Saving Grace

29

The sound of my phone buzzing on my bedside table snapped me into terrible consciousness.

"Hello?"

"Richie?" Grace exclaimed. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you since last night!"

I groaned, stomach knotting painfully beneath the bare skin.

"Grace..."

"Richie?"

I rolled over, wincing as my liver went into nuclear meltdown.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," I mumbled. "Everything's alright."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home. In bed."

"Jesus," she breathed. "Do you know how fucking worried I was about you?"

"I'm sorry, Grace. Really."

"It doesn't matter. What happened? Did you sort it out?"

"I, um, well we met up. I told him what Russo's been doing and he said he'd put an end to it."

Grace paused.

"What do you mean? How?"

"Well, you know."

"What? No, I don't."

"Grace, you know. Like, put an end to it, to... him."

"You don't mean..." She froze. "No, he's not going to kill Jack!"

"Shh," I hissed. "Look, he said it was the only way."

"I said I only wanted him to stop, not die. You bastard; you took out a hit on my ex-boyfriend!"

"Grace, calm down. Listen to me. Nobody will ever know anything. He'll just disappear and everything will go back to normal. We will go back to normal."

"Is that all you think about? Normal? What about me? What about Jack?"

"Well, I thought you wanted things to go back to normal."

"Not if it means someone has to die, Richie."

"Even after everything he's done to you?"

"I love him," she said. "I love him, Richie. I always have. And you, you bastard, you're going to kill him. Fuck off. Just fuck off."

"Grace, please – "

She hung up.

I froze, bit my lip.

"Fuck!"

I pulled back my arm and smashed the phone into the wall, watched it shatter against the hard plaster. God dammit. How had things gotten this messed up? How had I gotten this messed up? Tears began to pool at the edges of my eyelids, salty and bitter and full of awful things, and I felt my stomach churn again. In a split second, a rush of acidic aftermath raced up my throat, burned my mouth and splattered against the hard floorboards, making the air dense with the foul odour of half-digested scotch and cashews. My body trembled, throat burning.

"Brilliant," I said, jaw clenched as I put the pieces of my phone back together.

With the taste of bile coating my tongue, I wiped my mouth and pushed myself to my feet, back hunched and eyes tired as I made my way to the bathroom. Just outside my bedroom door, Scott caught a glimpse of me and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. "I was just coming in with breakfast."

He placed a plate of bacon and eggs on the counter. I smiled bitterly.

"B&E every morning, like clockwork."

"What can I say? I'm a creature of habit. Now, come on, you need to eat."

A gust of wind blew the scent of bacon and melted butter into my face and made me cringe. I couldn't think of anything worse than eating.

"Please," he said.

I looked up at him, felt a twinge of guilt.

"Fine," I muttered, flopping down onto the stool. "Thanks."

I pushed the food around the plate, took a long sip of lemonade.

"Mr Lee called this morning," he said. "He wanted to know if you'd be in class today." I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry, I covered for you – said you had the flu or something."

I smiled half-heartedly.

"Thanks, mate."

"But," Scott continued, "he also shared a few concerns with me. Rich, you've failed your last two assignments."

I groaned.

"For fuck's sake. Why can't he just leave me alone?"

"He's just worried. So am I. Rich, I know these are pretty standard assignments. Nothing you haven't done before. So, I have to ask myself..." Scott hesitated, bit his lip. "Is it Grace?"

"Jesus Chr- "

"Rich, please, I know you love her. I know. And I know she's been going through a tough time lately – "

"Being stalked and terrorised in her own home, yes."

"Right," Scott pressed his lips together. "But the effect she's had on you – you're drunk all the time, you stay out all night, you're always stressed and upset, you've retreated more into yourself than you have in years and now you're failing school. Rich, I know you love her, but you have to ask yourself: is she really good for you?"

"What's it matter, Scott?" I exclaimed, jumping up from the stool. "What's it matter whether she's good for me or not? I love her, and she needs my help. She needs to be protected."

"Then let the police handle it."

"The police aren't handling shit! They take one look and say, 'oops, sorry, nothing we can do here until you've been murdered'."

"She is the now, Richie," Scott pleaded. "But what about ten years from now? You're a smart kid. You could do anything. And your education is your future."

"She is my future! She is everything! Why can't you see that? Tell you what, how about you stop trying to interfere with the people in my life and start worrying about the people in yours?"

I leapt off the stool, stormed down the hallway, and burst through the front door. I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept walking, the rage in me bubbling up and spilling over like a volcano about to erupt.

"Fucking Scott, fucking Lee... can't leave me alone, either of them."

My phone, now cracked but still in operation, buzzed in my pocket.

"Oh what the fuck do you want now, Grace? Calling to hurl insults at me again? Because you can fuck off – "

"Richard."

Godric's low, dangerous voice spoke on the other line. I fell silent.

"Godric?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm, um, at the end of my street."

"I need you to come to Jack Russo's house immediately."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'm afraid we have a problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"Does your girlfriend happen to be in possession of a key to this property?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I could ask. Godric, what's hap – "

"Good. Have her meet us here as soon as possible. Tell her to bring it with her."

"Okay, but Godric?"

"What?"

"What's the problem?"

Godric paused, sighed into the phone.

"It's Russo," he said. "He's gone."

© A.G. Travers 2018