Nineteen Years ago
Vic
“Did your mom get in trouble too?” a soft voice asked in a sort-of-loud whisper.
I didn’t bother glancing at the little girl sitting on the wooden bench three feet away from me. And I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I slouched farther down, kicking out my soaking wet jean-clad legs and pulling my black hoodie farther over my face.
“I’ve been here before, you know. The policeman always gives me a pop. We don’t get them at home because Dad says it’s too much sugar. Did you get one?”
I remained silent, hoping the kid would shut up.
Loud voices erupted from the other side of the precinct, and a door slammed shut. The two officers who had brought me in were hunched over a computer and talking with the odd glance thrown my way. I bet they were arguing over who should make the call to Officer Hank Gate, aka Dad, and tell him I was here. Hank wasn’t nice, and he’d be pissed I was picked up, which meant I’d fucked up because I didn’t get the stash of drugs like he’d asked.
I didn’t give a shit either way. Nothing mattered anymore. I deserved a beating. I deserved whatever I had coming to me. I fucked up. I fucked up, and he was dead because of it.
I heard a rustling beside me, and the little girl slouched down like me and stretched out her little legs, but she was too small for them to touch the linoleum floor, so they stuck straight out. From the corner of my eye, I saw a rainbow of colors on her running shoes that looked like they’d been painted on and the colors had bled together.
“We can share if you want.” She snapped the tab and a hiss echoed before I heard her shuffle closer to me. Then she set the can of pop between us on the bench. “Why are you all wet? Were you out in the rain?”
I ground my teeth together and stared at the toes of my boots. I wanted to take them off so I could remove my sopping-wet socks. My toes were cramped in the too-small boots. I’d had them for just over a year and had several growth spurts since then. But unless I stole new boots, I wasn’t getting any. I’d snagged a pair of runners from a local school for my little brother six months ago, along with a winter jacket. Of course, it hadn’t been from our school because someone might have recognized the items.
My gut twisted and the lump in my raw throat enlarged. I sucked in a breath, but there was no air. I couldn’t get any fucking air. My lungs were suffocating. I couldn’t breathe.
Jesus. Breathe.
“Are you okay?” The gentle voice cut through the pain, and I sucked in air. “Do you want to hold Yoda? He’s really soft, and sometimes when I squeeze him, it makes me feel better.”
I curled my hands into fists inside my hoodie pocket, feeling the trickle of warmth as the cuts on my hands reopened. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to talk to strangers?” I mumbled.
She giggled. “It’s okay. We’re at the police station.”
I grunted, sliding farther down on the bench.
Footsteps approached, and I lifted my head just enough to peer at the female officer. She crouched in front of the little girl and put her hand on her knee. “It won’t be too much longer. We’re just taking your mom’s statement. But we can’t get a hold of your dad.”
I saw the girl’s shoulders shrug as she clutched her stuffed Yoda to her chest. “He’s at a tourn-ment with my brother.”
She smiled. “Okay, then. Do you need anything?”
The little girl shook her head, and honey-blonde strands danced over her shoulders. “No. I’m good. But can he have a pop too?”
I stiffened, my sunglasses hiding the surprise in my red-rimmed eyes as I looked at the girl. She had huge, beautiful eyes. Ocean-blue eyes with tiny specks of green in them that glimmered under the flickering fluorescent lights.
The officer looked at me and nodded. “Yeah. Sure, he can. I’ll be right back.” She straightened and walked over to a vending machine. I heard the clink as she dropped coins into the slot, then the clonk as a can tumbled down the chute. The officer strode back and held the can out to me.
I hesitated, uncertain. Would she pull it away before I could reach it? Was it a trick? Hank did that all the time. It was a game, and I realized it was better to never take what he offered. Even when he opened the lid of the trunk, I’d stay inside until he left the room.
But I was so fuckin’ thirsty.
I pulled my hand from my hoodie and reached for the pop, expecting her to yank it out of my reach. But she didn’t, and my hand curled around the ice-cold tin. The officer smiled and walked away.
The little girl picked up her can of pop and sipped, although it was more of a slurp.
I pulled the tab on the can and it hissed, froth spilling up and over the rim.
I raised it to my lips and sipped the overflow.
The bubbles popped inside my mouth, and the carbonated sugary liquid burned my raw throat when I swallowed.