Rider looked up at me, his eyes wide. He lifted his hands. The same dark substance covered his hands. I lurched to the side, pressing my palm against my mouth. Horror slammed into me with the force of a freight train, bowling me over. A million thoughts raced in my head as I looked around. People were gathering, coming out of the nearby row homes. Someone was crying. Screams still tore through the cold air. Everything was rushing around us but standing still at the same time.
I needed to get help. We needed help. I knew what to do. I reached for my phone as I heard sirens wailing. Help was already coming. I twisted back around, and Jayden was now lying on his back. I knew he didn’t move himself, because I saw his eyes. I’d seen eyes like that once before.
They were fixed on nothing, dull and unseeing.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Rider was touching Jayden’s throat and he was shaking his head. The two blurred. I walked around Jayden’s unmoving legs, my steps jerky. I knelt—fell to my knees beside Rider. I placed a trembling hand on his arm. He jerked as his gaze swung to mine.
Someone shouted and the small half circle of people broke apart as a tall form pushed through. Rider shot to his feet as Hector stumbled to a halt.
He took a step back and then doubled over, slamming his hands onto his knees. “No. No. No. That’s not my— No.”
Then Hector sprang forward. Rider wrapped his arms around his waist. “You don’t want to see this, man. You don’t—”
“That’s my brother?” He struggled to get around Rider, voice cracking like a whip. “Man, is that my brother?”
Rider dug in, holding Hector back as he kept shouting, “That’s my brother?” Over and over, he asked and each time it was like hearing the shots pop. “Aw, man, no. No. No! That’s not Jayden. That’s not him. That’s not him on the ground!”
My heart caved in on itself. The blare of the sirens grew closer, drowning out everything except for Hector’s broken, shattered voice, the sound of absolute heartbreak.
* * *
Red. Blue. Red. Blue.
Hours later, and I could still see the flashing, whirling lights. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or closed. I could still see them and the sea of blue uniforms that had swarmed into the street and the parking lot.
Everything had been a blur of questions and faces, and I didn’t know how much time passed. Police asked me questions I couldn’t answer. Then two men in suits were there, asking the same questions. I was separated from Rider, pushed back by the EMTs and then the police. The crowd had thickened, and it took me forever to get back to my car and find my bag. I’d tried calling Rider, but my hands were shaking so badly.
He’d found me, though, stalking out of the crowd. I’d cried out when I saw him and he moved to touch me, his hands hovering on either side of my face, but he didn’t.
“I’ve got to stay with Hector,” he’d said. “Go home and stay there.”
“But—”
“Please, just get away from here. Please,” he said again, his face leached of all color. “Just get away from here. Go home and stay there, okay? I’ll call you when I can.”
My heart had been thundering in my chest. “I don’t want to leave you. Not right now—” I started to look to my left, where yellow tarp had been draped. “I—”
“Don’t look. God, it’s already too late, but don’t look.” He’d shifted, blocking my view. “Please, Mallory. Please get out of here.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do, but he was begging me and I’d never heard Rider beg before, not even when he fell under Mr. Henry’s fists. So I nodded, and Rider had kissed me then, a hard, almost brutal kiss that tasted like anger and fear. When he walked away, I wanted to follow.
But I got in my car and I drove home like he’d begged me to. In a numb daze, I parked my car and grabbed my bag. Feeling like I was walking through sand, I went inside and winced at the familiar, normal noises.
Carl was in the study, to my left, talking on the phone. Chuckling. Living. In the kitchen, I could hear water running.
“Mallory?” Rosa called out. “You didn’t answer my text. Is Rider coming over for dinner?”
A dry, barely audible laugh rasped out my throat. Rosa was trying. She really was, but Rider wasn’t coming over for dinner. I didn’t respond. I dragged myself up the steps. I heard Rosa call my name again, but I kept walking.
Once inside my bedroom, I stopped in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle. I saw everything, but didn’t really see anything. I sat on the edge of the bed, forcing myself to take deep, even breaths as I rubbed my hands on my tights.
Pressing my hands to my face, I covered my eyes and opened my mouth. I screamed but there was no sound. It hurt nonetheless, ripping apart my throat.
I tried to process what just happened, but all I could think about was Jayden walking up to my locker my second day of class. He’d tugged Paige’s braid, called her a ghetto Katniss and then talked to me like he’d known me for years. All I could think about was Jayden in the car the first day of school. I could hear his laugh and if I breathed deeply enough I was sure I could still catch the earthy scent that clung to him.
I wouldn’t see, hear or smell any of that again.