When I got home, I saw the door was slightly ajar, and I thought I was going to get robbed. But it would be less scary because I noticed my brother's military boots on the front porch. He wasn't supposed to go home until October, so what the hell is he doing going home right now?
Panic started to set in my gut because he would get upset with how I looked and ask questions. It doesn't help that I have a busted lip and probably a concussion. I tap my lip to remove the blood, and hopefully, I can lie my way to my bedroom. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I pushed the door open. The familiar creak of the hinges felt like a warning siren, loud and unforgiving. Stepping inside, I was greeted by the sight of my brother, Jake, sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.
"Mily, what happened to you?" he asked, his voice a strange blend of anger and worry. He stood up, his broad shoulders and towering frame a stark reminder of his military training and the protective nature that came with it.
I tried to force a smile, but it hurt too much. "It's nothing, Jake. Just had a rough day, that's all."
"That's not nothing," he said, crossing the room in three quick strides. His eyes scanned my face, taking in the swollen lip and bruise on my cheek. "Who did this to you?"
"It's not important," I said, trying to sidestep him, but he blocked my path.
"Mily, you need to tell me or I'm going to start asking questions to your school."
I sighed, knowing that there was no way around this. "I got into a fight, okay? It's just… complicated."
Jake's eyes narrowed. "Complicated how?"
I thought about lying, and it took me a few minutes to come up with a story. "It's just a matter of group project. I disagree, my friend disagrees, and then everyone disagrees, and no one wants to back down. So, we got into a fight."
"Yeah, you're not a really good liar, young lady," he took me to the kitchen and made me sit on one of the stools while he rummaged through the cabinet, looking for what I assume was a first aid kit.
He sits next to me and starts to clean my wound. The frown on his forehead is more visible, and I know he's worried about me. I grip my jacket sleeve on my left arm tightly, hoping he wouldn't notice seven little dots of second-degree burn on my arm. After he was done, he gave me a once-over. Thankfully, my clothes are not torn or burned; they are just dust and wrinkled from my fight.
"I was going to surprise you tonight, but I was surprised instead," he sighed before putting away the kit. "So, do I have to ask your school, or are you going to be honest with me?"
"I told you I'm fine,"
"Did you get mug on your way home?"
"No! I swear it was just a little fight."
"Mily, I know I'm not around much but you know you can tell me anything."
I toyed with my sleeve as regret started to settle in. I know I can do that, and he's willing to do anything to protect me. I just don't want to put him in a difficult position, and with how petty Bailey is, I know she's going to do everything she can to torture me even more.
Jake suddenly got up and took a document from the dining table. "Do you remember Oscar?"
I'm glad about the change of subject, and I'm racking my brain trying to remember someone named Oscar. Immediately, my brain goes to one person I wish I never met. "Wait, the slutbag?"
Jake laughed and put the document in front of me. "Come on, let's not call him that, but yeah, that Oscar."
"You still in touch with him? I thought he quit years ago."
"He did, and a few weeks ago, he called and offered me a job in the private sector." Jake pointed at the document, silently asking me to open it.
"So, I'm guessing you take the job?" I asked as I went through the document about the company he mentioned. I mean, he did go home before his service was done.
"I wasn't going to, but then he told me I only work when I'm needed, and I thought it was better than going abroad for two years. Besides I get to spend more time at home and the pay is good." I glanced at my brother and noticed a regret on his face, but it soon disappeared.
Looking back at the company profile, I noticed something about being located in LA. "So, does it mean we're moving out to LA?"
Jake nodded, his eyes a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "Yeah, it does. It's a big change, but it's an opportunity I can't pass up."
The thought of moving to Los Angeles was overwhelming, but given what I'm going through today, I'm getting more excited. Uprooting everything and starting fresh in a sprawling, bustling city like LA felt like Christmas.
"When do we leave?" I asked, trying to sound more anxious than excited.
"End of the month," Jake replied, his voice steady. "That gives us a few weeks to pack up and say our goodbyes."
"What if we start now?" I asked.
His eyes narrowed. "You're really okay with this?"
"Yes, why not. Maybe I can find a boyfriend there because this town is full of idiots."
Jake chuckled before asking, "Dinner?"
"Starving,"
He stepped forward and hugged me tightly. I absolutely love it when he does this, but I can't hold back grimacing, feeling the fabric of my jacket brushed against my wound under it. Jake noticed it and looked into my eyes before his hand removed my jacket. I didn't put up many fights because I knew he would eventually find out. I just hoped he found out when we were already out of town.
The look of terror and guilt in his eyes when he saw seven dots of burns on my left arm made me want to get swallowed by the earth.
"Mily, what happened?" His voice cracked, a mixture of fear and anger barely contained. He traced the outline of one of the burns with a trembling finger. I winced, more from the emotion in his touch than the pain.
I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears. "It's nothing, Jake. It's over now."
"Over? This is not nothing!" His voice rose, echoing off the walls of the small kitchen. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Who did this to you?"
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The memories flooded back—basketball court, the laugh, and the searing pain. I couldn't tell him everything, not yet. "I... I can't talk about it. Not now."
Jake's eyes softened, but the intensity remained. "Did your so called friends did this to you? Is that what this is?"
The second, I had no answers; I just solidified his assumption and looked at my lap, which suddenly seemed very interesting.
"Whatever it is, whoever did this, we'll deal with it. But you need to trust me." Jake held my shoulders, and I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Suddenly, I could hear police sirens from afar getting closer, and what I dreaded the most just got real. especially when they stopped in front of our house and started banging on our door. Jake frowned as he went to answer the door, but I stopped him.
"Let me," is the only thing I said before opening the door.
There are two police officers on the front porch. One is a middle-aged man with a stache and a round belly; his tag is Mendez. The other is a pretty young woman with ash-blond hair in a ponytail; her tag is Hartman. I could feel Jake hovering behind me, and then he said, "Can I help you, officers?"
"Are you Emily Williams?" Hartman asked, looking at me.
"Yes," I said with a defeated look.
"You're under arrest for assault and attempted murder." She said before stepping forward grab my hand to cuff it behind my back as she read me my Miranda rights.
"Excuse me, you can't do that!" Jake tries to stop her, but Mandez quickly gets to him.
After the cuff was in place, I was slowly directed to their cruiser. But I can still hear Jake talking to Mendez.
"Do you even look at her arm? They did this to her! I'm pretty sure they're the one who should be in jail!"
Mendez's response was a murmur, almost drowned out by the noise of the neighbors watching and gossiping from the sideline, but I caught the gist. "It's not my call, man. Let the courts decide."
As I was shoved into the back of the police car, the gravity of the situation started to sink in. The harsh plastic seat bit into my legs and the cold metal of the cuffs dug into my wrists. I stared out the window, trying to block out the fear clawing at my insides.
Jake was still arguing with Mendez, his voice rising in desperation. "She was defending herself! They're the ones that attacked her, for God's sake!"
When the door shut, I couldn't hear much, but I could see the desperation in Jake's face, and my tears fell because I knew it was because of me. I looked away and tried to hold back my cry because it would not help me right now. Hartman and Mendez exchanged a look before we pulled away from the curb, and Jake's figure grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. The only thing on my mind right now is if only I didn't fight them.