He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn around. I can see wisps of smoke curling around him and I know he’s smoking a cigarette. He did say he smoked.

“Harley, please wait!” I shout.

“Fuck off!” he yells back.

I grit my teeth and run faster. “Please, just listen to me, okay?” I pant as I get closer. I slow to a fast walk behind him and reach for his arm. He jerks out of my grip and turns to glare at me.

I stop in my tracks. His eyes are black, his expression so dark I melt into myself. He really does hate me. I swallow. 

“I didn’t know,” I finally say.

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t!” I angrily swipe at my cheeks. “I know this is something she does, and it isn’t right, I know that.”

“But you went along with it anyway?”

I hesitate. “At first, yeah,” I admit. He scoffs and shakes his head, turning to leave again. I grab his arm and make him listen. “I said at first! But then you mentioned Robin and…and I couldn’t do it! Okay, I couldn’t play with you like that. No one should.”

“But you did, Windy,” he says, biting at each word as they come out. “You did hit on me, after everything I told you. After you put on this big show about how much you care and acted like you were my frie—” 

“I had to!” I shout. 

He stares at me, his expression stony.

“Look, read all this if you don’t believe me.” I yank out my phone, pull up Nikki’s messages and shove it in his face. It takes him a second but his eyes move from my face to my phone. He takes it and I can see his jaw clench as he reads. “If I didn’t do something, she was going to take you. I couldn’t let that happen, Harley, I’m sorry.”

His eyes slide back to my face.

“I didn’t know she’d tried going after you before, I swear. I didn’t know she knew who you were. All I knew was I couldn’t…” I drop my gaze to the side, hugging myself. “I couldn’t let her take you,” I finish in a low voice. “You belong to Robin, not to me, or her, or anyone else. She was going to hurt you for her own fun and I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve been through enough.”

He says nothing. This is apparently how he reacts to everything. Silence. We stand there for what seems like hours before he finally hands back my phone. I take it, bringing my gaze back up to his face. His eyes are no longer filled with hate, but he still has no trust in me, he still doesn’t like me.

I deserve nothing, I deserve anger.

I deserve nothing, I deserve anger.

I deser—

“You’re the first person to say that to me.” His voice is low. 

“Say what?”

“That I’ve been through enough. That I still belong to him.”

“Well,” I mutter, shifting my weight. “You do. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean your love had to die with him.”

Again, another long pause. It’s me that breaks it this time. “If it helps at all, and I’m sure it won’t, but that’s not the first time she’s used me like that. Maybe not like that exactly, but…she’s…” I close my eyes, searching for the word. He’s the one that finds it.

“Manipulative.”

I nod.

“Why do you hang out with her, then?”

I cling tighter to myself. “Because she’s the only friend I have,” I admit quietly. “No one wants to be friends with someone like…me…” I bite my lip, tasting blood. 

“So you’d rather stay in an abusive friendship than try and find someone who will actually give a damn about you?”

It’s my turn to say nothing. Mom has said the same thing a hundred times before. Nikki takes advantage of me, hurts me, then comes back apologizing and saying she’ll be better to me, only to do it all again. The sick thing is, I see the pattern, and I allow it to continue. Because, just like Harley said, I’d rather do that than risk finding someone who could do worse. 

Or have no one at all.

For someone with my “issues,” what other options do I have?

“She never tried to hit on me,” he says. My head pops up and I catch his gaze. “She hits on gay guys because she believes she can turn them straight. She’s a bigot with twisted ideas on homosexuality. What has fueled that belief is the number of gay guys she believes she’s fucked.”

My eyes widen. “But—”

“The ones she’s ‘conquered,’” he uses air quotes on the last word, “are either bi or pan. They would have fucked her anyway. You can’t turn someone’s sexuality around, Windy, it’s impossible. None of us are confused, especially not at this stage in our lives.”

“That thing you called her,” I say. “A um..a f—” I can’t even say it. The word feels dirty on my tongue.

His lips twitch. “A fag hag?”

I nod. “What is that?”

“A woman who goes after gay guys,” he says with a shrug. “Most of the time it’s just as friends. They’d rather hang out with us than hetero people. That’s fine for the most part, but she takes it to an extreme level in how she twists it.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, that’s not what I am.”

“I know.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I really…I do like you, Harley, but not like that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t want to play with you. I understand if you never want to see me again. Probably better that way, anyway.” I pull my coat tighter around me as a chill breeze nips at my neck. “You wouldn’t want to be my friend if you knew how screwed up I really am.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m pretty sure you don’t believe that.”

I bring my gaze to his. “Trust me, I do.”

“Why, because that’s what Nikki Halsey has led you to believe?” 

I drop my eyes. That seems to be answer enough because he sighs.

“I thought so.” He steps toward me and I look up. He really is tall. I think he said he was six-two or something ridiculous like that. “Nikki isn’t your friend, Windy. She never has been. She’s a manipulative bitch who found a weakness in you and exploits it for her own gain. You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. But trust me when I tell you you’re better off without her in your life.”

I nod slowly, accepting his words. There’s nothing else I can do, especially when I know he’s right. Even my therapist says I’m too easily manipulated and gullible. It’s only because of my mental age, so it’s not like it’s entirely my fault.

Right?

“Choose your friends better, Windy,” Harley says gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. “There are people out there who actually would like to be a real friend to you if you give them a chance.”

“Like you?”

He gives me a small half-grin. “Maybe.” He pats my cheek gently. “Go home, get some rest. Sober up a bit more and get your head right.”

I can’t help but cock an eyebrow. “You should take your own advice.”

His grin falls and his hands go to his jacket pockets. “That’s not going to happen for a long time,” he says. “I meant it when I said life feels wrong without Robin. He was my life, my everything. Now that he’s gone…” He swallows hard and scuffs his toe on the concrete sidewalk. “Anyway,” he mutters. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Me, too,” I say, my own hands clenched within my coat pockets. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He gives me one last parting grin before he turns and walks down the deserted sidewalk. 

It’s only now that I’m glad there was literally no one around to witness all of that. I’ve been under the microscope too much already in the last week. 

As I turn to head down the sidestreet that will lead me home, I rub at my neck, the bruises still tender from where the rope had been. Did he see them? Would he have said anything if he had? My hair had been covering them the whole time, though.

I keep my head down, my hair billowing around my face. My phone vibrates in my back pocket but I ignore it. I already know it’s Nikki, probably wondering where I am or something. A few seconds later the vibration pattern changes and I know it’s not Nikki. I pull it out and see it’s a call from Mom. My chin trembles and whatever composure I’d regained talking to Harley drops.

“Mommy?” I say when I answer, my voice warbling.

“Windy, where are you?” she demands, obviously sick to death with worry. “You turned your tracking off.”

No, I didn’t. I don’t know how to. Nikki did that.

“I’m down the street from Jackie’s,” I say, sniffling back my tears. “Can you come get me?”

“Your dad’s already out looking for you. Is there a coffee shop or something nearby where you can wait safely?”

I glance around and spot a Starbucks. I tell her and she says to wait there until Dad shows up. I hang up and head over, dropping onto one of the uncomfortable green bench seats. I begin rocking back and forth, my anxiety high, my nerves frayed, and my mind whirling. My only friend used me as a weapon against someone who didn’t deserve it. And the man she sent me after turned out to be more understanding of my situation than I deserved.

I hope I see him again, though. He really is so kind. Kinder than an immature teenager like me deserves.

My name is Windy Malcom, I’m twenty-three years old, and I live in Redbrick.

My name is Windy Malcom, I’m twenty-three years old, and I live in Redbrick.

My name is…

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