Cruel Kisses: It’s Just High School #2

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  “What?” I demand, somehow knowing that it’s Mia’s car he’s talking about.

  “Don’t you dare ‘what’ me!” Nathan shouts. “You think they wouldn’t find it? You think they wouldn’t find what you did?”

  “What in the world are you talking about, Nathan.” Nicky demands, stepping in, a worried look on her face. Nathan turns to look at Nicky, regarding her with a stare that makes her take a step back. Liam’s eyebrow rises, watching the exchange.

  “You! You think you can take away what’s mine?” Nathan spits, stumbling over to her but I block him, pushing him backward. “You have no rights! You’re nothing but a whore. Spreading your legs for this devil and now my child is doing the same thing because of you!”

  “Nathan, please,” Nicky cries, her voice shaky. “You said they found her car? Where?”

  “Yes, out on Route 66 which means they drove her out of town only to ambush her!”

  The fuck? Route 66? Why would Mia even go there?

  “They found her abandoned car by the side of the road, like someone was chasing her and knocked her car off the road.”

  “What?” Nicky cries, but again that high-pitched tone is back.

  “Save me your cheap theatrics! You knew what these boys were doing to my daughter. You knew they would take her against her will.”

  What the actual fuck is this? A sinking feeling takes root in my stomach as I stare at Nathan, unable to look away at the chilling look in his eyes.

  “Now you hold on just a minute,” Courtney starts, her voice a low seethe, taking several steps until she’s in Nathan’s face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, but I think I do, and you know it. Your sons did something to my daughter. They found blood stains in that car, a busted-out window, the trunk was open and her shoes were scattered about the scene. What the fuck does that show you, your highness, Courtney?”

  It shows that she put up one hell of a fight. But against who?

  “It shows us nothing! My sons had nothing to do with this,” Courtney fires back.

  “Really? You better pray to whichever god will hear your shit, Courtney, because mark my fucking words, your days are numbered.”

  “Get out!” Dad shouts now, the vicious look on his face registering somewhere in my mind, but I don’t dwell on that.

  They found her car abandoned on Route 66.

  Stains of blood.

  A busted-out window.

  She put up one hell of a fight.

  Who would do that? Fuck, it could be anyone.

  “Matthews,” Cole mutters and I snap my head up to look at him. Liam also heard him, but he doesn’t react the way I thought he would. He knows something.

  “Get out of my house and the next time you set foot on my property, Nathan I swear to God, I will blow your life up,” Courtney seethes.

  “Are you going to stand there, defending this imbecile?” Nathan says with a scoff, then he throws his head back and starts laughing, hard. “He never loved you. He was only using you!”

  “Get out!” Courtney demands.

  “You should want more out of life, Courtney!” Nathans taunts. “You were just a contract, a piece of expensive, yet still cheap, paper. And now, look where that got you. How pathetic.”

  Liam and Cole stare at Nathan with wide eyes. Shit, I haven’t told them what I know. But admitting to them that Courtney and John’s marriage was a contract thing will reveal another thing that will hurt my brother.

  I need to first find a way to stop that shit from happening, before telling him.

  “That’s enough of your drunken rants!” Dad says and marches over to Nathan, grabs him by the collar and starts dragging him down the hall, toward the front door.

  “If you know what’s good for you, John, you’d let me go right now,” Nathan shouts.

  “No, you and me are way past that shit,” dad growls, throwing the door open with one hand. Then he faces Nathan, a thunderous look on his face. “Remember what I told you? Ruining your stupid career? That was child’s play to what I can fucking do, and you know it?”

  “You think I don’t know about your illegal shit?” Nathan spits, his face covered in blood. “I know all the shit you do.”

  “Do you, now?” Dad counters, his voice so damn low and threatening, I can see Nathan’s eyes widening.

  “You’re going down! I’ve already taken shit from you and I’ll keep winning.”

  “Yeah well, when you finally realize that you’re nothing to me, that you’re not my brother, that everything I am is because of me, that my mother was good and that your vermin killed her, you’ll fucking realize that you are nothing to me,” Dad growls. “Your threats mean nothing to me. You are nothing.”

  And with that, he literally throws Nathan out like yesterday’s trash and shuts the door behind him with a loud bang that reverberates through the house.

  We all stand there looking at him when he turns around, with a murderous look on his face. He’s breathing hard, his temple is bleeding and as I look at him, a single thought crosses my mind.

  My father is a broken man.

  I glance at Cole and he quirks an eyebrow. I’m not the only one who feels like there’s something more going on here.

  Dad turns around and looks at Nicky then at his not so ex-wife. I step back and watch the silent tense exchange between them, then without another word, John walks back down the hall and into his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Then we hear the lock next.

  Courtney is tense and silent for a minute, just standing there and we watch her. She looks between us then notices Nicky standing in the corner, her body trembling and she walks over to her with a narrowed gaze.

  “I have no idea what game you’re playing here,” she mutters, her voice deliberately low but it’s fucking pointless, genius. We’re all in the foyer, voices carry in here.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nicky denies, a hard look in her eyes.

  “Oh, I think you do,” Courtney says. “Game recognizes game and you and the daughter you threw away…”

  “Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, so now, after four days with the shitstorm going on with your family, you’re now realizing that she’s gone?” Liam starts, not bothering to look at his mother as he says that.

  “Yes!” Nicky cries. “In case none of you have noticed, my sister is dead! The woman who practically raised me and Mia is dead. So, forgive me if I’ve been pre-occupied.”

  Courtney doesn’t say anything to that, but she does back-off. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry about Nancy.”

  “You can keep your half-felt condolence to yourself,” Nicky says. “As a matter of fact, I think you can go…”

  A loud, strange sound rings clear in the foyer, cutting off whatever insult Nicky wanted to say.

  “What the hell is that?” Liam demands.

  “Uh, it’s my phone,” Nicky admits, looking slightly uncomfortable, and doesn’t look anyone in the eye.

  A phone? That rings like that?

  It sounds like one of those old Nokia brick phones. Why does she have that? Nicky turns around and disappears up the stairs, the sound of the ringing phone fading. I’ve seen her phone though, it’s a smart phone. So why does she have that kind of phone?

  “Uh,” Courtney starts, clearing her throat. “I think I’ll take my leave now.”

  “Don’t let the door hit and abuse you on your way out,” Liam grits out, looking down at his phone.

  “Liam…”

  “Just go,” I say, cutting her off. It doesn’t take her long to get the message. She grabs her bag and leaves, the door closing softly behind her.

  This is just fucking great.

  “Fuck, we need to get to Route 66,” Liam says, jarring me back to reality. “We need to see that damn car.”

  “I agree,” Cole says. “If the police are involved with this then
it means they’re running an investigation.”

  Oh, shit

  “Which means there’s a missing person’s report,” I say, my mind racing. “The Matthews brothers?”

  “It isn’t them,” Liam says. “I know you started with those assholes when you went out looking for Mia.”

  “Yeah but the thing is, they now know that she’s gone. They might go after her,” Cole explains.

  I don’t want to think about that. Not for my sake, but for those two shitheads and what I might do to them if they ever look at Mia.

  “But also, what the hell just happened here?” Liam questions no one in particular.

  Cole shakes his head. “There are secrets here that run deeper than still waters.”

  I agree with that shit.

  “What should we do about that?” Liam questions.

  “I think we should…” I start but Liam cuts me off.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” he says, his eyes narrowed on me. “You’ve done enough.”

  The way he looks at me, his eyes filled with hurt and accusation is like a punch to the gut that makes the throbbing of my jaw pale in comparison. I don’t know what to say here. Liam has never been this furious with me.

  “Liam…” I start, needing to explain but I don’t know what to say. She left because of me, that much I’m sure, I put the final nail in the coffin. So, do I apologized for that? Do I apologize for loving her? For choosing her? For making her mine?

  “That man was wrong for abandoning Mia and honestly, he’s a shitty father but he’s right about one thing, you should’ve never touched her! Now, you broke her enough that she ran.”

  That makes me so fucking angry for some reason, but I clamp my jaw tight.

  “You don’t fucking know what happened, Liam so mind your fucking business.”

  Liam laughs, but it’s bitter and makes me cringe internally. “No, it’s my business because Mia, she’s different. She genuinely cared for me even when you discouraged her to.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah and I’ll find her.”

  He says that like he knows something. Maybe he does.

  “I know you were looking at the footage from the other night,” I start, my voice menacingly low. “I know you’re looking for her and I know you know something.”

  “And if I do?” he counters. “You obviously don’t know anything.”

  “Liam…”

  “Apologize.”

  “What the fuck for?”

  “If you have to ask, then fuck you!” He shoulder-checks me and is out the door. Fuck this shit.

  “That really could’ve gone better than that,” Cole says then whistles, following safter Liam. “I’m going to check this shit out and call you, then I’m going over to Steph’s to get my dick sucked.”

  “You’re telling me like I’m your fucking housewife or something.”

  “At the rate you’re going, bunking our football workout, being a jerk, you might as well hold on to the fact that five, ten years down the line, I’m going to need someone to make me hot dinner when I get back home after my games.”

  “Bro, fuck you too.”

  He just whistles louder and leaves.

  Good, now I need to deal with Nicky. But judging from how my mother just went at her throat, her guard is definitely up. Which means I have to go about this the right way.

  So, I head to dad’s office, taking out my phone.

  The door’s locked and there’s no way I’m knocking. I’ve never knocked on his fucking office door all my life, I’m not about to start now so I text him.

  What’s the number of that guy you use?

  Dad: Stay out of this.

  She’s mine. I won’t ask you twice.

  I wait for a few seconds, but he does come through with the number and another text.

  Dad: He’s out for blood.

  You mean your brother?

  Dad: That man IS NOT my brother. Stop annoying me, Julian, I’m not in the mood unless you want to get behind these fists.

  Ease up, grandpa. Nobody’s trying to fight you after that shit.

  I turn around and head for my room upstairs, dialing the number he just gave me.

  “Yes?” the voice answers.

  “John Fitzgerald gave me your number.”

  “Yes, you must be his son.”

  Shit, dad already talked to him that I’d call. Good.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to find a number.”

  “What do you have to go on.”

  “I know that it’s probably a pre-paid phone, bought maybe four days ago with cash.”

  I’m going to find you, Little Minx.

  13

  When I wake up, I find myself laying on the bathroom floor, my head spinning.

  My eyes are blurry for a few seconds. My mouth is dry, like I swallowed a desert. Did I drink last night? I feel terrible.

  What happened? Sunlight filters in through the windows, which means it’s probably mid-morning or early afternoon. Wait, mid-morning? That can’t be right. The last thing I remember is going to bed. I was in bed, under the covers to be precise. How did I get in here?

  But it’s when I go to sit up that I feel the pin prick of pain.

  I glance down and almost scream when I see it.

  There’s blood on the tiles. The broken flower vase at the base of the cabinet, the fragments scattered everywhere. But then there is one of the fragments, thick and now coated in red… like in my nightmares only this time, this is real.

  I slashed both my wrists.

  “Oh God.”

  Cold shivers start going through me. All concept of time and meaning escape me, thrusting me into a cold, dark, empty vortex where my mind can’t tell what’s real or what isn’t anymore, it all just runs together.

  The pain.

  The emptiness.

  The grief.

  But what was happening inside me wasn’t grief, although the rest of the world seemed to have been all about that grief life, crying over a woman none of them knew.

  I was firmly between the undrawn lines of aching denial and anger. Or at least that’s what I thought as some hours of the day, unwanted tears just randomly start running down my cheeks, then other hours I’m filled with so much anger, I can hardly see straight.

  I was angry at the world, angry at Nicky for hiding so much shit from me. Angry at myself for not having anyone and for allowing people into my heart that destroyed it instead.

  But mostly, I was angry at the dead, which was stupid really. It’s not like Nancy was going to suddenly wake up after the red curtain re-opens to take her final bow for the shit she managed to pull right under my nose.

  Sleeping with John—who so happened to be her husband’s stepbrother. I’m still reeling about that.

  Silently, I grit my teeth and get up, ignoring the slight burning sensation from my wrists and arms.

  If I’m awake by myself, it probably means the cuts aren’t deep, but I did lose a bit of blood.

  “Why, Mia?” I mumble to myself. Why would I do this to myself? I almost scoff because the answer is simple. I managed to sleep. Which is something I can’t say for the other nights before.

  Pretending like the cuts aren’t there, I open and close the bathroom drawers, then find the first-aid kit. As I tend to the cuts, an unbridled memory flits through my mind of Julian tending to the self-inflicted cut in my palm a forever ago.

  Forget him. He isn’t here now. You’re all you have now.

  Continuing on in that mindless state of numbness, I take a shower, standing under the spray, unable to feel how hot the water is. I just stand there and stare blankly at the wall, then force myself to actually wash my body but, what’s the point?

  What’s the point of all this? How do you go on in a world filled with secrets, lies, and suppressed memories?

  Nauseated, I can feel tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at the cuts crisscrossing each of my wrists. As if I did
this when I wasn’t fully conscious.

  Each night I’m plagued by nightmares and demons haunting me, and my God, I miss home so much, I’m in pain constantly.

  But I can’t go home because I don’t have a home.

  Quickly getting out of the shower, I rummage through the clothes I have and thank God for the long-sleeved t-shirt I threw in there. I wear that and a pair of black skinny jeans, then leave my hair to air-dry as I grab the remote and switch on the TV to find out more about the funeral.

  Imagine that, having to get updates about your own mother—for all intents and purposes—on TV.

  That anger starts warming my belly like a little flame until it becomes full blown inferno when I see that people all over the world have started tribute memorials, placing flowers, pictures and some other nonsensical shit in the street in honor of Nancy Montague.

  They all look sad, like they are the ones who lost a mother. Like they lost more than that.

  I make a grab for the charging phone and dial the only number there. It rings and rings until I cut and then call again.

  “Mia, stop calling!” she answers in a huff.

  “I’m really sorry for calling at the most inconvenient time for you, did you almost get caught snooping around a house that’s not yours, talking to me?” I say sarcastically.

  “Mia, this isn’t funny.”

  “No, what isn’t funny is not being at my mother’s funeral.”

  I know whenever I refer to Nancy as my mother, it hurts Nicky, which is my goal. I’m particularly nasty today, especially after what I did to myself, so she might as well receive the brunt of it.

  “We talked about this and I know you’re frustrated but I also know you’ve been lying to me?”

  I pause.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you were on your way to Chicago four days ago, that you were going to seek out your old friend, Rye, you remember her.”

  “I know what I said,” I mutter, biting my lower lip.

  “Yeah well, Rye’s mother is in town. She told me that her daughter is in Paris right now.”

  She doesn’t have to say anything else. I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “Nicky…”

  “No, you listen to me. You want a reason why you have to actually take your own life seriously?” she whispers hotly. “You want to know why your father should never find you? Well, you were four years old the first time it happened.”