For the Love of Justice

Chapter Ten | 3AM Thoughts

Stab the body and it heals; stab the heart and that wound lasts a lifetime. - Mineko Iwasaki 

There was only a few moments in my life where I really thought that I could be capable of doing some serious damage to a person. Those moments had been dark places for me, lurking in the corners of my mind when I'd gotten so angry, everything else had just dulled until all I could think about was setting things right, making things okay again.

And if that meant hurting someone in the process, then I could have lived with it, I think.

Who was I furious at right now, as I stared up at the ceiling of my room in the early hours of Thursday morning? Take a guess. It started with S, and ended with asshole. 

Samson, the guy who I thought had my back through thick and thin, was now the one person who had the capability to rile me up past the point of anger. 

Do you know what it was like to have a best friend turn their back on you like he did? To just walk away, when you were going through hell and helping them out, bending over backwards to make sure everyone was looked after, and to have them just back out? 

Imagine being stabbed in the back over and over, piercing that beating organ each and every time. 

I closed my eyes, rolling onto my side as I sighed, trying to get some sleep before day broke. We'd gotten back from the police station late last night after I'd been interrogated fully about the drugs in my locker, and I was physically as well as mentally exhausted. 

But the sleep just wouldn't come. Instead, the recent events kept playing out in my head, making me wish I could stab Samson in the back, just once, to let him know how it feels.

One day earlier 

"Who needs to do homework? You're smart enough to not do your English homework for one night." Jag, ever the persisting little mother fucker, commented casually as we walked out of school after the bell had rung that afternoon. Looking over at Archer in exasperation, he grinned, shrugging, before turning to Jag and giving him a fake punch in the shoulder. 

"I need to go see the coach about the football trials anyway, so I'm going to be ten minutes or so. We've got time for Marley to get his books."

Jag's eyes lit up at the mention of football. "You're going to play here?" 

"Well, if I make the team-"

"Oh, you'll make it." I assured Archer as we stopped walking just outside the entrance of school. "The teams turned to shit in the past year or two, they need someone like you."

"I heard from Regan Cartney that they'd only gotten bad because you quit." Archer replied quickly, eyeing me from his position to my left. "The guy made it sound like you were their left limb or something."

"Don't even try to deny it, Marley." Jag cut in, folding his arms. "Because it's true."

I shook my head before he'd finished talking. "Firstly, the reason why they're losing so much is because their defensive line is lazy, not uncapable. Secondly, and although I might be biased, but Samson isn't the best quarterback we've ever had. Yeah, he's good, but not Archer Lambie good. And thirdly, one player doesn't make up a whole team, okay? Have you never heard of 'there's no' I' in team'?"

"But there's a 'me'." Jag quipped, earning himself another glare. 

"Maybe you should trial again," Archer started almost tentatively, like he thought the suggestion would make me flip my lid or something. Shaking my head when he went to talk again, I looked away from both him and Jag, my eyes running over the remaining students exiting school, talking and laughing and smiling. School had vastly emptied out already, so there was only the last few bunchs of teenagers rushing for their cars.