Burned Ones

Chapter 22

Annabeth.
15 years old.

"You pointed a gun at your dad," Finn said as we sat on my bed after he washed the blood off of his face. "You didn't shoot him."

I dabbed a cotton ball in antiseptic because Finn said he was too much of a baby to put it on himself. "No."

He flinched away from me for a second. "Would you have?"

"No. He's my dad," I admitted, my stomach swirling around on itself as I thought about what I had done to my dad. What I had even threatened to do.

"So?" Finn asked.

"It's..." I paused because Finn didn't know his parents. I started to scratch my nose but stopped as soon as I got a whiff of the cotton ball. How was I supposed to explain that I didn't think I was physically able to shoot my dad because even though he'd done terrible things in and around my life, he was still my dad? How was I supposed to explain that he'd also done terrible things for me? Even seeing Finn tied to a chair and I still couldn't find it in me to hurt my dad in a damaging way. We fought on the training mat sometimes but seriously injure? I wasn't sure I could do that and it made me feel weak. Like I should be stronger, like I should be able to -- but then the feeling of betrayal overtook me because he was my dad. "I don't think you'd understand."

"I guess not," Finn answered easily, like it was no big deal to him and I wondered how much thought in general he gave to parents. "Where were you?"

I pressed the cotton to his face, dabbing along the cuts he had. "Out, trying to do something for my dad." As I put more antiseptic on the cotton ball and pressed it against Finn's jaw, I remembered what he told my uncle he'd do. I figured Finn earned me being honest with him, so I said, "I was with Jay collecting money owed to us."

He cringed and I wasn't sure if he was doing it because of what I said or if his face stung. He asked, "How did that go?"

"The man died."

"Is that where you got this?" His fingers gently brushed along the side of my face, skirting around the small cuts I had from the fight. My mind flashed back to the man kicking my side and shoving me into the wall. To me scrambling up the stairs and unable to breath. To the dead man at my feet.

"Yes," I said, trying to answer as simply as I could to not get caught up in the emotions of it all over again.

Finn made a face again so I removed the cloth and blew lightly on his cheek. "And Jay?" he asked quietly.

"Jay's the one that was with us a second ago."

I added the used cotton ball with my small pile of trash beside my knee and started digging through the first aid kit for butterfly bandages.

"The one that was holding you back," he said in a tone that had me looking up at him. That same flash of fire from earlier came to life in his eyes, despite the smile on his face. "He's your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

He paused for a moment and then asked, "You want one?"

I clenched my jaw and grabbed the band-aids. Quickly, I unwrapped one and put it right on the edge of his hair line where my dad had made him bleed enough that I initially thought he'd need stitches but once it was cleaned up, it didn't look so bad.

I knew where he was going with this. Or, I hoped I knew. I could imagine where he was going with this and I didn't want Finn to volunteer to join the gang, volunteer to be one of the three leaders of the gang, and volunteer to be my boyfriend all in the same night. A man could only dance with death so many ways before the song ended.