In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Are They Broken"

Nine days. 

Nine miserable, damning days had passed and she still didn't know what to think. 

More honestly...she didn't want to think about that night. It brought too many terrible truths to the surface—ones she preferred to keep deeply buried.

Charlie pushed harder, lengthening her stride. The late afternoon sun beat down on her, sweat dripping down her face as she ran. She knew she should be sleeping, but sleep had become rare and less than restful recently.

It was better to move.

Better to move and not think about what he had said—about her fear that he was right.

Charlie's feet pounded against the concrete, each step reverberating up through her legs. Her tank top clung to her, the humidity making the air thick in her mouth and throat.

You wanted me to.

The words echoed in her skull with every step.

She had wanted Remi to do something, and it made her sick even now to think of the small swell of satisfaction she'd felt when he'd broken that man's hand. The brutality of his actions had brought her a small measure of serenity, scaring the hell out of her.

I really am no better than my parents.

The thought made her feel like she was suffocating and she ran harder, her arms pumping at her sides, her feet barely touching the ground before she was throwing herself into the next stride. The turn onto her street loomed closer, threatening her with the end of her three-mile run and the relieving exhaustion it brought.

What kind of person was satisfied by another's pain? Even if she'd hated it after the fact, even if she'd been disgusted. She had been shocked by what he'd done, but he'd done it on her behalf.

And she didn't know if that made her hate Remi more...or if his actions had inspired something else. Some other feeling she didn't want to examine too closely.

They needed to talk. More than anything, she just needed to talk to him.

Charlie rounded the corner, head down as she sprinted the last two blocks to her house. Her head came up and she skidded to a halt in shock, nearly sending herself sprawling onto the concrete. 

She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to face him yet.

A red Lamborghini was sitting on the curb, a tall silhouette waiting at her door. Charlie stood and stared at him, sweat running into her eyes, the stitch in her ribs screaming with every ragged breath she sucked in.

She watched, dumbstruck, as he kicked at the door, the loud thudding enough to make her jump. Her vision cleared and she darted forward when she realized he wasn't alone.

"Remi?" she managed through her panting breaths.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening as he took in her sweaty, disheveled state. Then his gaze darted warily up the street, his jaw setting in agitation.

"We need to get him inside," he hissed, looking along the street again and turning slightly. "Before someone sees."

Charlie sucked in a shocked gasp when she saw the man he was half carrying.

Blood covered his face, his white shirt covered in bright crimson splotches. He was barely conscious, only upright because Remi was keeping him that way. As she watched, more blood dripped from his face to his shirt.

"Move," she rasped, digging in her pocket for her keys. She sidled past him and unlocked the door.

Remi barely waited for her to get out of the way before he was dragging the bloodied man across the threshold. He headed toward the couch but Charlie snapped, "No! This way."