미안해

***

The only thing going through my head as I run is fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

I can barely feel my legs moving, but I can sure as hell feel my heart racing. It's as if I've been dragged to the depths of an ocean, my lungs under the impression that they're going to implode, feeling nothing but cold wrapped around me in an icy fist. I can't breathe. I'm blindly running towards the monsters I feared as a child, but this time I know what they can do.

Somebody is shouting at me but I don't pay them attention. All I'm focused on is getting to that room. I can't let her get hurt, not now.

I scramble to the top of the stairs, not once stopping until I slam into the bedroom door, praying it's unlocked. It's not. I wrench the knob and bang on the door, but I know whatever is happening in there won't be put on pause for me. I groan in frustration. This can't be happening, oh God this isn't happening.

"Hey!" I shout at the door. "Let me in right now!" I clench my fists angrily, hearing small crying from inside the room. My heart has been crushed by the pressure I am under in this cold, pitch black ocean. That's all I can feel. My chest caving in on itself in a sign of defeat.

"Mac, what the hell?" I hear Bryson say from behind me. I turn, seeing him and Logan and Connor Gibson running up the stairs to see what's going on.

"Cole's in there," I tell him as he approaches me. "Somebody's in there with her Bryson and he's hurting her don't you hear?" I shout. Bryson only chuckles at me. I feel my stomach drop and I clench my teeth in anger. Bryson clears the distance between us in a few short steps and throws an arm around my shoulders.

"Look here Tom -" he starts but I shrug his arm off of me, boring my eyes into him.

"Don't call me that." I spit. Bryson looks taken aback. For years it was my nickname. Tom, Tommy, Tom Cat. People called me that both in school and on the field. It was supposed to be something cool, something kind of brotherly. But when Bryson said it just now I wanted to shrink away in repulsion.

Behind the door I hear a soft cry of pain and I feel my chest fold in on itself. Sick. This is sick. I stare hopelessly at the door, trying to block out the visual of what could be happening on the other side. My fists clench, infuriated. What the hell am I doing out here? I should already be in there beating the living shit out of whoever is hurting her. But instead I'm forced to wait - wait - until he comes out.

I scream in frustration and dig my nails into my scalp. What am I supposed to do?! I can't just break down the door, even though I want to. Who knows what kind of shit I'll get from everyone if I do that? I can't go through the window because...

I open my eyes, my fingers loosening on my scalp. The window...

... was open.

My heart thrums against my chest with yet another thought of hope. If I can't get through the door, I can at least hope to get through the window.

Within seconds I am back outside, my eyes scanning the front of the house for ways to the wide open window above the front step. I try my best to push out all the memories of my mom and my dad going through my head right now, but I can still see them flash before my eyes in little fragments. I blink them away like white spots in my vision, attempting to clear my head. I've finally found a way up.

My feet bring me to the driveway, broken glass crunching under my steps. I climb onto the hood of Bryson's car parked there, the glass stuck in the soles of my shoes scraping the metal like nails on a chalkboard. I grit my teeth as I push off the car to leap onto the roof of the garage, almost slipping as I try balancing on the uneven shingles. My lips purse in concentration. I can save her. I can. And I will.

I take steps towards the roof suspended over the front step, where the peak will take me to the window. The incline of it isn't steep but it won't be easy, especially with the pain-filled noises coming out of that room.

I leap the small but nerve racking distance between the slopes of the roofs, forcing my feet to grip tight on the shingles of the new surface. My hearts beats rapidly and I can feel it in my throat. A pained sound that can only belong to Colby comes from the window and I grip the peak of the roof harder, my knuckles paling. I will.

I push myself up to stand, my feet planting on either side of the peak and I find the windowsill with my hands. I breathe a sigh of relief. I will.

With my last ounce of strength, I pull myself through the open window, sliding in and landing on the floor inside with a loud bang.

"What the fuck?" Says a boy. I seethe. I know that voice.

I scramble up from the floor, my chest heaving in anger. My fists clench as my eyes come to focus on the bastard in front of me. I will kill him.

"Jackson you son of a bitch," I snarl and the boy's face goes pale. He fumbles with the zipper of his pants, struggling to hide his little buddy. I clench my jaw. Sick. That sick little douche. I will kill him.

On the bed I see Cole, curled up on top of the covers, her arms hugging her knees as her shoulder shake with silent sobs. The white covers are stained with droplets of blood, her blood, and so is the back of her dress. Something snaps in me when I see this and I turn my gaze back onto Jackson.

"Tom -" He tries but my fist is already swinging. It connects, sending a jolt satisfying pain up my arm and to my shoulder.

"DON'T," I scream, shoving him to the ground and straddling him. "FUCKING." I punch him again. "CALL ME THAT." I punch him a third time, but this time his blood sprays on my arm and onto my shirt.

"What the hell, Mac?!" Jackson shouts but I interrupt him, smashing my fist into his face yet again.

"Fuck, you know what!" I scream at him. "Don't you fucking pretend you don't know shit I'll fucking KILL YOU."

My body shakes in fury at the boy underneath me. Pathetic. He's pathetic. I feel a grin spread across my face. God I love this. I love watching him squirm from under me even though he knows how deep in shit he is. It's hysterical.

"You're mad, man," Jackson's voice quivers as he struggles in my grip. I hold him fast. "It was just a little -"

"What?" I spit. "Just a little fuck? Just a little leisure time? Or was it to take your mind off of how crappy your pathetic little life is?" I sweep the blood off his face with my arm, letting it spatter the floor. "Or was it to mess with me?" Jackson's face reddens. "Because you knew that I wouldn't do shit when or if I ever found out, was that it?" I lean down to his ear, my body shaking with restrained anger. Jackson's breathing is labored and shaky. I can't help but grin to myself.

I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare...

"I hate to break it to you, but nobody fucks with me nor her and gets away with it. You really thought you would escape this?"

***

Author's Note

Kekekeke another short chapter because I'm so stupid and annoying and lame and ew. Also because I'm sorry I've been a jerk and have kept you waiting for this chapter for such a long time... again.

I'm sorry for all the cursing in this chapter, I usually try to keep it mild but my feelings were on a rampage and it added a more realistic tone to it. I hoped you like it anyways.

Infires beaches💙

~ Cara