still ill • michael gray

Chapter 10

Michael's in the process of talking up one of his friends from home to a very drunk Cara.

"You'd love Isaiah—"

"Is he as rich as you?"

He frowns, "Well—"

"Then I'm not interested," she slurs, finishing off her last gin and tonic before getting up, "I'm going home now. It was nice meeting you, Michael."

"Be safe!" I call out as she saunters away. I lean on his shoulder and just listen to the music coming from the band. "We should go out in five or ten minutes to make sure she's made it into a cab. Once she gets the cab she's usually fine, but sometimes she just passes out on the sidewalk."

"In five or ten minutes we should get going too," he runs a hand through my hair, "You're practically falling asleep."

I can't help but yawn, "I just want to keep listening to the music."

"There will be music tomorrow night and the night after that and the night after that. I promise."

"Five more minutes," I mumble.

Five minutes pass in the blink of an eye—maybe because I did fall asleep. Michael and I slowly begin to make our way out. Once we reach the sidewalk, I don't see Cara anywhere, but immediately a group crowded around an alleyway catches my attention. The cries of a woman that sound all too similar to those of my friend wake me up. I push through the crowd and can't believe my eyes at the scene unfolding. A disgusting looking man smacks and gropes my best friend against the brick wall of the alley.

My best friend. Most of the men in the crowd are laughing while the women look on in horror. My stomach feels like it's on fire as rage fills my entire body. This shit won't fucking fly.

Instinctively I grab Michael's cane, that he for some reason decided to carry tonight, and smash the hard metal end down on the skull of the man attacking Cara. He backs away in confusion. I hit him again, this time smack in the temple. He crumples to the ground. The screams and shouts of the crowd surrounding me don't even reach my eardrums. I hear nothing and feel nothing but the fire in my veins telling me to keep swinging.

And I keep swinging. I don't stop until I'm out of breath and the man's face is nearly unrecognizable.

Finally, the sounds start to come back. I drop the cane and it clatters to the ground. I can hear Michael screaming in my ear that we have to get out of here. I turn away from the scene that just unfolded to see the crowd has backed off significantly. They all look at me like I'm the monster, even the women. I glance over my shoulder at Cara who sits with her back against the wall and her knees pulled against her chest.

"I killed him, didn't I?" I ask Michael softly.

He nods, "I think it's safe to say you did."

"Holy shit," I run my hands through my hair, "Holy shit."

"Alright," he says calmly, "the car is waiting, we're all going to the penthouse, and everything will be fine. You and Cara will get cleaned up, and then I'm going to talk to the police chief and this will all be forgotten," he grabs my shoulders and shakes me a little, "Everything will be fine."

🌆🌆🌆

Everything is not fine. I just killed a man in cold blood, and Michael's been gone for two hours. Cara passed out in the guest bedroom—my old bedroom—pretty much the instant we got back. I'm glad she did. I can't sleep and I don't feel like talking about what happened.

I don't know what was even going through my head in that moment. I don't think much of anything was going through my head at all. In fact, I barely remember doing it.