Smash!

•T H I R T Y•

Jamie's POV

"Battery and assault." Stunned, I barely voice my astonishment into a coherent sentence from the dark backseat of Riley's old car. I rest my red head against the car window, the chill of the glass feeling good against my freckled forehead, while my green eyes stare down the bar till it disappears into the distance. As Riley bullets the car at a street corner, the shrillness of police sirens reach my ears, but fade away just as fast as I heard it.

I feel like I should be livid. Yet, I can't bring myself to be. Did Robin and Riley attack somebody tonight? Or did they silence an abuser?

In this state, unless the victim presses charges, there's no legal way for any other party to intervene. But Riley and Robin did find a way - an illegal assault way.

The sicking sound of glass breaking over flesh is just as loud in my head as the man's screaming. Every time I blink, I can picture the terrified look on that battered woman's bruised face, and how she gave Robin and Riley the same look. She obviously didn't see heroes, but people just as violent as her abuser.

My green eyes catch Riley's brown ones in the rear view mirror, yet we say nothing. Neither of us can find any words of comfort, or reassurance to spare. Probably because there are none to offer that'll make any of this any better.

Robin is uncharacteristically quiet and still in the passenger seat. Her usual smirk is nowhere to be found. The mischievous spark is missing from her blue eyes as she glares out the windshield.

"Are you two okay?" Riley finally breaks the silence after a few miles. Robin and I barely nod. I'm not sure either of us mean it.

"Are you?" I mouthed at him through the mirror, not finding enough strength to be alright off the back. It was a violent ordeal, one that Riley and Robin were apart of, and leaves an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I will be." He mumbles unconvincingly.

"Pull over there." Robin speaks up, pointing at a small convenience store with a bright open sign in the window. Doing what he was told, Riley pulls into the very last spot of the parking lot. We shakily climb out of the old blue car. That's when I notice it. Riley clutches his fist to his chest, the knuckles looking more crooked than usual, and a nasty purple color.

Riley and I wait outside by the glow of the neon sighs in the windows and by the smokers for Robin. I'm not sure how we find ourselves sitting on concrete, with our backs against the brick of the little store, maybe our legs gave out, who knows. The vass starless night sky looks bleak and ominous above our heads, the blueness reminding us how little we are, and how cops at the scene of a bar fight are not that far away.

I feel a hand enclose around mine, the touch making realize how cold I am. I give Riley's good hand a squeeze, catching his worried gaze. "I'm sorry you had to be a part of that."

Now I realize I could be associated with this. The cops could be looking for all three of us. Doesn't matter that I didn't do anything, I pulled an escape with the people who did.

A month ago, this wouldn't be happening. I would be at home, safe in my bed, with a cup of tea to keep me warm. I wouldn't be laying low from police on a cold concrete curb after bar fights.

I'm not sure what to say, probably because I'm not sure if they did the right thing or not. So I don't say anything at all.

"Do you hate me?" Riley fails to come off as jokingly. "Scared of me?"

"No," I shake my head. "I don't think I can."

"You should." He scuffs, unsuccessfully trying to uncurl his swollen fist. I give his hand good another squeeze, silently telling him I won't ever hate him.