𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙰𝚃 𝙼𝙸𝙳𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 ,, nate macauley

14 | just 'cause i shot first, doesn't mean it didn't hurt

14

lone survivor – the wrecks

"just cause I shot first, doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

I was eight years old when the Costa Concordia ran aground. 

I remember watching the news coverage, seeing this massive cruise liner lying on it's side in Tuscany, terrified tourists realizing that there was nothing they could do but watch the boat go down. What was even more haunting was seeing photos of the after. The side that had been submerged was rusted and collapsing. The youngest that died was five years old.

Six months later, my mother announced that she had booked us a Carnival cruise. I cried on the way to the port in Los Angeles, and TJ held my hand the entire car ride. I made such a fuss in the terminal about worst case scenarios and lifeboat procedures and 'are we all going to die's that TJ went to the captain and explained out situation. The captain would end up taking us to the bridge to show me just how safe the Carnival Breeze really was.

TJ always looked out for me, in small ways that I always assumed he thought were unsubstantial.

Seemingly, that was what he thought he was doing now, clutching Nate Macauley by the collar over a glass dining room table. There was blood running down Nate's face, a clump of which he spat onto the hardwood floor before turning to TJ.

"I didn't do anything to her, mate. I swear to god. Whatever mess you think we're in, Charis has nothing to do with it.

"Tyrone!" I shouted, running after Jeremy. "TJ, stop! You're hurting him!"

At the sound of my voice, everybody freezes. TJ's fist is halfway to Nate's face, and Nate is grasping for my half-full Smirnoff, no doubt to use to bash TJ's head in. Nate sheepishly lowers the bottle, but TJ doesn't put him down.

"Did he touch you, Charis?" TJ's tone is steely, scary, even. It was the tone he used when he found out about me and Jeremy. The tone he used when he went after Jeremy with a baseball bat, lucky that coach didn't press any charges. He was benched for two games.

It scared me to see him like this. Usually, flying off the handle was my thing.

"No. Nate didn't touch me, he didn't hurt me. He's kept me safe since the shooting." I reached out, voice shaky as I touched TJ's arm. "Let him go, Ty."

Begrudgingly, he loosened his grip on Nate's collar, allowing the other boy to get away. He stuck his middle finger up at TJ before pushing through the crowd. Vanessa, one of Addy Prentiss' friends, opened the French-doored fridge, passing Nate a bag of frozen cauliflower to hold to the cuts on his face before she wrinkled her nose in disgust and walked away from him to rejoin the huddle.

"Hey, it's that girl from the TV!" One girl shouted over the Luke Bryan song, clutching on to her boyfriend's lacrosse jersey. "What if the killers followed her here! What if we get shot?"

I wasn't listening as I let TJ pull me into his arms, his embrace signalling safety, security. Family. He'd gone full Dominic Toretto before, and I had no doubt that he'd do it again without hesitation once he knew what we had gotten into.

"I've been trying to call." He said quietly. "Ever since the report first broke, I don't know why we have the news on anyway. Mom and Dad probably don't know yet. You know they're probably watching the rugby now. Or asleep."

"My phone's been on do not disturb. The last thing I needed was for it to ring while Lords' cronies were chasing us."

TJ pulled back. "Lords? As in, Iain Lords?"