He looks at me with his large brown eyes and I see the regret in them. The sadness. The pity.
“I’m sorry.” he says earnestly. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
Tears sting my eyes and I can’t stand it. I leap up, grabbing my sleeping bag.
“You already said that. It didn’t change anything then and it certainly doesn’t change anything now. I’m going to the roof to get some sleep and in the morning when I come back down I expect you to be gone. Take what you want with you, I can’t carry all of it out and it will save you and your boys some trouble later when you loot the place.”
I turn to leave. I hear him hurriedly stand up behind me.
“Joss, wait.”
“Stop saying my name!” I cry, my voice cracking and I hate myself for it. For being weak, for being cruel, for being so, so, so angry. Angrier than I ever realized I was but with him here now I can feel it. I can nearly taste it. I take a deep shuddering breath, willing the tears back. I haven’t cried in years and I can’t start now. I’ll be like an addict taking a hit of heroine for the first time in a decade. I’ll never be able to stop. When I speak, I will my voice to be even and calm. “Just go, please. It’s almost dawn. You’ll be alright. Take a weapon with you. Or two or five, whatever. Take anything, but please just go.”
“I’ll go.” he answers, his voice deep and low. “I’m leaving.”
I nod, my back still to him. “Good. That’s good.”
“Just promise me something. One thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t leave. Please trust me when I tell you that I won’t ever tell anyone you’re here. I’ll never tell anyone about you at all. Just don’t go. I can’t stand the thought of you having to start over.”
I don’t respond. I don’t have words, not any which are true. So I duck my head down, feel the angry heat of a single tear on my cheek and I climb the stairs to the roof.
I don’t sleep. I also don’t hear him leave but I know he’s gone. He’s quiet as a mouse, quieter even than me, and it’s no surprise that he could slip out without being heard. My world slips back into place, back into the gray numb of pure survival that it’s been in for the last however many years. Maybe all of them. Maybe since Christmas and my Cabbage Patch Doll. Since the end of everything.
When dawn comes I creep back into the loft but it’s not my home anymore. Mentally I’ve already moved out. I’m trying to decide where I’m going to go, which part of town I should try to find shelter in or if I should cut my loses and finally take the plunge and move into the woods. That’s when I see the writing on the wall.
“Oh my God.” I breathe, my hand against my mouth.
He’s given me his address. It’s his toothbrush, his underwear, the key to his diary all wrapped up into one. His crew, if they knew, would beat his ass and throw him out on the streets for this. This is a dangerous thing he’s done. I search the room, looking for a rag to wipe it clean with. I can’t leave it here. Anyone who finds it will know right where they live. I can’t believe he left this!
I see the red brick lying on the ground beside the gray cement wall. This is what he wrote it with. He used the edge like chalk. I grab the brick and prepare to scrape the words out, to draw over them until they are unrecognizable. But I freeze, my hand holding the stone hovering over his writing.
He gave up all he could to try and make us square. To try and make me stay.
I look around the room to do a quick inventory. It’s all here. Everything. Even the tire iron he used to fight with last night. He didn’t take anything to help him get home and that realization makes my gut clench with guilt. I’m worried he might not have made it home last night. I’m sure he left immediately after I asked him to which means he left in the dark. In an unfamiliar neighborhood. With only a knife and a huge gaping wound on his hand.
“Son of a—“
I drop the brick and grab my coat, throwing it on as I pocket my ASP and sheath my knife on my hip. I quickly whip open the door and blindly run into the hall.
I should have looked both ways.
I immediately trip and fall flat on my face.
“Owwww.” I groan, clutching my elbow.
“Are you alright?” Ryan asks, reaching out for me.
I roll away from him onto my back and clutch my arm to me, riding out the crazy weird tingles and shocks passing through it.
“I hit my funny bone and it wasn’t funny.” I moan. I kick my foot at him and catch him in the hip.
“Ah, what!?” he cries, scooting away. He grabs hold of my foot as it comes back for more.
“You tripped me! Can you even function without screwing with my life?”
“Actually, you stepped on me and fell. I’m more the victim here than you are.”
I kick vainly at him again. “Why are you lying on the floor in my hallway?”
“Because I couldn’t lock the door.”
I lift my head up and stare at him. “What?”
“Your door, it only locks from the inside. I went to leave and realized I’d be leaving you defenseless but you wanted me gone so I camped out here. I was going to go once I heard you moving around inside but I fell asleep.” He picks up a chunk of rotted out carpet and chucks it at me. “Then you stepped on me and started kicking me. So, you know, you’re welcome.”
I sit up, still cradling my angry arm. “Is that really your address? That’s where your gang lives.”
“No, I lied for the hell of it. Yes, it’s where we live.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask incredulously. “That is so dangerous to put that out there like that. And not just for you, for all of them.”
“I know. That’s why I told you. I knew you’d understand.”
“Understand what? That you can’t be trusted?”
He frowns. “Wait, what?”
“They trust you to keep that information on lock and you go writing it on walls in random rooms across town? You knowing where I live, that’s one thing. But putting it out for the world where your entire crew lives, that’s crazy. And reckless. And so stupid.”
“You’re missing the point. We’re square. Now you don’t have to move.”
“No, I still have to move. But thanks, now I know what part of town to stay away from.”
“No, you don’t move. That’s why—How are you not getting this?!”
“Oh, I get it. You make terrible decisions. That’s what I’m getting.”
He pauses then puts his hand up, silencing me. “Hold up. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“What?”
“You. You came slamming out of the apartment without even glancing in the hall or you would have seen me lying here. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
I don’t answer but I don’t look away either. I hold his stare, keeping my face impassive.
He grins. “You were going after me, weren’t you?”
“I was coming to look for your corpse.”
His grin becomes a smile. “You were worried about me.”
“No. Kind of. You didn’t arm yourself before you left and I didn’t want that on my head so, yes, I was going to look for you to make sure you were alright.”
“That’s nice of you.”
I roll my eyes and look down the long ugly hallway. Anywhere but at him.
“I’m not a complete bitch.” I mumble.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”