Worse Than Enemies

I’m worried about her, but I can’t stop watching Hayes. He lets Logan drop to the ground before kicking him in the ribs once, twice. When Logan rolls onto his side, curling into a ball, Hayes delivers a series of sharp kicks to his lower back.

He then rolls him onto his back, straddling his midsection, when he drops to his knees. He takes him by the collar of his shirt and lifts his head and shoulders off the ground. “You wanna get rough, you raping piece of shit? Let’s get rough.”

He hits him again and again, until his knuckles are bloody. He drops Logan onto the ground, but keeps hitting him until his face is coated in blood and it sounds like he’s choking.

Salem clutches me, screaming. “Hayes, stop!”

“You have to stop!” I get up, leaving her on the ground, then take my life in my hands by approaching. “You’ll kill him! Hayes, you’ll kill him!” If he’s not already dead. His face is almost unrecognizable, blood glistening in what light is leaking between the vans. I can’t tell if he’s breathing.

Hayes’s head snaps up, and the wildness in his eyes makes me fall back a step while my insides turn icy. “Stop,” I say, “We have to get out of here before somebody finds him.”

He’s breathing heavily, and for a second, I don’t know if he even hears me. Maybe he’s too far gone. “Hayes,” I say again, this time reaching out and touching his shoulder.

He nods slowly, shooting one more look at Logan before getting up. “Motherfucker,” he mutters before taking one more kick at his ribs. Logan doesn’t respond, but his chest is moving up and down.

“We have to help her.” I go back to Salem, who’s trying to pull herself together.

Hayes is gentle, lifting her arm and draping it around his neck. “Come on. Let’s get you on your feet.”

“I—I tried—” She looks around wildly, mascara-ringed eyes finding me. “I tried.”

“I know you did.” As I drape her other arm over my shoulders, I have to fight back tears. Her feet drag over the ground as she sags between us.

“Here.” Hayes crouches a little and scoops her up in his arms. She rests her head on his shoulder, weeping, and he makes little comforting noises before looking around to make sure nobody is nearby. “Come on.”

We walk around the perimeter of the park, far away from everybody. My heart’s pounding and I’m still a little sick to my stomach when I remember what Logan looked like by the time Hayes was finished with him. Between that and what I witnessed happening to Salem, my stomach’s churning and a cold sweat coats my skin.

“I can’t go home like this.” It’s the only thing I understand coming from Salem before she bursts into fresh tears.

“We could take her home with us, right?” I ask Hayes. Our parents aren’t home, so it’s the perfect solution.

“Yeah,” he says. “She can stay with us.”

“But shouldn’t we go to the hospital?” I ask.

“No, we can’t do that.” Salem lifts her head, finding me behind Hayes. “I took some stuff. And I drank a bunch.”

So she would get into a lot of trouble if they tested her at the hospital. But still, I ask, “He’s just going to get away with it?”

“What about...” Salem looks at Hayes before lowering her head to his shoulder again, and I understand. If Hayes shows up at the hospital with bloody hands and Logan describes what happened, everyone will know Hayes gave him that beating. If he even survives it.

On top of that, there was the scene she and Logan made in the park. It’s on video, so many videos. I’m sure cops would take one look at some of that footage and say she was asking for it. If Logan had a lawyer, they would jump all over it.

She’s trapped in a corner. We all are. Right now, what I need to think about is my friend, who Hayes very gently settles into the back seat of his car.

“You’re okay now.” I slide in next to Salem and she curls up against me. “We’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, Morgan, I’m sorry.” She tucks her head under my chin. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I understand.”

“I can’t believe...”

“I know.” I stroke her hair, trying to be as gentle as I can.

“Thank you. I don’t deserve you coming after me.”

“Sure you do. Like I said, I understand.”

“He got all rough with me and I said I didn’t like it. And then he got so mad.” She’s shaking so hard, I’m almost afraid she’s having a seizure at first. “And then he threw me on the ground, and I screamed, but nobody could hear me.”

“You’re safe now,” Hayes reminds her in a gentle voice.

When I look up into the front seat, the part of his profile I can see along with his hands squeezing the wheel tell me he’s not feeling so gentle. What will happen if somebody finds out what he did?