The Other Hailey

26| school wrecker II

     In every vampire film, there are vampire hunters; those who hunt every bloodsucking demon within sight.

I previously described Adam as an emotional vampire. And where there's a vampire walking around, threatening the lives of innocent souls, a vampire hunter is needed. I am needed.

Veronica was a victim of Adam's maltreatment. Not me. Still doesn't mean I wouldn't take action. No one deserves to be treated that way. Adam needs to be stopped. The scene of his crimes— the school —should be punished for covering Adam up. They have protected and shielded Adam in expense of the other kids. Someone has to call out this injustice.

The cold can of spray paint fits perfectly in my hands. Electric blue leaks down the cylinder in tiny snakes. Shaking the can once more, I squat to make the final touches to the letter 'A'. Once I'm done, I look around, trying to locate Dean somewhere on the field. Dean's wavy locks sway with every quick movement. His wrist flicks faster than I can see.

I admire the way the colors synthesize until I realize he's drawing small dicks onto the bleachers along with some derogatory words.

He looks innocent and pure from the outside. But something else on the inside.

I almost laugh, remembering how I called him angelic the first time I discovered he was boyfriend #2.

Turning my head away, I pick up from where I left off. And in no time, I finish making the word, DOUCHEBAG visible on the school's field. A breathless sigh leaves my lips, indicating how tired I am. I stretch my back out, throwing the empty can down to the grass. The can rolls on the grass. They stop at Dean's feet. He doesn't notice this, because he's no longer here. He looks trapped in his own thoughts. I watch him while he's unaware of his surroundings. His glasses are off now. His face is scrunched up as he continues spraying words all over the field. He's too quiet. I can tell there are things running through his mind.

"What are you thinking about?"

It takes a moment before he answers. "Does silence necessarily mean that one is thinking?"

"That's deep, philosopher." I mock.

He chuckles at my joke. And I'm glad I put a smile on his face.

I purse my lips. "But, yeah." I answer his question. "I mean you might just be a psychopath if you're not thinking after the terrible things we have done."

"We're not going to get caught." He stands straighter, brushing his hair away from his eyes, only for them to bounce right back. "And yes, I was thinking."

I tense up. "About what?"

He plays with the can in his hand as he prepares to speak. "Cohen." He pauses. "It's hard to get my mind off him once he's mentioned."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned him." I start to apologize, because I know how sensitive one can be when their past is mentioned. Take Olivia as an example.

"No, it's fine." He gives me half-smiles. "It's good you mentioned him. I want to be reminded, because when you're trying to heal, you accidentally gaslight yourself into blocking the bad memories out. And the good memories dissipate along with the bad memories. I don't want to forget."

I nod. Stepping closer, I ask. "He must have been a lovely kid."

"No, he was annoying as hell."

I laugh at the unexpected response.

"But I loved him endlessly. There might have been a five year gap between us both, but I called him my twin. He was my best friend actually, not like I have a lot of those. So, I didn't only lose my brother, I lost my best friend."