I can’t believe they hurt him.
Guilt churns in my stomach, more powerful than any rage I can feel. This is my fault. I should’ve listened to them. I could have stopped this.
“Miss Royal?” The officer calls my name, and I shake my head, pulling myself from my thoughts.
“Sorry, Officer, this is a lot.”
“Sure, I can imagine. Do you know if anything was taken?”
I shake my head again, clasping my arms around my waist, holding myself tight. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. I went straight into the kitchen and found Smithy… sorry, James.”
Just saying the words makes me feel cold. How is this my life?
“That's understandable, are you okay to walk through with me quickly before you leave for the hospital?”
I find myself nodding before I start walking him through the house. The main floor is completely destroyed. Anything that wasn’t bolted down has been thrown or smashed. The contents of the kitchen are spilled over the counters and floors. We head down the stairs to the basement, and I choke back a sob when I see the music room.
The place that was my dad's sanctuary, it’s… almost unsalvageable. The smell of urine makes me gag, and I leave, unable to look at it anymore.
Finally, we head upstairs, and I find much of the same. More destruction. My clothes aren’t shredded this time, but they are strewn across the room. The only things left alone are my dad's guitars hanging on my wall.
I nearly fall to my knees as relief floods me in waves.
“Everything seems to be accounted for, but I can go through more thoroughly later once I’ve been to the hospital. Is that okay?” I say to the officer, my voice thick with emotion. This has been one hell of a day, and it's not even eight in the morning yet.
* * *
My week has been a clusterfuck, but I refuse not to let today be a good day. Smithy was released from the hospital last night. He had a slight concussion, but other than that, the cut was his only wound. Though if you ask him, his pride was wounded more. The doctors wanted him to stay overnight, but the man is stubborn as a mule. So I ended up bringing him home.
While we were waiting for the doctors to finish their tests, I called in a cleaning company to sort out what could be salvaged from the house and throw away anything that couldn’t. It’s just stuff. It can be replaced, and besides, I didn’t want Smithy going home to that madness.
When I asked him who attacked him, he said there were five thugs but that he didn’t recognize them because they were wearing masks and gloves. Which I guess makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why my wall of guitars was left untouched or why nothing was actually taken.
It hurts my head just to try and make sense of it all. I can’t help but hope it wasn’t Lincoln and the others. Surely they wouldn’t hurt Smithy. But who else would leave that note?
I pushed him a little harder on the drive home, but he didn’t have anything else to say. I get it, he was tired, and he’d answered all the police’s questions as well as mine, but he doesn’t seem… angry enough about it? Maybe that's just my response to everything these days.
Then this morning, he demanded that I go to school despite everything that happened, so I made him promise to take it easy. It took some doing, but I threatened to have Pattie come and check on him if he didn’t behave. I’m not entirely sure why those two hate each other so much, but it worked, so I’m going to take the win.
Lincoln, Maverick, and Finley are suspiciously absent from school, which has the gossip mill all aflutter. Luckily, it means I’ve actually been able to relax—the thought of confronting them about what happened to Smithy fills me with anger and fear at the same time. I hate that the fear is there, especially when I’ve never been the kind of girl to cower, but something about those three and what they’re capable of… It puts me on edge. Catty pettiness from Blair and her girls I can cope with, but the boys… They know me so much better than anyone else here.
They know the real ways to hurt me if they want to.
And for some reason, they seem to want to.
So a day without them here is a good day, and I haven’t let it go to waste. Even circuits in Gym isn’t getting me down. Though that could be because Indi, the sunshine child extraordinaire, has done nothing but bitch and whine as we’ve worked the course together, and it gives me such life.
“If I do another squat, my thighs are going to explode,” she complains, and I can’t help but grin as I finish my round of burpees before sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Want to swap? I will happily do your squat set if you want my burpees.”
“Not on your fucking life, my friend,” she practically hisses, and it makes me laugh out loud. She looks like she’s ready to collapse by the time East blows his whistle, calling an end to the lesson before the bell actually goes off.
“Thank fucking Christ for that. I hate Gym. Exercise is not for everybody. This body of mine was made for coffee, chips, and pizza. Not exercise.” She leans against the wall while I climb to my feet.
“I so feel that.”
“You have much going on tonight?”