One Night ✔️ Editing

Chapter Twenty-One

10:30 p.m.

Back in the comfort of my room, I lay down, typing away on my laptop as I listened to music. My goal was to try to push the events of dinner far from my mind.

I didn't think I'd ever win with my mother, but voicing my opinion has never made me feel better. My years of being steamrolled over were coming to an end.

"May 18th, 2019

-Because even after the worst, she still stands. She smiles. Walks with her head held high. She pushes through. She now puts herself at the top of her priority list because if the last few weeks have taught her anything, it's that she deserves to be there."

After closing my laptop, I set it aside for the night and slid under my blanket. Still wearing my headphones, I let my eyes drift close and lost myself in the soft instrumental filling my ears.

I slept peacefully for a few hours until a persistent vibrating woke me up. I hated being a light sleeper. But tonight it may have been a good thing.

When I grabbed my phone, I tapped the screen and discovered I had not one but ten missed calls from Joseph. It was 2 a.m. He was absolutely insane if he thought I was going to be up for an adventure at this time of night. But I couldn't lie and say I wasn't relieved to hear from him. Sitting up, I hit redial.

"Joey?"

"Sienna, thank God. Listen, I know it's late, but —"

"Wait, are you okay?" There was a tremor in his voice and through the phone I could hear his labored breaths.

"Can you come outside right now? I- I need you..."

"Yeah, let me slip on some shoes."

"I'll be out front."

My heart thrashed violently against my ribcage. Was he in some kind of trouble? Was he hurt? I needed to know. I threw on my hoodie and nimbly made my way down the stairs.

My hand rested on the doorknob as I was ready to leave, but upon hearing my parents' voice, I froze. Not moving a muscle, I listened closely. It sounded like they were in the kitchen talking. I quietly stepped into my shoes and carefully slipped out into the darkness.

"Joey?" I called out, peering around as my eyes adjusted to the night.

"I'm over here."

I looked to my right and found him sitting on the curb, a lone street light illuminating his figure. Taking a seat next to him, I fidgeted with my hands.

A few minutes passed before any words were spoken; before he even looked at me. But when he did, I warily took in his appearance. His eyes were rimmed with red and heavy bags sat below them. His hair was a disheveled mess, likely from his hands being run through it so often.

When he spoke, the words that left his mouth hit me like a freight train.

"W-what do you mean your dad is in a coma?!"

"When I left your house earlier, my mom told me he'd been shot," Joseph said, somberly. "He was investigating a domestic disturbance. Some lowlife was fighting with his girlfriend, drunk out of his senses. The neighbors eventually called the cops."

His head hung low as he continued.

"He had a gun and wouldn't back down. There was a shootout between the guy and Marshall, my father's partner. My father got caught in the crossfire attempting to get their kid out of the house. The little boy is okay, but..." he trailed off, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, take your time."

"T-the doctors said my father lost a lot of blood and had two cracked ribs. I was only able to see him for a second before he was rushed into surgery. They had to get the bullets out a-and do a transfusion... t-they- he- fuck! I can't lose him."