

I still remembered my first time here. Johnny had been the one to drop me off. He'd walked me inside before Dr. Fitz politely told him to leave so the session could kick off. Upon seeing the posters, I'd felt like ripping them off, screaming I didn't have issues. Especially 'anger' or 'rage' ones. I was—am—a pretty laid back guy.

But that would've proved the opposite.

I took my seat next to Ray. He was a quiet dude around my brother's age. He'd gotten into a fight with a guy at work after finding out he was sleeping with his girlfriend. I wouldn't exactly call him a menace to society. There were others who had the occasional road-rage. Most here were pretty harmless. Aside from a pierced, tattooed guy who had a goatee and scared me shitless. I wasn't sure how harmless he was.

My hands were shoved into my pockets as my knee bounced up and down. Sitting was easy. After a minute I could tune out what people said, I'd heard it all before along the last years. But when Dr. Fitz turned his gaze on me, I froze.

"Finn? Would you like to share anything with us?" Every fucking Saturday for the past three years he asked me the same thing. "Your time with us is almost over, as I understand. It would be a shame to let this experience go to waste."

Spare me the soap-opera speech. I didn't need to share with strangers what happened three years ago. That shit was personal. It involved April—my little sister. And she was sacred. Aiden Marloon had learned that lesson the hard way.

"I'm good," I quipped, slumping in the chair.

"Yes, those have been your words for three years now." Dr. Fitz stated with a morose look. I kept an eye roll under wraps. Just barely.

Lucky for me, Ray butted in. Sharing and telling seemed easy for him. Talking about the shit that happened, the moment my whole life changed... I just couldn't deal. Through the whole meeting one single thought ran through my mind: one more month and it's over. After almost one hour and a half, the circle was dismantled and I couldn't get to the door fast enough—

"Finn? Can I have a word with you?" Dr. Fitz's caustic voice caused me to cringe on a deep cellular level. Why couldn't I have super-powers? Like super-speed? Or invisibility?

Turning around, I shifted my face into a less painful expression. One that didn't make it seem like I was being stabbed with a four inch needle in my eye.

"Sure, doc." His nose crinkled. I fought the sudden urge to chuckle. "What's up?"

"You've been with us for a long time. You've watched people come and go, heard their stories and hopefully you've learned from their mistakes. Of course it would tranquilize me if you shared your own experience with aggression..."

Heaving a drawn-out sigh, I faced Doctor Fitz with honesty written across my face.

"Listen, doc. What happened was a... spur of the moment thing. I've always been pretty mellow."

A shroud of doubt rolled into his eyes. He lifted a folder, shaking it a bit, before I caught my name on it in big letters. I knew that file held every detail about what happened that night, along with a psych evaluation the police's psychiatrist had run on me as procedure.

"From what I've read here, Finn, you were very angry. Not to mention excessively violent towards that boy. You put him in a hospital bed for almost a month. He was in a two-day coma."

"I... I know that. I know," I turned eyes on a curling poster. "Do you have any siblings, Mr. Fitz?"

"I don't."

"Then you can't understand what I felt that night. You don't know what it's like to have your sister—your little sister—running out of her bedroom with her clothes torn. Crying and screaming... Screaming for help." I swallowed, feeling my fists shake as images flashed behind closed eyes. I could hear April's high-pitched shrieks, her blond hair falling wildly, her eyes puffy and rivers of tears falling. I inhaled deeply as I remembered asking her... My eyes snapped open. "That bastard ripped her clothes—he tried raping her. In our house. A guy I thought was my friend." I spat.

Doctor Fitz's glasses slid down his nose cane, he didn't push them back up like he always did. He was stoic, focused on me. He was like that for about a half minute, enough time for me to wonder if this talk was finished and I could turn around and go home.

"You're right," I blinked away from the door, meeting his eyes. "That... I can't say I know what you felt. But nothing justifies beating a person so badly, to an inch of their life. What that boy did—"

"Tried to do," I emended quickly.

He nodded slowly, "What he tried to do to your sister was horrible. It's the most horrible crime against women, but you're not God, Finn. No one has the right to decide if a person lives or dies." A lot of people in New York would disagree. How many people had been convicted? "I know nothing like that has happened again. I hope you never deter from the path you're on now."

With those lovely last words, I was freed from our little chat. Thank God, I'd felt the urge to run out of that place every five seconds. The subway ride back home was filled with even more people, which was pretty usual on a Saturday night. I walked a couple of blocks before I rode the elevator to our second floor flat. I knew my parents weren't home, they were out with a couple of friends, doing what I should be doing—socializing over a drink. Or two. Or an entire six-pack.

"Did you bring me a glazed doughnut?" April called, strutting out of her bedroom.

"Huh, no." She went for the puppy face the second the words left my mouth. "I said I wouldn't, didn't I?"

"I thought emoticon-bombing you would change your mind." I remembered the way my phone had buzzed all the way to the anger management meeting. I hadn't checked my phone until now… My eyebrows jerked in surprise. Twenty-seven texts from April appeared on the screen.

I looked up smiling, "This is obnoxious even for you."

April walked over to a stool around the kitchen island, plopping down with puffed cheeks.

"Hey, I sent you cute ones. Did you see the kitten?" I scrolled over several emoticons and weird alien-like faces until I found what she meant. She knew I loved cats. Okay, maybe if I'd seen this one I would've bought her a doughnut. "How did it go?"

I shoved the phone into my back pocket, roaming across the living space and into kitchen territory. I set my sights on the fridge, I was going to need food for this conversation. It made me nervous. And when I was nervous I ate. A lot. I pulled out cold chicken from the night before. April got up from her seat, going for the plate cabinet.

"Thanks," I said after she brought a plate over as I started unfolding the chicken. "It went well. Like always, I guess." My shrug was stiff.

"I keep telling Mom you shouldn't have to go to those meetings. What happened wasn't your fault—not really. It…"

"It wasn't yours, either." I shot back lightning fast, glaring strongly at her to drive my point across.

"I know," she said sighing, crossing her lithe arms across her stomach. Her socked feet shifted as she looked down at them. "It was his fault, Finn. He made a bad decision and you… you defended me. Johnny would've done the same." I knew that. It was rare for this topic to come up, but when it did, Johnny kept saying he would've done much worse to Aiden. Thing was, what happened on my watch, on my freaking party, would've never happened in one of Johnny's.

"Johnny would've made sure we weren't home, that we were sleeping over at a friend's house or something. I didn't care. I just cared that Mom and Dad were away for the weekend and Johnny was working a late shift—" our brother used to work at a Starbucks "I didn't think about what could happen with you home."

She held out her arms, "You couldn't have guessed Aiden would try to…" April paused, hair hiding most of her face. "To do that," April and I never talked about this. Not really. We stuck to harmless jabs like normal big brother and little sister, because the mere thought of my party-gone-horribly-wrong was just too painful for us both. "Just don't… Don't blame yourself, Finn. It's the last thing I want."

I knew that. But it was impossible not to play the blame game. I'd invited a fleet of high school students into our home, uncaring of my sister's safety. All because of being popular, a swim team star. I snorted, turning to the microwave with a plate with enough chicken for three people. Look where that fame got me? Two years later, I'm a math nerd with little friends, who lets himself be bullied by jackasses like Christian and getting my ass saved by girls—well, by one girl.

"Trip hasn't been coming around lately." Hello complete change of subject.

"He's a busy dude, sis. And he has a very serious girlfriend." I pointed out just in case she'd forgotten.

Her nose twitched in slight disgust, "Like I want to hit on your friend?" she rolled her blue eyes. "What about the prom-girl?"

"What?"

"The girl you danced with at prom? Don't play dumb." Half of me wished she kept asking about Trip. "Have you guys been hanging out?"

"No. We're not friends."

"Huh-uh," she tapped her chin. "Johnny said you looked… smitten, when you got home from prom." April batted her eyelashes sweetly, lacing her fingers under her chin.

The microwave pinged. I opened it in a fit of annoyance, pulling out the smoking chicken and setting it on the counter. I leaned on it, across from my sister, narrowing my eyes.

"I. Wasn't. Smitten."

"Sure," she dragged out the word, leaning in, putting our faces inches away. "You're too cool to like anyone. No one can crack your rock heart." Sitting back down, she stuck out her tongue. Looking smug. "What's her name?"

"Valerie," I said without thinking.

April smiled happily like she'd won the lottery.

"Valerie. I like it. When do I get to meet her?"

"Never," I fished out a fork from a drawer behind me.

"Finn!" She whined.

"Don't be a brat," I stabbed a piece of chicken, watching as smoke wafted from it. "Did any mail arrive for me today?" Getting the mail was April's duty this week, according to her wheel chart.

"Nope," she was texting something on her phone. "Why?"

"Nothing," I mumbled chewing. "Just waiting for some colleges to get back to me."

"Is MIT one of them?"

"Possibly," she glanced up for a second opening her mouth and then shutting it. I knew my family was keen on the idea of me going so far away, they thought Yale, Columbia or even NYU were good colleges and okay, they were good. But MIT was the best when it came to technology. Getting admitted into such a prestige university would be Christmas, my birthday and Halloween all rolled into one. It was mostly a dream, probably never going to happen because their admittance rate was like eight percent or seven. So, yeah. Dreams down the drain. "Have you talked to mom and dad about your summer internship?"

"Huh, possible summer internship and no, I haven't. I submitted my application two weeks ago. We have to wait a month to know if we're in... I'm nervous."

"About getting in?" I scoffed. "You can draw clothes, bags and whatever it is you girls love to buy and accessorize with. Seriously, I'm pretty sure you sew with your eyes closed."

April grinned putting away her phone. Her eyes fell onto the floor for a second. I frowned.

"That's not what I'm nervous about... I mean, what if I do get in? Mom and dad..."

"Will be really happy for you. Like always." I shrugged not getting her problem.

Her nose twitched as she bit her lip, still not looking up.

"Yeah, they will... But what if I... don't want to finish high school? What if I want to drop out?"

Oh. Okay. Well, this was news to me. Not that April showed her love for school or had awing grades, but dropping out? I'd never heard her talking about that. April usually kept to herself, drawing and sewing in her bedroom, she teased me and I teased her back. It was rare to act serious together.

I could see by the shinning in her blue eyes—she was staring right into my eyes now—that this was a biggie for her. It was eating her inside, probably had been ever since she filled out the application for whatever designer brand.

"Look," I put down the fork getting into big brother mode as best as possible. "Not everyone has to finish high school, not everyone wants to go to college. It's not written anywhere as a law, okay? Johnny went to law school because he found a way to defend the environment through it. I want to go to college and be... I'm not sure what yet—" that made her smile a little "But that's us. We like being tortured a few more years with memorizing and stressing over exams and papers. It's not you. Drawing and fashion have always been your passion, April. If you get this internship and they end up wanting you as an intern or whatever, go for it Mom and dad will love you no matter what you choose—they'll encourage you."

The stool I was sitting on rocked back a bit when April came at me like a speedster and drew her arms tight around me. The demonstration of sisterly love lasted about half a minute. Which was very long for her.

"Sometimes you sound really smart," she murmured teasingly. "I almost believe we're related."

"You're hilarious, you should do stand-up comedy, sis." I threw back, smiling genuinely as she crossed the living room throwing a glance over her shoulder. It reminded me a little of that night... when she looked at me like I was her savior and while I was around nothing bad would happen to her.

But that wasn't true. I'd put her in that messed up situation in the first place. I hadn't felt like her hero that night, I'd felt like a villain.