Tortured Sinner by Tessa James
Claire - 11
He hasn’t come out of his house all day.
Granted, I had to leave and attend my classes, so I can’t be entirely sure. But I’ve come back during all of my breaks and waited in the courtyard, just in case.
Worry sets in that I shouldn’t have left him alone. What if something happened? What if his injuries were worse than I thought they were? What if he hit his head hard enough that when he went to sleep, he didn’t wake up? Did I leave him for dead?
I want to knock, to check on him and make sure he’s okay, but if he really is just resting and recovering, I don’t want to bother him. I just wish he would fucking turn a light on or something to signal that he’s still alive in there.
“Hi,” a small voice says.
I turn my attention toward the sound and settle my gaze on the young boy I had seen reading in this very spot.
“Hey,” I respond.
“You seem…lost?” He tilts his head to the side, and his brown eyes glisten from the sunlight.
I force a smile. “Lost in thought, maybe.” I point to the book in his hand. “Is that any good?”
My question seems to cheer him up.
“Yeah. It’s about this town that has all these alien abductions and this weird presence that won’t leave. No one can figure out what’s causing it.”
For a second, it’s like he forgets I’m a stranger. It makes me realize how I haven’t seen him with any other kids. Only that grumpy man who yelled at him.
“Billy,” I sort of blurt out when the name crosses my mind. “Right? I think I heard your dad calling for you the other day.”
He frowns. “That’s my uncle, not my dad.”
“My mistake.” The alarm on my phone goes off, alerting me that it’s time to head to school for my last class of the day. I glance up to the second level to check for life one more time.
“Are you friends with Johnny?” Billy asks me.
“No.” I pause and shift to him. “Are you?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Have you seen him today?” I need to leave, but maybe Billy has the answers I need to settle my raging worries.
“Nope.”
One word deflates the balloon of hope I was briefly holding on to.
The two-minute snooze on my phone goes off. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.” I step away and toward the exit. “Enjoy your book,” I call out to him.
He smiles innocently. “Thanks.”
* * *
Usually, I’m a well-disciplined student. I pay attention and take the best notes and always come prepared.
Today though? I’m a hot mess.
I can't think straight, and every time I desperately attempt to focus on what my teacher is saying, my mind wanders to the blood-covered guy from last night. It's not exactly an ideal start to my freshman year of college.
Each second leading up to class being dismissed is more antagonizing than the last. It’s like I’m rushing to be done so I can sit and wait for some kind of reprieve from thinking Johnny might be dead.
That I left him when he needed someone the most.
I walk to the complex faster than I ever have, cringing when I pass the alley where I found him.
My cell buzzes, and I glance at the notification from Griffin.
I've been ignoring his calls and texts, for obvious reasons. I haven't been in the right headspace to deal with this situation, let alone that one.
Griffin has managed to go from blowing me off, to cussing me out, to apologizing and begging me to answer him. It’s a mindfuck, but it’s totally Griffin’s way. He’s trying to get some kind of reaction out of me so he’s flipping through the versions of him to see which one I will respond to.
Little does he know, I’m dealing with something much more important than his many mood swings.
I have a missed FaceTime from Rosie, too, but she was easily pacified with a quick text telling her that I’m swamped with assignments already.
It’s not totally a lie, all things considered.
I arrive at the gate at my complex, and an idea pops into my head.
If Johnny isn’t dead, and he’s just resting, he’s probably hungry. Given the takeout containers throughout his kitchen and living room, I doubt he has much to eat at his place.
I turn on my heel and go to the one place I’m familiar with.
Bram waves from his spot behind the counter when I walk in. “Welcome back.”
“Do you happen to sell soup?” I ask him, not totally versed on his menu yet.
He glances behind him briefly. “Yep. Chicken noodle and broccoli cheddar today.”
I bite at my lip as I deliberate. “I’ll have a cup of both.” Better safe than sorry. “To go,” I add. “And two BLTs.”
He jots it all down on his order pad. “Any coffee?”
“Um, yeah. Large black and…uh…” I rack my brain. I know next to nothing about Johnny, what if he’s a tea drinker instead? “Make that another, too. Cinnamon in one, please.”
“Coming right up.” He attaches the slip to a little metal clip thing and spins it to his cook.
“Thanks,” I tell him and settle onto a stool to wait.
He punches buttons on his register. “That’ll be seventeen even.”
I pull out a twenty and slide it across the counter. “Don’t worry about the change.”
“Thanks.” He smiles, but then shifts his attention to my incessantly bouncing knee. “You okay?”
What a loaded question. How do I begin to answer it?
I force myself to sit still. “Yeah. Just waiting on news for something.” No big deal, it’s only life or death. And here I am, thinking soup and sandwiches are going to somehow make things better.
“Ah, that does sound stressful.” Bram pulls out two disposable coffee cups and fills them to the top. He places them carefully into a drink carrier. “I’m sort of in the same boat.”
I open my mouth to ask him if he’s okay, to focus on anything other than my own issues, but a bell dings and steals his attention.
“Order up,” the guy in the kitchen says. He shoves the bags across and Bram puts them in front of me.
I open them up, taking one of the sandwiches out and putting it with the soup, leaving the other behind for me. I can’t say I have much of an appetite, but I need to eat something today if I want to stay somewhat sane.
“Any crackers?” Bram reaches under the counter and pulls a few packets out.
I hold the bag toward him to let him drop them inside. “Thanks, Bram.”
“No problem. Good luck with your thing.”
“You too.” I lean against the door to exit, nodding a goodbye in the process.
I make quick work of getting to the complex, not wanting to waste another second. I push in the access code and let the gate clang shut behind me.
I suck in a breath and slowly shift my gaze to Johnny’s place.
My heart nearly thumps out of my chest when I notice light coming from the window. It’s not much, but it’s a sign that I desperately needed.
I walk through the empty courtyard and up the stairs, recalling last night and how difficult it was to drag his nearly lifeless body upstairs.
I knock on his door, not really sure what to expect. What will I even say?
Here's some food because I'm a weirdo and thought you should eat, even though we've never really spoken and you’re kind of an asshole, but for some unknown reason, I’m still worried about you.
I suddenly realize how foolish I’m being. I lay the bag of his stuff down and pull out one of the coffees and set it carefully on his threshold.
I rush to my own sanctuary, exhaling deeply once I’m tucked inside.
I’ve done my part. I cleaned him up, I made sure he wasn’t dead, and I fed him. There’s nothing more that I need to do. He can take it from here.
Plus, I have my own problems to deal with. One glance at my phone tells me that.