Page 132 of Run
“Hey, Fonz!” I call out the door, and he appears immediately. “Can you clean Ari up?” I hand him the washcloth, looking back at Ari when I add, “I can’t do it one more time. I can’t stomach it.” Pushing past him, when I reach the door, I turn back to Ari. “You should call your best friend. Sophie is worried sick about you. You used her as part of your lie, right? To cover for you today?”
She gives an embarrassed nod before I storm down the hallway. I hear Fonz call my name, along with Ari’s broken sob.
“Ethan?” Fonz yells. “Ethan? What are you going to do?”
The door slams behind me and in three strides I’m pulling open the door to the Jeep. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” I say to the universe.
The drive to our old neighborhood is a blur of houses and cars whizzing by. There are no streetlights on these back roads, and with just the illumination of my headlights, it’s like I’m barreling down a never-ending tunnel.
My body hums with energy. It’s white-hot anger and pitch-black sadness.
I pull into the gravel driveway in a hurry—dust, dirt, and pebbles kicking up and hitting the sides of the Jeep. Before I know it I’m out of the vehicle and up the three steps of the old wooden stoop on the side of the house. I try the handle but the door is locked. Without hesitation I rear back and kick it. It only takes three strikes before the door gives way and swings open.
“Axel!” I growl through the darkened house. “Where are you, you piece of shit?” I swivel and check the kitchen behind me, see the broken kitchen chair Ari spoke of earlier, and my vision goes fuzzy on the peripheral. Sweeping my eyes across the living room, I take in the same old couch, saggy and faded. I even see Ari’s old sofa bed in the corner. Stalking down the hallway, I scream for the animal who kept Ari caged all these years. “Axel? Where you hiding at, you fucking coward?” I swing open the door to the bathroom, which is empty. Then make my way to each of the rooms, which are also vacant.
I go back to the living room and look out the big picture window, and realize Axel’s car isn’t in the driveway. But the old Accord is. It’s sitting propped up on bricks.
Pacing through the living room, my hands shake with fury, fear, and adrenaline.
Finally, unable to contain it any longer, I let out a roar as I grab a kitchen chair and smash it against the wall. It shatters into pieces. I turn and grip the edge of the sad little table and upend it, sending it toppling to its side. Breathing heavy, I turn and make a beeline for the television, hoisting it up in my arms and sending it soaring halfway across the room—wires ripping from the wall and taking plaster with it.
Still unsatisfied, I stalk back into Axel’s bedroom. I grab something—I don’t even know what it is—off the dresser and hurl it at the mirror hanging on the wall, causing a spectacular shattering sound to ring out as fragments of reflective glass go flying everywhere. I feel the tingles as some little pieces bite myface and arms. Turning, I see his bed, and think of all the times he tucked himself in here, warm and cozy, while Ari was out in the living room on a glorified cot. I think of that smug bastard passing out in here after beating Ari within an inch of her life. Before I know it, I’m flipping the mattress, then the box spring, sending them toppling against the wall and sliding to the floor.
Heading back into the main part of the house, I pause in front of Ari’s old day bed, then sink down and sit on the edge of it. Running my hands over the rumpled sheets beside me, I think of the young girl who would hide under these sheets and secretly text me, and how my stomach would do flips every time I saw her name pop up on my phone. And how he almost killed her when he saw those texts.
I look across the room and out through the window at the Accord. Without thought, I make my way out the door, jump down the few steps and head right for it. An old aluminum baseball bat sits against the side of the garage, and I grab it, squeezing it tightly in my hands, loosening and tightening my grip as I approach the vehicle, rearing back my elbow and swinging.
I make contact with the rear-driver’s side window, and it implodes with a shrill. Thankfully, the neighbor’s house looks empty so no one can hear it. Next, I walk around to the front and this time bring the bat up over my head and slam it down like a sledgehammer, striking the dashboard. The glass cracks into a giant spider’s web, and I have to strike it two more times before it finally gives way and crumbles.
Walking around the car, repeatedly swinging the bat, I watch the body crumple and dent and curl in on itself before my eyes.
Finally, sweating and out of breath, I hurl the bat aside, sending it flying somewhere into the yard, and sink to my knees. I fall onto my elbows and tuck my head into my hands as I let out a wail. Grabbing handfuls of broken gravel, feeling it pokethrough my skin, I let it fall through my fingers. After a moment, I sit back on my heels and look out at the empty field where, earlier tonight, Ari ran and sought shelter from Axel.
He’s a monster. A villain. A fucking animal.
But I’m bigger now. I’m bigger than him, and faster, and stronger.
Slowly, I rise to my feet and walk over to the stoop where I perch myself and wait.
CHAPTER 42
ARI
“He ran,” I say to Fonz.
“He’ll be back. He may have to make a stop in prison first, but he’ll be back.”
Fonz and I are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, our backs against the arm rests. Every once in a while he tries playing toesies with me to lighten the mood.
We have the curtains open as we look out into the pitch black, waiting for Ethan’s Jeep to pull into the driveway. The only light coming from inside the house is from the TV, which is on mute. It’s been hours since Ethan stormed out of here. After he left, Fonz helped me in the shower. It was embarrassing and humbling, and I think a little disturbing for my dear friend. He helped me out of my pants and socks, and I turned away fromhim to remove my bra before he gently washed my hair and back as I stood before him in my underwear and cried. When I turned around so he could wash my face, I saw his haunted eyes.
That was the first time Fonz ever had to clean me up. It was always Ethan who dealt with the immediate wreckage Axel left behind. Fonz only saw the day-after bruises. That is, until the attack.
I’m now in one of Ethan’s T-shirts. Fonz tried to cover me with a blanket, but I refused it. I don’t want the comfort. I hurt Ethan. I hurt him so badly, so completely, and I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me. I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I have a good idea, and I’m terrified of what the consequences may be.
Fonz’s phone beeps with a text. “Is it him?” I ask in a rush.
He shakes his head as he looks at his phone. “Matt.”
