Of course, when I enter the station behind Milo and spot Loki sitting in one of the chairs near the front desk, that bit of control kind of slips away.
I throw Milo a dirty look. “You called Loki?”
“I did it for your own good … You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.” He hooks his keys on his beltloop as he approaches Loki, who has his gaze locked on his phone. “And eventually, we would’ve had to call him anyway, since you’re a minor and he’s your guardian.” He presses his lips together, regretting saying the last part.
My chest constricts at the reminder, but I shove that feeling right down. I’m honestly getting tired of this shit. These feelings, I want them gone.
Right as I manage to shut off everything inside me and wipe my expression clean, Loki glances up from his phone. Anger immediately flickers in his eyes as his gaze locks on me.
Unlike me, Loki is fantastic at showing his emotions. Although, just a handful of years ago, he used to be a pothead who could barely hold a job. Now, he’s twenty-two, runs our dad’s bookstore, and is the father to a bunch of teenagers because our parents had no one else to leave guardianship to if they died.
Sometimes, I feel sorry for him, for getting stuck with all of us. And maybe if I were a better person, I’d stop doing such shitty things that stress him out. But, if I stop doing all the shitty things, then I have to feel all the shitty things.
What I really want is for him to just let me go. I’m almost eighteen, almost an adult, and I think it might be time for him to just give up on me. Maybe if I get found guilty for this, it’ll push him to that point.
“Hey, Milo.” Loki rises to his feet, ignoring me. “Sorry about this.” He rubs the back of his neck. “How much trouble is she in? Should I get a lawyer?”
“You say that like I’ve already been proven guilty,” I say. “But I haven’t.”
Loki shakes his head but doesn’t comment on my remark.
“I’m not sure yet,” Milo tells him. “It all depends on if the store owner wants to press charges. You might be able to work out a deal with him. Considering the circumstances, they might be sympathetic. Maybe she can clean up the paint or something.”
Loki bobs his head up and down, flicking a glance at me.
I narrow my eyes at him, silently saying, Don’t you dare use Mom and Dad’s deaths to get me out of this.
“First, we should probably make sure she was captured on video,” Milo adds with a pressing look. “If she isn’t, then there might not even be a case, since the person who called Alexis in wants to remain anonymous.”
My brows furrow. “They do?”
Milo glances at me and nods.
My confusion skyrockets. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea. It’s really kind of strange, considering there’s a reward.”
Yeah, I completely agree, which makes me want to find out who it is. Not that I can think of a way to find that out. I want to, though. Boy, do I want to, especially since Jay was lurking around in that area.
Did that asshole turn me in?
My fingernails dig into my palms, and my body begins to tremble. If he did, I’m going to make him pay. That asshole already took too much away from me. And I’m not that weak girl that he pinned down on the bathroom floor and touched without permission.
At least, I don’t want to be.
I’m not.
I’m stronger now.
Because nothing can get to me.
Because I am Nothing Alexis.
I am After Alexis now.
“Let’s go back to my desk so we can talk about what’s next,” Milo tells Loki, drawing me from my inner rage.
Nodding, Loki follows Milo into a mess of desks buzzing with ringing phones and officers chatting with each other.
When I don’t budge, Loki turns around and signals for me to do the same. He also gives me a look, one that he’s been giving me a lot lately. One that lets me know he believes I did this and that I’m in trouble.
And for a brief moment, I feel guilty.
But then I erase that feeling.
Erase everything.
And become comfortably numb.
For a while anyway.
Nine
Alexis
We spend the next couple hours at the station while Milo tries to find a way to prove I didn’t do this. Unfortunately, the store’s camera ended up catching me not only spray-painting the store but having my meltdown and scraping my palms against the bricks. And the scrapes are still more than visible. While I’m a good liar, once I see the footage, I realize even my best lie isn’t going to get me out of this mess.
Luckily, at least according to Loki and Milo, the store owner isn’t going to press charges, as long as I repaint the outside of his store.
“But I don’t know how to paint a store,” I inform Milo after he tells me the deal the store owner offered.
We’re sitting at his desk, which is really messy and cluttered. It’s weird since he used to be kind of a neat freak. Loki and he had been drinking coffee and talking about old times while we waited to hear about the footage. Once that information came in, the two of them made up a game plan to call up the store owner and see if he’d strike a deal so I wouldn’t get charges pressed against me, which would lead to probation and probably a lot of hours of it, considering how many times I’ve been in trouble.
“Really?” Loki’s brow arches. “Because, from the footage I just saw, you seem like you’re pretty damn capable.”
I bite down on my tongue to avoid snapping at him. “Spray-painting on the side of a building and painting an entire building isn’t the same thing.”
Shaking his head, he picks up his cup of coffee from the desk. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to figure it out, because we’re accepting the deal.” He takes a sip then sets the cup back down. “We’re not doing the whole court thing again. We’ve already done it too much, and I’m already on thin ice with Social Services …” He trails off, his eyes widening, like he didn’t mean for that part to slip out.
Before I can say anything, though, he pushes to his feet. “It’s late. We’re going home.”
He turns to Milo. “Thanks for helping us out with this. I really appreciate it.”
Milo nods, rising to his feet. “Of course.”
They shake hands, and then Loki walks off, not waiting for me, like maybe he doesn’t care if I follow.
And maybe he doesn’t.
I really don’t know at this point.
What I do know is that he’s pissed. No, he’s more than pissed, which means we’re probably going to get into an argument on our way home. And arguments lead to emotions, which makes me want to run out of here and take off.
“Lex,” Milo says quietly before I walk off.
I twist back toward him. “What?”
He glances around then leans toward me. “I don’t know how, but no one’s made the connection from this act of vandalism to the others you’ve done around town, and no one should have a reason to look any deeper into this, just as long as you stay out trouble from now on. But, if you do give someone a reason to look deeper into this and they make the connection, you might end up with a bigger punishment, so just … be careful.”
By be careful, I know he means stop graffitiing shit. And, while I get what he’s saying, the idea of stopping …
Aches deeply in my bones.
“Okay.” The lie burns on my tongue, but I ignore the feeling and walk off, following Loki out the exit doors.
The moment we step outside underneath the stars, panic seizes me.
I’ve been caught, which means, for now, I can’t do the one thing that brought me that sense of peace in this shit-fest of emotions constantly trying to consume me. And with everything going on … I need that, or I don’t think I’m going to be able to breathe.
I should just take off. Run. Leave. It’s not like me being around is doing anyone any good anyway. I make everyone miserable, including m
yself. And with the strict leash that’s about to be put on me, things are only going to get worse.
“Get in the car,” Loki says to me when he notices me lollygagging in the parking lot, staring out at the sidewalk—my escape.
I almost don’t listen to him.
I almost leave.
I bet, deep down, he probably wishes I would just leave without saying anything. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. It wouldn’t be his fault that I left.
Sometimes, I hate that I’m this way. I mean, my older sister Annabella went through a rebellious phase right after our parents died, but she was also in the car accident with them. She had a reason to avoid her emotions, to shut them out. Me? I wasn’t there. I didn’t suffer the trauma. I didn’t even look at them at the funeral. I didn’t see them like that. In fact, I was so high at their funeral that I didn’t even cry. I probably wouldn’t have anyway.
I am dead inside.
Empty. Just like I want to be.
But, what kind of person does that make me?
A dead one.
Yeah, sometimes I wonder if that thought is right. If I’ve metaphorically died. And the truth is, I’m not sure if I care that I did.
Ten
Alexis
I end up getting in the car. I don’t want to, but Loki looks so livid that I legit believe he’ll chase me if I do try to run. And, while he’s kind of out of shape, at least compared to his pre-parenting days, my ass hates running. I rarely do it, except for today when I was running from Masie and Blaine.
Having exhausted my running for the day, I get in the car, and then Loki starts the short drive home.
“Where did you leave your car when Milo picked you up?” he asks as he pulls onto the street without even so much as glancing at me.
“I was actually walking around,” I mutter. “It broke down at Masie’s today.”
“Okay,” he replies in a clipped tone. “Do you want to go get it now and tow it home?”
“Not really,” I mumble. “Masie and I are fighting and I really don’t want to see her.” It’s probably the first truth I’ve uttered in while.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll get one of my friends to help me tow it home tomorrow then.”
I want to say that West was already planning on helping me, but it might be better if Loki and his friend does it. That way, I won’t have to go over to Masie’s. Plus, with everything that’s happened, the reality of the agreement West and I made before Milo picked me up is slowly catching up to me.
Fake date West? What the hell was I thinking? Is that really what I want to do?
I’m not sure.
I’m not sure about anything anymore.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.
Ugly.
Broken.
Hollow.
A mess.
A vandal.
Fake.
Who am I?
I don’t know.
Loki and I sink into silence after that, and the longer it goes on, the more I wonder if maybe he’s not going to say anything further about what happened. I cross my fingers that’s how this is going to go. I should’ve known better because, the moment he parks in our driveway, he shuts off the engine and grips the hell out of the steering wheel.
“Goddammit. Goddammit. Goddammit,” he curses then smacks the steering wheel, startling the hell out of me.
While Loki and I may fight, I’ve never seen him lose his shit like this. It makes guilt twist inside my gut.
“Why do you have to keep doing this shit?” he mutters, clutching the wheel so tightly his knuckles look white in the moonlight trickling through the window.
“Sorry.” I don’t look him in the eye, too afraid of what I’ll see; too afraid of what I’ll feel. Instead, I focus on the rose bushes out in the front yard. The petals are all brown and wilting due to the fact that no one takes care of them. That was always our mom’s thing …
But now she’s dead, too …
“No, you’re not,” Loki mumbles. “If you were, you would’ve stopped doing this shit a long time ago.”
I glance at him and open my mouth to tell him that’s not true, but the lie won’t leave my lips, so I end up saying nothing.
As silence stretches between us again, he shoves open the door. I think he’s just going to get out, but all he does is sit there with the door open.
“I know Mom and Dad not being around has been difficult for you, but you need to remember that it’s been difficult for everyone.” He stares out the window as he speaks, not looking at me. “And, while I made a promise to myself not to worry you guys with adult problems, I’m going to break that rule right now, because it’s the only thing I can think of to maybe get you to stop getting in trouble.” He glances at me then, and I get to see all the worry overflowing from his eyes, which makes that guilt inside me constrict tighter in my gut.
“I wasn’t exaggerating at the police station. If you keep doing stuff like this and getting arrested, Social Services is going to end up taking away Nik. The rest of you are old enough now that they probably won’t take you, but Nik is still young, and with Anna getting arrested in the past and you constantly getting in trouble … I’m just …” He takes a deep breath. “And, while I’m not sure if you even care about that—care about any of us anymore—I need you to. Because, if I lose any of you”—his voice cracks—“and you lose me …” He doesn’t say anything else; just shakes his head and moves to climb out. “I need you to start caring again.” With that, he gets out of the car, leaving me sitting by myself in the darkness.
I wonder if he’s worried that I’ll take off. It’s definitely a risk, but either he doesn’t care or he’s expecting me to do the right thing and come inside.
A part of me still wants to run; take off and sprint into the darkness, letting it swallow me up whole. It’d be easier to do that, to disappear. But his words echo in my mind.
“I need you to start caring again.”
I smash my lips together. It’s been a long time since someone said they love and care about me, since our mom and dad died probably.
“Bye, sweetie. We’ll see you tomorrow.” My mom hugs me as her, my dad, and Anna get ready to go on a road trip to check out some fancy dance school that Anna wants to go to when she graduates.
My older sister loves to dance just as much as I love to paint, so I can understand why she wants to go to school for dancing. One day, I hope to do the same with my art. One day, I hope to become an artist. And I’m trying, but my art teacher has been really pushing me to express my emotions more through my art. I don’t fully understand what she means, though. I thought I was. She said that the paint splatters on the canvas feel generic and unreal, that I need to stain it with my soul. But I thought I was, so now I’m wondering if my soul is generic and unreal.
“Bye,” I mutter to my mom, feeling really gloomy as I replay what my art teacher said about my work yesterday after class.
She pulls back, worry filling her eyes as she looks at me. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie? You seem upset.”
I give a shrug. “I’m just upset about something my art teacher said.”
She offers me a sympathetic look. “How about you and I go out for ice cream and talk about it when I get home tomorrow?”
I nod, already feeling the slightest bit better. “Okay.”
She smiles at me as she backs away and toward the foyer where my dad and Anna are laughing about something. “Love you, sweetie. And just remember, whatever it is that has you feeling gloomy will pass.”
I had nodded, believing her. But she never came home, so we never talked. And I never painted again. And that gloominess stayed.
But one thing did change.
That love that always filled the air, it withered and died, just like the stupid rose bushes in the front yard.
Now Loki’s trying to tell me that part of that love has stayed. But, how? With everything I’ve done, I thought my brothers and sisters woul
d’ve stopped loving me by now. Maybe he’s lying to get me to behave.
I guess it worked, too, because I get out of the car and go inside, trying not to look at those damn dead rose bushes. But they’re all I see.
Dead thorns and petals.
Death everywhere.
Eleven
West
“Dude, where’s your head at?” Holden asks as he lights up a cigarette.
We’re at the skatepark, sitting on some benches beneath a sheltered area where hardly anyone ever goes. I’m sitting backward on the bench with my feet propped up on my skateboard, staring at the purple graffiti on the side of the shelter.
“Nowhere,” I say with a shrug, not wanting to share where my mind is really at.
She once was there, but now she’s lost,
Forgotten in a sea of agony.
But the waves are invisible against the blinding sunlight,
So no one can see the misery.
Not even herself.
— Signed with a Kiss
The words, they strike a nerve. I often feel the same way. Like no one can see the real me against the reflection of the blinding wealth and power my parents have in this town. It’s why my dad will more than likely beat my ass and my mom will go hide in her room, pretending she can’t hear the yelling and the crashing when I get home. Sometimes I wonder what it’d take to bring her out of playing make-believe, if she’d let my father kill me if it meant she didn’t have to face reality.
And what if I fought back? What if I finally just decided to drown in the sea of agony and take my father down with me?
I stare at the writing again, letting the words sink into my soul. I’ve seen similar writings graffitied around downtown with the same signature. I wonder who it is. Whose words I feel so connected to.
I can’t help thinking of the paint I saw on Lex’s shoes, how she got arrested because of it. Could she be the one doing this? She does like to paint.
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 8