83 Days Since

Part 3- Scars

After a mild panic attack where the paisley papered walls of the run-down house closed-in around her, Ziggy tried to leave. She gathered her things quickly, barely hearing the murmur of people speaking all around her, and rushed to the front door. She could smell the stale beer and sweat of the teenagers around her. The night was much colder than the night of the massacre, but the air felt so similar on her skin.

Confusing the goosebumps on her arms for chills, Nick pulled off his new fur-lined bomber jacket and hung it from her shoulders.

"I can drive you home if you want," Nick said, gesturing to the car parked against the sidewalk.

"I'll walk." Ziggy shot back forcefully.

"Ziggy! Ziggy! Do you really want to walk home alone in the middle of the night?" She stopped dead in her tracks. Nick turned the radio dial until he finally heard a song he didn't hate, "Use ta Be My Girl" by the O'Jays. Ziggy rode in silence, staring at the darkness between streetlights.

"I don't know where you live," Nick ventured.

Ziggy didn't turn to look at him as she responded, "Just turn left up here."

"So, how have you been... that's stupid, are you doing..."

"Just stop, Nick."

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say."

"Yeah well, you just missed my house..."

"Oh, shit." Nick immediately stepped on the break and reversed until he came upon a musty yellow house with falling shingles. The mailbox upfront read had been vandalized adding an "e" to "Berman", so the sign read "Beerman".

"Thanks," Ziggy said as she tried to push the heavy door open.

"Wait-" Nick interrupted before she could get out.

"You didn't back me up. Okay, I don't want to talk to you.

"Wait, Ziggy-"

"Wait for what, Nick? You didn't back me up. Everyone in this town thinks I'm crazy. People are saying that I killed my sister. You know. You were there."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't, but I wanted to, Ziggy. I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn't. Please look at me." This time Nick's hands shot up to cup Ziggy's face in his palms.

"Why are you always so full of shit?" She asked honestly curious for the answer. She ripped her face from his hands pulled the cold metal handle of the car door but didn't get out. "Do you really want to be there for me?" She was no longer angry.

"Yes."

Ziggy lifted the bottom hem of her shirt, revealing a sea of thin white scars from multiple stabbings. Nick flinched immediately.

"Tag. You're it. I want to see your scar, too."