Alyssa ♔
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Fighting over a gun isn't like in the movies. It's exhausting and scary, and all I can think about as we wrestle on the floor is that this thing could go off, and that would be it; our lives would be changed forever.

Ruined.

Justin attempts to shove me away, struggling to restrain my arms, but I don't stop. I kick and punch, leveraging my weight to thwart his attempts because not getting that gun is not an option. Failure is not an option.

"Justin, stop," I snap as he grabs my shoulders, but one look at his red, contorted face tells me he can't hear me. He's lost in his thoughts, focused only on what his dad will think if he leaves this house without what he came for. And that's the problem, I realize. The shadow that's followed our entire relationship. None of this has ever been about us.

From the very beginning, Justin and I were pushed together because our parents were friends, and it made them happy. But nowhere in their scheme to create two family powerhouses did they ask what we wanted. Nobody cared, and when it comes to Justin, they still don't.

Ignoring the rapid pounding in my ears, I stop struggling to look at him. I could hit him right now if I wanted. I could lift my fist – the same one Max taught me to form – and deliver the meanest uppercut imaginable. But part of me, for whatever reason, still wants to get through to him, and the only way to do that is by talking.

"You're ruining your life," I say, searching his face, "and for what? A father who couldn't give a shit about you?"

"I know." He closes his eyes, and for a moment, I think I see something vulnerable in his expression. A second later, it's gone. "But he controls my trust fund, which means he controls my future."

"He controls your money," I say, glancing at the door. Any moment now, Max could walk in, and everything would devolve into chaos. "He doesn't control your future."

Something too adult-like flashes in Justin's expression, contrasting with his boyish features. "C'mon, Liss. You're smart enough to know they're one and the same."

I shake my head. The old me would have thought so. Once upon a time, money and appearance were the only things that mattered to me. They still would be if it weren't for Justin cheating on me. I'd have grown up just like my mother, stuck in an unhappy but comfortable relationship and spending copious amounts of money to fill the void instead of doing the things that make me happy.

"My house is literally a shell," I say, and for the first time all night, my voice doesn't shake. I feel strangely at ease. "My dad is on the run, and you're about to take the last valuable thing we own. And you know what? I have never felt more relieved than I do now because having that much money comes with strings, Justin. Right now, I'm free, and neither you, your dad, or my parents can use money to control me anymore. Can you say the same?"

He stares at me for the longest time. I hold my breath, waiting for that Eureka moment, where he looks at our situation and what he's doing, and common sense kicks in. But like an idiot, he doubles down.

"You think you're so superior," he says, shoving me away from him. I stumble a few steps before regaining my balance. "It wasn't long ago you were known as the biggest bitch in school, and now you want to pretend like you're taking some moral high ground? I know you, Liss – the real you, not this version you're playing. You're as bad, if not worse than I am, so don't stand there and act like you're fucking better than me."

He advances toward me, and something inside me snaps. All the pain and hurt he had caused me before erases any sympathy I might have had for him. I hit him with a quick one-two, followed by a right hook. He staggers back but doesn't fall, and I can no longer think about saving him, only about saving myself. I throw two punches to his stomach, but my third punch goes sailing over his shoulder, allowing him to land his own.

Ignoring the sting across my cheek, I move forward, landing a quick jab to his nose. He grunts, trying to stop the bleeding, and I follow with a combo that sends him to his knees. He hunches over, clutching his stomach as he gasps for air. Fueled by anger, I step closer, ready to land another jab before freezing. As much as Justin might deserve a good beat-down, this isn't the kind of fighter I want to be.

"Give me the gun," I manage. "Slowly."

I expect him to resist, but he doesn't. With one hand still at his nose, Justin retrieves the gun from his pocket and tosses it aside. I step closer, about to pick it up, when I take a closer look. The urge to punch him returns with a vengeance. "It's fake?"

He nods and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them like a kid. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I didn't even know you'd be home. I figured I could get in and out without anyone noticing." He looks over now, blue eyes shaky and panicked. "I fucked up, Liss. I'm sorry."

I close my eyes, dropping the gun to the ground. My mother would have been terrified if she'd been the one to wake up first. If I hadn't been home. I'm terrified, even if it scares me to admit it. "Do you know how messed up this is? You broke into my house, Justin. You held a gun at me."

He closes his eyes, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "I was drunk, alright? I never thought it would go like this."

It takes me a moment to formulate words. "That's your excuse? You never thought it would go like this?"

"It's the truth."

"If it were the truth, you wouldn't have brought the fake gun, so good luck having that hold up in court."

His eyes cut toward me, dark and no longer apologetic. "You're calling the cops?"

I stay silent for a moment. It's funny – I used to view boxing as my way to get back at Justin, to hurt him the way he hurt me. But somewhere along the way, it evolved into something so much more positive than that, and the thought of using it for vengeance feels wrong.

Instead, I want justice. I want people like Justin, who are used to throwing money at everything, to face the same consequences as anyone else. "As soon as Max gets here, which will be any second, so don't think of going anywhere."

A shadow crosses his face, casting a dark veil across his features. He gets to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. "Why bother? You know the charges won't stick. My dad will find some way to get me out of it."

Maybe it's a strange thing to focus on, given the circumstances, but all I can think is that Max was right. We are from different worlds because in my world, guys like Justin get away with crimes scot-free. In Max's, they're punished for life. "You're probably right," I say, and even though I want nothing more than to punch that smug look off his face, I don't. "I'm calling them anyway."

His eyes form a narrow tilt, and he maintains an unwavering gaze as if he thinks he can stare me out of my decision. "Go ahead, but if you call the cops, just know that I'll be forced to tell them everything I know, and unlike my parents, your parents aren't in a position to fight the charges. Do you really want to destroy your family over something this stupid?"

A gnawing sense of regret courses through me, but I realize, deep down, that it's not my responsibility to shield my parents. They made their choices, and now it's time for me to make mine. "You know, that bullshit would have probably worked on me before, but I know now that the only people responsible for my parents' mistakes are them. Actions have consequences, Justin. For once, you're going to learn that."

"Liss, please," Justin says, grabbing my arm. For all his bravado about his dad bailing him out, he's more scared than I've ever seen him. "I'll stay away from you, I swear. My dad will, too. In fact, he'll drop this whole thing and let your dad come home if I explain the situation. Could even give you some money to help get you guys back on your feet."

For a split second, the idea of having our old life back is tempting. We'd have furniture again, we'd no longer be in financial ruin, and knowing he's no longer being hunted, my dad could go home. But accepting Justin's money would mean once again being under someone else's financial control, and freedom is something I'll never take for granted again.

I yank my arm away, trying to recall what it was about him that I loved, but either he's changed, or I have because I can't find a single thing. "I can't be paid off. Sorry."

Desperation fills his eyes. As he turns to bolt, I lunge forward, my fingers barely grazing his t-shirt before he slips out of my reach. He scrambles up the stairs, his hand almost reaching the doorknob when it swings open, and there stands Max, his towering figure blocking the doorway like my own personal bodyguard. I blink a few times, my hands trembling as the nightmare I've been stuck in comes to an abrupt end.

I'm awake.

A/N

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