The switchblade that I had taken from a girl and was fighting with dropped from my hand and clattered to the ground, dropping onto the pavement and sounding like a bomb in the silent street. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. I was paralyzed; unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to even think.
And then they ran. The Columbus gang scattered, running in all directions. The faceless boy with the gun disappeared back into the shadows and it was like he was never there at all. All that was left were the ten of us, standing in a circle around Elle, who lay motionless on the ground.
She lay in a pool of light cast by the dim streetlight above us, and it reminded me of when the Columbus girl had been killed, all those nights ago. That was what had started all this.
Elle's auburn hair was splayed out around her head on the ground. Her legs were bent slightly in her black jeans and her varsity jacket was open, revealing her white tank top with a large, dark spreading stain under her ribs. Her arms lay flung out to the sides, fingers clenched. Her skin was white and her shining eyes remained open for a few seconds before fluttering closed, gently and slowly like in a movie.
Christina dropped to the ground next to her, shaking her and crying. "Elle!" She yelled. "Wake up, Ellie!" I was breathing hard and shaking.
"She's just a girl!" Derek screamed into the night.
"Oh my god." Gemma said, shaking and crying next to me. She grabbed my hand tightly. "Oh my god." She repeated. I suddenly wanted to hit her, because saying 'oh my god' won't help. Nothing will help. I wanted to scream and yell and hit someone. I wanted to hurt someone.
"Ellie!" Gemma cried, dropping to the ground next to her, grabbing her cold hand and shaking it. "Damn it, Ellie, please!"
"She's gone." Liam said quietly. He was holding Lacie, who was crying and staring at Elle's body. He held her tightly in his strong arms and I wanted to hurt him too.
I couldn't take my eyes off of Elle's face. This is never how she would want to die. I thought. Elle always hated fighting. Elle was sweet and funny and happy and innocent and naive. To die this way, violently by the hand of an angry kid, was ironic in the most terrible way. Anger filled me, the kind of anger that makes you hate everything, even the people you love. The kind of anger that makes you want to hurt people, to kill them, and not feel any regret.
We stood in a circle around her, as if to protect her from the night, our long shadows lying across the dimly lit pavement. Christina and Gemma were huddled next to Elle's bloody body on the ground.
"Fucking evil..." Liam said, and I could see his dark eyes shining with tears. "She's just a girl!" His angry voice rang out throughout the silent street.
I realized my hands were shaking and I couldn't breathe. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Or a drug overdose?
Carter was swearing and yelling in anger. The night air around me was heavy and black and thick, and it was choking and strangling me, getting caught in my lungs and strangling me slowly.
I turned and ran. My feet pounded on the slick, hard pavement.
I heard voices calling behind me and I shut them out, focusing only on the street, my feet hitting the ground, running somewhere.
I ran through the dark streets, stumbling over garbage cans and curbs, past the bright lights of the gas station and restaurants, the garish neon lights of liqueur stores and supermarkets. I didn't know where I was going. Anger still pumped through my veins. It was liquid shock fueling me. I came to a stop when my legs couldn't hold me anymore and stood in the middle of the sidewalk outside a gas station. There were a few people around. A young woman with frizzy blond hair was dragging a small whining child out of the market next door. A man stood pumping gas. They were so stupid and clueless. How can people go on with their lives and just not know that an innocent sixteen year old girl is lying dead in a street just a few blocks away?
I walked behind the gas station, hands in my pockets, before my walk turned into a jog, and that into a sprint. I ran again until I felt like throwing up and realized I was in the depths of the worst part of the West Side. Buildings with boarded up windows and barred doors surrounded me, burying me in the darkness. I found a pile of discarded, cracked bricks and picked one up, feeling the rough, heavy square in my hand before swinging back and pitching it in the window of an abandoned house. I listened to the smashing of glass and felt a twisted sort of justification.
Fuck the cops. I was going to smash every damn window I could find and walk straight through the broken glass like a soldier. Because people like destroying things so much. I could destroy things to.
I threw another brick at a large pane of glass and watched it crack and break, the crystal drops falling to the hard dirt ground below.
I smashed every goddamn window on that dead, abandoned street, and when I was done I walked on through the dark streets, through the broken glass and discarded cigarettes and litter. I barely started to notice when it started pouring rain.
Words kept echoing through my head. Certain words, ones that I had heard before that I now understood.
Fear doesn't shut you down. It wakes you up.
And I knew where I needed to go.
***
As soon as I knocked on the door, it swung open and Tom was there, in jeans and no shirt and a bottle of beer in his hand. He grinned when he saw me.
"Hey, babe." He grinned. "What's up?"
I didn't move. I stood on the doorstep of his apartment. "Elle's dead." I said blankly. "Danny Frazier shot her."
Tom's eyes widened and I could see his face darken with anger.
"Give me your gun." I said. "Your handgun, give it to me."
He shook his head. "No. I'm not letting you go kill someone tonight. Alex, come inside, babe...it's raining. Elle...what happened? Was there a fight?"
"Give me the goddamn gun, Tom. Now."
"No." Tom said angrily. "Don't you think enough people have died already?"
"I'm not running out to kill anyone." I said, angry. "I want to carry it for protection. Give it to me, now."
I thought he wouldn't, because when Tom says no he usually means it. He hesitated for a second before turning back into his apartment. I heard him open a drawer and rummage through it before coming back to the door.
"Here." He shoved the gun at me. "Don't do anything stupid, Alex."
***
I found my way back to Christina's house in the dark. Why is it that whenever something is wrong, we all go to Christina's house? It's because she always seemed to have all the answers, I guess. She was older. She was smart. She would give us advice and tell us what to do and help.
But now, there were no answers. Nobody had the answers, they simply didn't exist. I opened the door and walked in in my soaking clothes, dripping onto the kitchen floor.
"Alex..." Christina looked up from where she was standing in the living room, hugging Gemma and rocking her back and forth like an injured child. She had a wild, almost animalistic look in her dark eyes. Lacie and Liam sat on the living room couch, clasping hands and crying silently. James sat at the kitchen tale, head in his hands.
I shook my head and went to Christina's bedroom without a word. I curled up in her big, comfy chair and I fell asleep with the handgun hidden in my hoodie because I know what Christina would say if she knew I had it.
