1. Maddison

Maddison

W alking this late at night might not have been one of my brightest ideas, but I don’t have a choice, either. A lot of my ideas aren’t great, but this one is definitely turning out to be an epic mistake.

The moon is nonexistent tonight, thanks to the heavy overcast of pollution. Between that, the fact that over half the lampposts that line the littered street are burned out, and even more of the nearby houses and shops are boarded up, the area is smothered in darkness.

Plenty of people are roaming around, but that makes me even more uneasy, since most of them are dealers or gang members.

“Hey, baby, what’re you doing out so late by yourself?” A guy about ten years older than me creeps out from the shadows of a nearby alley. He’s wearing holey jeans, a stained white shirt, and he’s carrying a brown paper bag that’s for sure hiding a bottle of alcohol.

I bite back the snarky comment burning at the tip of my tongue. Do not get into a fight this late, Maddy. It’s not worth it.

I keep repeating the mantra as I quicken my pace while wrapping my arms around myself. I’m wearing shorts and a gray T-shirt, my wavy long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and the thick soles of my boots scuff against the sidewalk that’s covered in trash. That’s typical for the northside of Royal City. But the southside of the city matches the name—the towering buildings and homes that are all splashed with wealth, glitter, and glam. Not the northside, though. No, the northside is polluted, grimy, and constantly smells like fish due to the canal that runs parallel to the area. When I was younger, I used to go down there and walk along it, pretending that it was a river in the mountains. I had a wicked imagination back then, but life has worn me down big time.

“Aw, come on.” The man stumbles after me, either intoxicated and/or high “Don’t be shy. I was just asking you a question.”

Irritation bursts inside, and I snap, “Go to hell,” from over my shoulder. Then I wince.

Shit. I probably made things worse.

Why do I have to open my mouth? Because I’m stupid? Repressed? Have spent years bottling up my rage?

Maybe a little bit of all three.

I pat my pocket for my pepper spray then realize I forgot it back at work. It’s sitting in my cubby with my apron. Dammit!

“Is that an invitation?” the man slurs.

I pick up my pace to a jog, and he laughs.

“Hey, come back! I’m not done playin’ with you!”

I run. Normally, I can run much faster than I can now. In fact, I’ve won a lot of medals for the track and cross country team. However, I wasn’t wearing thick, heavy boots when I did that. That leaves my speed limited, although I can still move pretty fast.

It’s a bold move to run in this particular part of the town where blending in and not drawing attention is a necessity for survival. But I’m not about to let Dumbass Drunk Man catch up with me. Sure, he’s wasted, and I might be able to hold my own if I have to fight him off. I’d rather avoid the violence, though, for a lot of reasons, one being that I’m already on probation due to an incident where I hit a man after he smacked my ass when I walked by. I got the blame, of course, which is totally unfair and probably seems crazy. But the man who smacked my ass was also the vice principal of my high school that I graduated from three months ago. No one believed my side of the story. Why would they when the vice principal is friends with the governor of the city and other powerful politicians? And me? I’m just trailer trash from the northside of the city. And my mom’s a drunk, and my father’s in prison.

I was lucky just to get put on probation. And so far, it hasn’t been too big of a deal, but if the police have to show up now because I’m in a fight, I could get blamed for it. Then I might get jail time since I’m eighteen now.

Freakin’ adult responsibilities suck big time, but I’ll handle them as maturely as possible?—

I slam into something rock solid and stumble back, crossing my fingers it’s a wall. When I glance up, however, the worst-case scenario is standing before me.

His name Drew, but everyone calls him Scar Man—and yeah, the guy is as dumb as his name. He declared the title himself, too, after he got a scar on his lip. A scar that he got when he tripped over his own shoelaces and ended up falling and smacking his face on the curb. But when people ask him, he tells them he got hit in the face by a mob boss.

I know the truth because I grew up with him and can remember when he fell. We used to be friends, too—sort of—but that ended when he started dealing and I wanted no part of it. My father’s a dealer, and now he’s behind bars. I have no dreams of following in his footsteps. I’m going to college in just a couple of days. I wish I could’ve gone to a university somewhere far away from here, but I can’t afford it. Thankfully, due to my academic and athletic success, I was able to get a scholarship at Royal City Community College. Once I graduate from there, I’m moving so far away from here and never looking back

“Maddy,” Drew—yeah, I refuse to call him Scar Man—greets me with a smirk.

“Drew,” I reply like I’m bored when, in all actuality, I’m on edge.

Drew runs with a group of people who despise my father because he narced on them when he got arrested in exchange for a lighter sentence. Since the people that he got arrested can’t get to him, they use their lackeys out here to try to use me as their punching bag. This is part of the reason why I shouldn’t have been roaming around town this late at night. But I had to work the night shift at the diner I’ve been employed at for two years. Usually, I request not to work late, but it pays time and a half, and the boss needed me to fill in for someone. Plus, tips are better during the later hours, since most of the patrons are drunk. I need the money because the scholarship doesn’t cover books and other expenses. Just tuition.

Drew’s lips twitch. “I told you not to call me that anymore. It’s Scar Man.”

I roll my eyes. “Dude, I hate to break it to you, but Scar Man is a stupid name.”

His fingers curl into fists. He’s a massive guy that rolls in at about six-four and weighs about two hundred and forty pounds. While I highly doubt he’ll hit me, a tiny bit of doubt causes me to spin around and run.

“Maddy!” he calls after me. “Don’t run! You’ll only make it worse!”

I’ve been avoiding Drew since my dad outed his gang of friends and got half of them arrested. I knew once I ran into one of them, I’d probably get dragged down an alleyway and get my butt beat. And that’s the best-case scenario. The worse is that I’ll end up in the smelly canal with northside’s discarded trash and the people that overdose.

I take off into a full-on sprint, heading in the wrong direction of my house, meaning I’ll have to backtrack. I round back around the corner, only to find that the drunk guy from earlier is still lurking nearby. When he spots me, he gives me a huge, yellow-teeth grin.

“You’re back.” He flicks his cigarette onto the ground then stumbles toward me.

Cursing under my breath, I hurry across the street. But halfway across, I slam to a halt at the sight of three of Drew’s friends heading toward me. I reel back around, but Drew is right there.

His arms circle around me. “Just stop fighting it, Maddy. You know you’re going to have to pay his debt sooner or later, so just get it over with.”

“Never!” I try to slam my head against his face, but Drew manages to dodge it. Then, using his strength, he pins me against him as the other people reach us.

Elli, who’s the tallest and bulkiest of the bunch, stops right in front of me. “I’d like to pass along a message to your father, Maddy,” he tells me with a grin. “He will pay his debt when he gets out of jail. And if he doesn’t, his punishment will be worse than the one you’re about to get.”

I try to wiggle my way out of Drew’s grip, but he’s way too strong. “I don’t even talk to my father,” I insist. “I hate him more than you guys do.”

Elli lets out a hollow laugh. “Your father is the reason my brother’s in jail and why my mama started drinking again, so trust me when I say that’s bullshit.”

Now I’m the one to hollowly laugh. “Yeah, well, my father beat me and my mother for eighteen years, so eat shit, Elli.”

His lips twitch in annoyance, and then he slips on brass knuckles. “I don’t give a shit about you or your mother. You father’s debt needs to be paid, and either your mother or you are going to do it for him.”

While I’m not a fan of my mother, I don’t hate her; I just pity her. She’s been married to my abusive father for twenty-plus years. It’s a sad, tragic life that I’ve tried to convince her to leave, yet she always stands by him.

But I’m not about to stand here and let this guy beat me up. I’m a fighter. I had to be since the day I came into this world kicking and screaming. According to stories my grandma used to tell before she died, I was the loudest, angriest baby she’d ever seen. I don’t think I was angry, though. I think I somehow knew what was waiting for me in the future and was absolutely terrified.

I push up on my feet, lift up, and slam my boots into Elli’s face, hitting him right in the nose. He cries out in pain, and Drew lets out a string of curses, his grip around me loosening. I seize the opportunity to elbow him in the gut. He grunts, hunching over and letting me go. Then I swing right and run down the road.

“Get her!” someone shouts.

Footsteps hammer after me.

I run as fast as I can, which is pretty damn fast, for about thirty seconds, and it feels like I have a chance of getting away. But then red and blue lights illuminate the street. A split-second later, three police vehicles are blocking my way. I’d be relieved, but my past experiences with police haven’t been fantastic.

My worry becomes justified when an officer gets out of his car and yells, “Stop right where you are, Maddison, and put your hands up.”

Great. I know the officer. He’s the one who arrested me the last time and who seems to be besties with my vice principal. Plus, he loathes my dad.

Dammit, I’m screwed.