The Not-Outcast by Tijan

54

Cheyenne

Ithought police stations were supposed to be busy late at night.

Or was it early morning by now?

Either way, the hallway they’d put me in wasn’t busy. It was almost abandoned. I was sitting on a lone bench. The lights were flickering and one of the bulbs was out. It must’ve been a hallway they never used because I’d see people go past the hallway, farther down. Cops. Cops bringing in whoever they were arresting. Other people being led by cops. I didn’t know the time so I was only guessing.

I had my purse, but my phone was dead.

They’d taken Cut into a back room for his statement.

Then they asked for my statement, and when I was done, they led me out here.

This was where I still was, waiting. Sitting. Cut was back there.

So that’s where I was when I turned and saw Chad walking past the hallway.

He was back.

For sensory-wise, this hallway was nice. A small echo from the people down there. The low lights were almost soothing. I could’ve slipped into a trance from the flickering above me. It wasn’t hot or cold, but I was also slightly numb. I must’ve been, which wasn’t my usual. I felt all if I went a certain way, but this time, I was numb.

How odd.

Or I must’ve felt numb because when I saw Chad, I didn’t feel a thing.

Those bruises were still on his neck from me. He was here. Someone must’ve called him or told him to come down here and the police would ask about his bruises.

He’d tell them, because why wouldn’t he? He’d gone back on his word to Cut before so I had no reason to believe he wouldn’t this time, even though he said he’d ‘make it up’ to Cut. Pfft. He was a liar.

Like Deek.

Who was a murderer.

They both hurt me. They both hurt my mom.

She was sick. She was a junkie.

She didn’t ask for that second needle. Deek decided. He wanted to be rid of her. He didn’t do anything for me. That was a sick man’s justification, the excuse he was telling himself, but he killed her because he simply didn’t want to deal with her anymore. As long as she lived, as long as I lived, he’d have to. And Chad--maybe I wasn’t so numb after all? My stomach rolled over thinking about Chad and my mom again.

I’d been blasé before, telling Cut that it hadn’t been a ‘bad night’ in my old world, but it took on a different feel now. Now that I knew what he’d done with her before, and then what Deek did to her later. Everything took on a different feel. A more raw feel. Primitive. I felt scraped open, my insides were on display for everyone to see and judge.

I felt like scum, like the byproduct for what they did to her. They did it to me, too.

I felt like a victim. I hated feeling like a fucking victim.

They took her away and no one questioned it. Not even me.

Someone should’ve questioned it. Why then? Was it accidental? Had something happened earlier that might’ve made her do it, if she did it herself? No one asked. It was an overdose and that was it. They were all wrong.

She was a person.

She was my jailer at times.

She neglected me.

She emotionally abused me.

But she was my mom.

She was taken from me.

Yes. The world felt a little different now.

I heard footsteps first, and I looked.

Chad had spotted me. He was coming toward me, and he paused, seeing me look at him. I didn’t know what he read on my face, but he faltered mid-step. He stopped. He frowned. He started to turn to leave. He stopped.

He looked at me.

And he looked at me.

And he still looked at me.

The fucker couldn’t decide.

Then he must’ve.

He pushed his hands in his pockets, his shoulders lowered, and he started for me again.

I was glaring the whole time.

This was not Happy Zen-like Cheyenne.

“Hey.” He was rigid, waiting.

I bit out, “Hey.” Fuckface.

He grimaced, then coughed. “I—uh—Sasha called me, told me what happened.”

That made me laugh because what did happen? A drunk asshole confessed to killing someone. How does that get relayed over the phone?

“Why did she call you? You’re not his son.”

He flinched, his hand coming out and running through his hair. “I—uh—I don’t know.” His hand went back in his pocket. “Is that what I should do? I’m not going to call Hunter, but I could call Natalie?”

“No.”

That came out as a guttural bark, like it was forcing its way out of me.

Natalie would know—though, maybe she did? Everything went down discreetly, as far as a confession and an arrest. Cut called the police. He waited outside with Deek. He made sure I went back inside, but I didn’t leave the door. I stood just inside and Sasha and Melanie stayed with me. I think Hendrix played guard duty, keeping anyone from seeing us after that.

We waited an hour.

It took an hour for a squad car to come over.

The police arrived, no lights were blaring so it looked like a normal car in the dark.

They got out, talked to Cut. Handcuffs were put on Deek, and he was escorted into the car. They talked more with Cut, then one came to find me. It wasn’t hard to find me. He opened the door and there I was, and I gave him a brief statement of what I overheard.

That’s how Sasha knew. She would’ve heard me then.

They remained there for twenty minutes, but I didn’t know why.

Then they took him and we were asked to come down as well.

That took another hour, longer even.

The drive to the police station.

Going in. Waiting.

Then the statements, and I was back to waiting.

Now Chad was here.

“How did you get back here?”

“What?” He’d been looking the other way, but swung back to me.

He was being nice.

That registered in the back of my mind. Why was he being nice? He was always so mean to me.

“How did you get back here? It’s a police station. I doubt they want someone just wandering around.”

“Uh…” His mouth was open and he gaped at me a second. “I don’t know. I just walked through. No one was out there, and the door coming back here was open. I figured they left it open on purpose.”

“I highly doubt that. You should go back out there.”

“What?” He laughed.

Why did he laugh? This wasn’t a laughing matter.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” I chose my words on purpose. I wanted to see his reaction.

He flushed, swallowing, and then he winced once more. “You don’t want me around you?”

“When do I ever?”

He frowned, his hand in his hair once more.

Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t being normal Cheyenne, well, fuck that Cheyenne. Fuck who that was—“Do people like you think about the people you hurt?”

“What?”

“People like me. People like my mom.”

“Huh? I didn’t hurt your mom. Your mom, she—”

“She was a goddamn junkie, Chad! You were a teenager, but in that moment, you were the adult--”

“No, I wasn’t! I was a teenager—”

“You took advantage of her and you know it. You and your fath—”

He surged toward me, getting in my face. His finger was pointing and he was red. “He’s not my father! He’s yours!”

“Then why are you here?!” I yelled right back.

The switch was flipped and I didn’t give a fuck.

I didn’t care about him.

I didn’t care about the police.

I didn’t care about his neck.

She was taken from me, and that wasn’t their decision. Deek wouldn’t have come over if Chad hadn’t--but he was right, and I stopped because he was right.

“Hey.” Cut’s voice came down the hallway. He was alone and frowning, his head inclined and moving between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

I turned away.

She could’ve lasted longer.

She might’ve lasted longer.

She might’ve—she might’ve got help, but no. I was lying to myself.

She did get help. A lot of it. And it never stuck.

When would it have stuck?

Or would she have done it herself later on? Would she have pushed the second needle in anyways?

Cut and Chad were talking. I heard their voices murmuring to each other, and then Cut was coming toward me.

I didn’t want him near me.

“Hey, hey.”

His voice was gentle.

His hands were gentle.

I didn’t want gentle.

I whipped around and shoved him back. “Don’t!”

“He—what?” From Cut.

Chad had been leaving, but he stopped and turned back.

“This.” He had to know. I already told him, but he had to know. “This isn’t a one-time shitty thing that happened to me. This is the last in a long list of shitty things that have happened to me, and I thought it was done. I thought when she died, and when I went away, and when I got better, I thought it was all going to get better. I’m still here! I’m still in the police station because my father helped my mother overdose. He killed her, and he had no right! No. Right! NO RIGHT!”

I was remembering those days.

Bits and pieces. They were disjointed.

We ran out of shampoo.

I used soap from a gas station a block away.

I remember my stomach growling, and growling, until it got to a point when it stopped growling. I thought it stopped working at times.

I remember the cold.

I’d forgotten the cold, until now.

I had no blankets.

She took them, but I never knew why. She just did.

And she was cold.

I wasn’t talking about temperature.

I just wanted someone to make me warm.

“Let’s go home, Shy.”

I wasn’t numb anymore.

So many thoughts and feelings were blasting me now, but I heard him and I lifted my head.

I was sad. I didn’t want to be sad anymore.

“You used my nickname.”

He gave me a crooked grin, but to me it was the most beautiful smile ever.

He murmured, reaching for my hand and curling two of his fingers around mine, “I can call you Shine instead? My own nickname for you.”

Shine.

I liked that.

Shiny.

A wind funnel formed inside of me. I had my own tornado in me. It was going around and around, and then finally, at the touch of his hand, it started to leave me. I was all empty inside, just the aftermath of that storm.

I curled my hand tight around his two fingers and I held on.

I needed to hold on.

“She was an outcast growing up. She told me that. She stayed an outcast, too, and so was I. She made an outcast, but,” a sick little laugh rippled up my throat and left me. I felt like it was pulling the last of that wind with it, leaving me hollow. “I never felt like an outcast back then, but I was.” I looked at him, feeling nothing except emptiness inside of me. “I was one back then, but I didn’t feel it. I’m not one now, so why do I feel like I am?”

His eyes darkened and he stepped toward me, pulling me to his chest. He curled his arm around me, holding me tight and his head bent down. His lips grazed my forehead. Then my cheeks. Then my lips. Then my throat, and his breath tickled me.

“I can’t speak on what it was like for you back then, but I can tell you about now. And now is good. Now is where you have Sasha and Melanie. You have Reba and Boomer at Come Our Way. You have all the guys at Come Our Way. They all care about you, and you have me.” He held me even tighter. “You have all of me.”

I did.

His breath warmed me.

He warmed me.

* * *

It was lateron the ride home.

We were going to Cut’s house.

I don’t know what happened to Chad. I didn’t care. Cut told me that Chad was going to call Natalie, and he was sure that Natalie’s husband would help Deek how he could. It was karma in a way, but Cut also reassured me that I didn’t need to worry about Chad saying anything about his neck.

But it hit me around the time Cut was turning onto his road that if my mom hadn’t died, what then?

Would I have gone to my uncle’s? Got better? Gone to Silvard?

Would I have ended up where I was right now, with Cut?

I’d never know, I guess.

But there were two things I did know.

I fell in love with Cutler when I first saw him, and I still loved him.

I’d love him for the rest of my life.

I lied. I knew three things after all.

* * *

Koala Sister: I love you

Koala Brother: Same.