The Shadow of Our Past

Revenge

My knee bounces uncontrollably, hands shaky from the overwhelming nervousness crashing onto my mind. Kira is drumming her fingers against the wheel of her car, taking deep breaths. Our hands are clutching onto each other with unforgiving grips.

"You don't have to do this, you know that right?" she mutters, gazing over to me. The lump in my throat seems to get bigger as the bouncing of my leg grows faster with my rising anxiety. All I trust myself to do is nod in response. Jason and Luke are already inside waiting for me to give them the all clear, but god knows I would rather stay here.

"I shouldn't leave them waiting." My voice is calm, doing my thumping heart no justice. "I'll tell you when to call me. Please, whatever happens don't come back until the police are here. I don't care if I'm on the ground dying. Wait."

She sighs, squeezing my hand harder. "You really didn't have to put the vision of you dying in my mind, but okay."

"I'll be fine, I promise. This isn't the first time anyways." Somehow, that fact is almost reassuring. This won't be the first time we've been through something like this and it hopefully won't last very long. If we can pull this off, then we might actually have some hope.

I reach for the door with my free hand, but I hesitate. Turning to Kira, my body almost instinctively leans over to pepper a kiss onto her cheek. Then, without another word, I exit the car. She starts pulling out of the driveway, eyes locking with mine for a few seconds. I watch her drive away until she disappears behind a neighboring house.

Once I've assured she can't be seen from the driveway, I head for the door. It opens quietly for what I swear is the first time and I enter undetected. With two large steps I'm hidden behind the wall dividing the stairs from the living room, but the squeaks of the wood give me away. My feet carry me upstairs and into my room swiftly, spinning on my heel to press the door shut.

"Let's just get this over with. You're ready, right?" I jump, jolting around to face the person the grumbling question came from. My shoulders lose their tension when a slouching Jason raises his hands up to show he won't hurt me.

Shaking my head, a string of curses fall from my lips. Luke is sitting at my desk, head propped on his hand. Jason stands up from my bed with something like impatience. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I just need to call Kira so she can hear what's going on," I say, already pulling out my phone. "She'll be muted."

The first ring doesn't even finish before she picks up, her worried voice cracking through the silent room, "are we good to go?"

"Yeah. Again, no matter what happens I need you to stay where you are." A sigh filters through the phone, but I know she understands.

"Good luck. No one die on me." With that, her end of the call goes silent. Jason, Luke and I all pass worried looks around the room. There's no more delaying or building up. This is it. Jason takes the lead, Luke and I following behind him like ducklings down the stairs. We turn the corner into the living room, lining up in the doorway. Mike is slouched on the couch, his stained shirt clinging tightly to his misshapen stomach. My heart drops in pure dread when I see a white, sugar-like powder lined up carefully on the wooden table. I consider backing out, but what good would that do us?

"The hell do you kids think you're doing," he slurs, slamming his fist down onto the coffee table. I shudder at the sound, flinching slightly. "Go back upstairs!" he bellows, then sniffles breathily.

"No."

I don't even register my voice until he shoots up from his spot on the couch. He's in my face in a moment, screaming words I don't even care to hear. Clammy hands push me backwards into the kitchen and his next words finally catch my attention. "And that girl of yours, you don't deserve her. I thought I raised you better than to date some bitch like her." His snarling makes my hate burn brighter. Before I can react, however, a forceful punch connects with my jaw and nearly knocks me to the ground. A hard kick strikes me in the ribs and my phone clatters to the floor alongside my weak body.