Like To Be You ✓

forty six pt. two

"You." I sneer, clutching his throat tighter. "You were there that night of the Halloween party, weren't you, you fucking creep?"

"Neil, stop⁠-" Tyler's hand coils around my arm, pulling it away from the man's throat, who now I notice, is slowly turning blue. I loosen my grip, but only a little.

The sirens howl in my ear. A second later, red and blue lights flash inside the house.

"Neil, let go of him!" Tyler loops his arm around my chest and yanks me away from the man⁠- the same figure I'd seen lingering among the trees from the top of the library, and then on the Halloween party. Every thing fits⁠- the stocky build, dumbo ears, his short height.

The front door breaks open. Shouts follow.

The man takes a deep breath, then fixes his eyes on me⁠-bright hazel ones that eerily shine in the dark⁠-and strikes.

His knee goes straight into my stomach, and a fist lands somewhere near my already-ringing ear. My cheek stings. He dives for the gun which lies at the top of the stairs⁠, dropped by my mother-

And is promptly stopped by three cops, their torches blazing from the landing of the stairs, their guns trained on us.

"Put your hands up!" They yell. A swarm of officers comes up behind them. Still crouched on the ground, I lift my arms weakly, and they come bounding up the stairs.

"I made the call." I croak, looking at the officer who carefully reaches for the gun and clicks its safety back on. Two others hold the man down as they cuff him.

"Neil!" Mom's arms come around me as she cradles my head. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Talk to me, Neil!"

"I'm fine." I wince, pressing a hand to my stomach. My ribs feel like they've been ripped out and put back in. Who knew getting kneed in the stomach would hurt like a bitch on fire.

"Oh God. Honey!" My mother's attention jumps to Tyler, who's being interrogated.

"What a shitty night it's been." I say, rubbing my bruised cheek.

Sirens and blinking lights fill the street, and it feels exactly like the night Dad was murdered.

x

Tyler's parents are here, and I can't look at them in the eye. Every part of me is telling me it's your fault. If I hadn't asked him to stay the night, he wouldn't have been in danger at all. He could've died tonight, and it all would have been my fault.

I sit tucked in a blanket at the foot of an ambulance, chugging down bottles of water. Shivers wrack through my body every few seconds, and my teeth chatter together. My shirt is sticky with the pungent ointment that's been slathered on my stomach, and a bandage covers my left cheek. A low whine still buzzes behind my ear, but the medic said it would disappear in a day or two.

"Hi, honey." Tyler's mother comes to a stop beside me. I look up, alarmed, the straw of my juice box still in my mouth.

"Hi, Mrs Beckett." I croak out. I try to clear my throat, and it sounds like a failing engine. Mrs Beckett gives me a small smile. It makes me feel horrible. "I'm sorry about tonight." I say. "I put Tyler in danger despite knowing that shit's been- I mean, despite knowing that things haven't, uh, been the best around here. I'm really sorry."

Mrs Beckett gives me a wobbly smile. "I'm just happy that you're both safe."

"Me too." I say, dropping my eyes to my juice box. The thin straw's been chewed down flat, and I wrinkle my nose.