Chapter Thirty-six

Isee her every day, but I can't talk to her or touch her. All I can do is watch her from a distance like a creeper while my heart continues to break each day.

Can you live without a heart?

It's been weeks and she hasn't replied to any of my text messages or taken any of my calls.

Seb says Shorty walks through the halls at school with dark circles underneath her eyes. She must not be eating because her clothes seem to be looser.

That's how bad my girl has been suffering. I need to hold her. I need to feel her warm body against mine. If she only knew how much I need her—how much we need each other.

Call it co-dependency or some shit. I don't give a fuck.

"Dude! Ash yells over Metallica's "One" blaring through the speakers as I pound the shit out of the bag in front of me.

"D. Stop." His tone is soft but full of worry. I feel his hand on my back, trying to calm my anger. Throwing one last punch, I walk over to the radio and shut it off. Grabbing the towel, I wipe the sweat off my face and then throw it over my shoulder. Ash hands me a bottle of water as I lower myself to the bench.

He follows my lead and sits beside me.

We just finished having Thanksgiving dinner with the family, but I hardly ate anything. Mom gave me a worried look and begged me to eat. The long dining table was cluttered with fancy silverware that looked like Martha Stewart threw up on the table.

Sitting at the table were my aunt and uncle on my dad's side, three cousins, two who are the same age as Ash and me, and my grandma. The house was full of laughter, good food, and good company, but it felt empty without my Shorty.

"I'm worry about you, D." I lean back and let out a deep breath.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself." When I don't respond, he lowers his head and sighs in frustration.

After a few minutes of silence, I glance over at Ash leaning forward with his head hanging low and his face in his hands. It pains me to see my brother suffer because he too feels the pain.

"I miss her," I finally respond in a quiet voice.

"I know. Me too," he agrees.

"I can't keep doing this, man. I just want her back." Leaning my head back, I shut my eyes.

The cold concrete wall feels good.

"Has she called you or texted you back?" He takes my silence, as my answer.

Ash's annoying Stewie Griffin ringtone on his phone goes off.

"Dude. You need to change that fucking tone."

"No way." He laughs as he accepts the call. "Sup, Jag."

Zoning him out, my thoughts drifts to Shorty. The first time I laid eyes on her. The kiss on the roof. The way she moved her sexy body. God. I fucking miss her.

"D. Yo, D!" Ash's obnoxious voice breaks through my thoughts.

"What," I snap, glaring at him.

"Jag and Wyatt are on their way to the range. Perfect therapy to blow shit up."

"I'll pass." I stand and walk toward the steps.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"Call me if you need me, ok?" He sounds annoyed.

"D! You hear me?" he yells as I walk upstairs to my bedroom ignoring him. Slamming the door behind me, I walk over to my desk, checking for any messages or missed calls from Shorty.

Nothing.

"Fuck!"

Throwing the bottle of water across the room, I watch it hit the wall. Frustrated, I walk into the bathroom and take a shower. Once I'm done and dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, I grab my phone and dial Tia's number.

It rings a few times before she finally picks up.

"I haven't heard from her." Her words are like a knife to my already broken heart.

I sigh. "Come on, Tia. I need to know if she's ok." I sit on the edge of my bed, running my hands through my wet hair.

"She's fine, Donnie. She sends me a text twice a day letting me know she's alright."

"Is she working tonight?"

"Don't think about it, Donnie. You can't show up at her job. What part of staying away from her do you not understand?"

"I don't fu—"

"Stop. She's doing this to keep you safe. She would break if anything happened to you. These guys are for real, ok?"

I pinch the bridge of my noise in aggravation. I'm losing my fucking patience.

She sighs through the phone, but it's a sincere sigh.

"I'll tell her to call you, ok?"

"Yeah?" I try to hold back my excitement.

"Yeah, really." She pauses for a minute before she continues. "She misses you too. Don't give up on her, ok? She will survive this if you accept her decision and trust that she's making the right one."

And with that, the line goes dead. I lay on my bed on top of the covers when my phone rings.

It's Tia.

I turn to the clock on the end table; it seems I dozed off for two hours.

"What's up?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

"She hasn't texted me, Donnie." There's a slight panic in her voice.

That gets my ass off the bed.

"Did you hear me?" she whispers yells through the phone.

"What do you mean she hasn't texted you?"

"Just what it sounds like, asshole! She always texts me at nine p.m., it's eleven p.m. Her phone goes straight to voicemail." Her tone has changed from annoyed to worry.

"Fuck. I'm heading over there now." I grab my keys, throw on my hoodie, and toss my phone on the bed with Tia on speaker.

"Are you crazy? You can't go to her house."

"Why?"

"Her dad's home."

I freeze in place, hearing the three words that always send a shiver down my spine.

"What did you say?"

She sighs. "Her dad is home."

"What do you mean he's home? I thought the fucker was dead," I say through gritted teeth.

"Dead? What the hell are you talking about? He's not dead, even though he should be," she grumbles through the phone.

Silence.

No. No, no, no!

Why would Shorty lie to me? This whole time he's been alive which only means one thing—he's still hurting her.

The bruises.

The red marks on her neck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I bang my cellphone against my forehead.

"FUCK!" I roar.

"WHAT THE FUCK, DONOVAN!" Tia hollers.

"She told me he was dead, Tia. DEAD! Why the fuck would she lie to me?" I snap through my gritted teeth, gripping my cellphone nearly to the point of breaking it in half.

"What do you mean she…oh," Tia says as realization sets in.

"Yeah, oh," I sarcastically reply with anger fueling my body.

"Donnie, she meant well, ok? She was trying to protect you. She—"

"Stop! Enough with this protecting me bullshit. She had no right to lie to me. I know firsthand the damage that piece of shit caused her. I could've protected her! I-I…"

I'm so fucking angry I can't think straight.

I hang up the phone, run down the stairs, and jump in my Divo Bugatti, speeding down the highway and not caring if I get pulled over.

I'm coming for you, baby.

When I make it to Shorty's house, I park a few houses down when the screen on my phone lights up, vibrating on the passenger's seat.

There are several missed calls and text message from Tia.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?" It's Ash.

"I'm at Shorty's."

"WHAT? Why the fuck are you over there?"

"Tia hasn't heard from her tonight. She was freaking out, so I came out here to check on her."

"Fuck. You should've called me." He sighs with frustration.

"Ash, her dad is fucking alive. Alive. I-I- I don't know what I'm going to walk into, but I can't leave her behind."

Heavy breathing, silence, and more heavy breathing. "I"m on my way. Just wait for me to get there before you go busting down her door."

"I can't promise you that. I have to go."

"D—"

I hang up before he can respond. The fear and adrenaline fuel my body as I slide out of the car. The street is packed with cars on both sides and the houses are lit up bright with Christmas lights.

The vibration in my pockets are text messages blowing up my phone. I don't have to look at them to know who they were coming from.

I stand in front of a metal fence noticing the porch light on, and a dim light peeking through the curtains in the living room. Shorty's car is parked on the side, and two more vehicles are in the driveway. One must be her mom's and the other is Josiah's, but I don't see a third one. If her dad is here, it could be any of the cars parked on the side street.

Fuck.

It's too quiet.

Slowly walking up to the house, I make my way toward Shorty's bedroom window. A smile forms on my face when I notice the step stool I used to climb into her window is still there. I peek into the window and notice her bedroom light is off. I lightly tap on the window a few times, but no answer. I pull out my phone and sent her a text message.

Me: Are you ok?

No response.

I make my way toward the back of the house. The closer I am, the more dread twists in my gut and fear causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I open the screened door and notice the door is cracked open. I slowly open it and look around and behind the door before I enter the house.

God. The house is just how I remembered it.

I close the door quietly behind me and creep through the short hallway. The TV is on, and the house has a rice and chicken aroma making my mouth water. Shorty's family never has turkey on Thanksgiving. It's their tradition to have anything but that.

The house is silent …something doesn't feel right.

All the bedrooms and bathrooms are straight ahead down the narrow hallway. The living room is on my left, and the kitchen on my right. Red or blue pill? Which room should I check first? On full alert, I peek in the living room but don't see anyone at first. Then a pair of Nikes on the floor next to the coffee table catches my eye. I walked toward them and my blood freezes in my veins. Josiah is laying on his back covered in blood. His face is unrecognizable. Busted lip, a gash underneath his eye, black and blue bruises all over his face.

"Jesus." I run my hand through my hair. Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure a surprise attack isn't waiting for me. I bend down, placing my fingers on Josiah's neck to check for any sign of life.

Oh, thank fuck. Pulse is faint but he's still alive.

I reach for my phone and dial 9-1-1.

"9-1-1. What is the location of your emergency?" A female's voice answers the call.

"It's 54 S. Mitchell Ave." I keep my voice low, not knowing if her dad is still here.

"What is your call back number in case we get disconnected?"

"414-920-6140."

"What is your name?"

"Donovan."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

"My friend is unconscious."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Josiah Ramirez."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, but barely breathing."

"I'm sending someone over to you now. Is there anyone else in the house?"

"I don't know."

"Does anyone live in the house?"

"Oh shit." When it finally dawns on me that Shorty and her mom could be in the house.

"What is it, sir?"

"I need to find her."

"Sir, I don't recommend you leave his side. You don't know if the attacker is still in the house."

Ignoring the dispatcher's warning, I make my way toward the kitchen and…

No. No, no, no.

The scene in front of me paralyzes me in place. I am in a complete state of panic. Shorty is laying on her side in a pool of blood and not moving.

"Sir. Are you still there?"

"Fuck." My voice cracks with raw emotion.

"Sir? What is happening?"

"Shorty?" My voice trembles as my knees give out and I land on the floor beside her frail body.

"There's so much blood." I don't recognize my own voice. Tears are falling from my eyes as I drop my phone from my trembling hands.

"Shorty. Can you hear me?" I hold her lifeless body in my arms. Her beautiful face is covered with blood, there's so much blood.

Oh fuck! She's been stabbed.

This can't be happening.

Please, Shorty. Don't leave me.

"Oh, God! Why did you lie to me!" I cry out hugging her limp body close to me. Her skin is cold, arms slumped to the side.

I scan Shorty's body and notice blood begins to ooze out from her stomach. I pull off my hoodie and apply pressure.

"Open your eyes, baby." Crying softly, I try not to lose it. "Please wake up, baby. Please."

The door flies open, and Ash, Wyatt, and Jag run into the kitchen.

"Holy shit!" Ash wraps his hands around the back of his head with fear in his eyes as he takes in the scene around him.

"Dude. Is that another body?" Wyatt yells as he runs toward the woman I recognize as Shorty's mom. I didn't even see her. My eyes found Shorty first.

"What the fuck happened?" Jag's face is completely pale as he chokes out the words, kneeling beside me.

"Her father did this." I sob, holding my hoodie against her stomach while watching Shorty's life slowly fade away.

"I thought he was dead?" Jag asks but I don't respond.

"Shorty, please, baby. Wake up. Please don't leave me," I cry as I whisper in her ear, hoping she hears me. "I'm so sorry."

"Do we know if the fucker is still in the house?" That was Wyatt.

"Did anyone check the house?" Ash asks with wide eyes.

Jag hears the dispatcher on the line and snatches my phone from the floor, walking away to answer her questions. I stopped listening to her the moment the guys walked in.

I raise my eyes toward the ceiling. God, please wake me up from this nightmare.

"D." Ash places his hands on my shoulder.

"D," he says again but his voice is broken; he's holding back a sob.

"Her brother is in the living room. Can you check on him?" My voice is hollow. I can't have him lose it on me, otherwise I'll be completely fucked and will not be able to handle if I lose Shorty.

"Yeah. Alright man." He walks away as the sirens are heard in the background.

"I'm going to wait outside and lead them here," Jag says as he runs out the door.

"Please, baby. Please come back to me. Please," I beg, crying. How could this happen? Why did she fucking lie to me? Why didn't anyone protect her? I failed her…again.

"God damn it!" A broken sob escapes from my chest.

"Hey D, the paramedics are here." Jag lays his hand on my shoulder.

"No. I'm not leaving her."

"D, come on man—"

"No! If I move, she'll bleed out."

"Sir, please step aside so we can help her," one of the paramedics says as she lowers to the ground next to Shorty and sets her medical bag down. She covers my hand with hers and gives me a sympathetic smile. "It's ok. We will take care of her. You did good. I'm going to remove your hand and replace it with mine, ok?"

I nod like a petulant child.

"What is her name?"

"Shorty," I respond in a quiet voice.

I think I'm in shock.

"We need to stabilize her head and neck. We don't know the extent of her injuries." I watch as the paramedics wrap her neck with a brace and lift her onto the stretcher with an IV sticking out of the palm of her hand, and an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

"I need to be with her," I demand, walking beside Shorty and holding her hand.

"Sir, you are not able to ride with her."

"I am not leaving her side," I growl, my hands balled into fists.

"Sir! You need to st—"

"D. We'll follow the ambulance, ok?" Ash interrupts as Shorty is wheeled out of the front door.

"Fucking Christ! Get off me. I need to check on my sister and my mom!" A deep voice vibrates throughout the house. I turn to see Josiah on the stretcher fighting with the paramedics as they lead him out the front door.

"Sir, you need to calm down," the paramedic orders with a stern voice. He has to be at least twenty-one years old.

Josiah's eyes widen when he sees me standing in the hallway of his childhood family home.

"Donnie! Thank fuck. Where's mom? Where's Sade? Is she ok?" His voice is full of panic when he sees the blood on my clothes. And it's a lot of fucking blood.

"I don't know. She was…." I can barely get the words out. There was so much blood.

"No," he whispers. I can't tell if he's crying because his face is so fucked up.

Hearing the howling screams coming out of a gangster tears my insides apart.

I can't fucking lose her.

I won't survive this time.