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Lucy shook in my arms, crying soundlessly. She knew what had happened to her troublemaking new boyfriend. We were frozen there in our guilt and fear for precious long minutes before the sound of the men talking faded away.
This was it. Our chance to go. We had to do it now, before they changed their minds about searching for the ‘girlfriend’.
We were only a few feet from the side door I'd used to sneak in. If we could creep out, we could make a run for it or hide in one of the abandoned buildings that lined this seedy end of the shore.
“Lucy, we have to get out of here now, run and never look back.”
“They killed Miguel, didn’t they? They killed him,” Lucy mumbled, the shock sending her gaze hazy.
“Yes, and they’ll kill us, too, if they find us. That’s why we have to leave before they hear us,” I explained as patiently as I could, trying to navigate through her shock.
She nodded, her big teary eyes staring into mine. My heart clenched at how incredibly young she seemed at that moment. She looked like my baby sister again.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Together, we crept out of our hiding place. Shadows seemed to move, pouncing at us. Lucy whimpered, trying her hardest to stifle her tears. Every step through the dilapidated warehouse felt like a target was pinned to my back. My skin crawled, my heart pounded.
Finally, we shuffled our way toward a side door and out into the dark, cool night.
It wasn’t until we were in a cab home, speeding away from the warehouse, that I realized I’d been holding my breath. My head hurt, and my lungs ached. Straightening my hands from claws took effort, but I managed it. I cradled Lucy’s head on my lap and stroked her hair. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
For the first time in a long time, I had no idea if those words would turn out to be true.
Da’s voice spoke in my head, his old catchphrase turning in circles and holding me in a warm embrace.Worry about that later, kid. Tomorrow, you could be dead.
Oh, Da. You have no idea.
* * *
I joltedawake to the sound of sobs.
I was up and shuffling out of my messy bedroom before I could blink the sleep from my eyes.
Reality rushed in on the beams of fall light flooding the small kitchen of the apartment I shared with Lucy. The sound of taxis honking and the hubbub of the city filled my senses, but even that couldn’t drown out the sounds of anguish.
Our Southside neighborhood wasn’t glamorous, or even safe for that matter, but it was near the casino I worked at and the hospital that I did my clinical rotations in, part of my student experience, wasn’t too far, either. With our limited budget, I couldn’t afford to live closer, and I also didn’t have time for a longer commute, so we were stuck in this grim apartment by the highway. If you stood on the roof and leaned over the broken safety barrier way, you could almost see the shore.
I knocked softly on Lucy’s door and waited. I traced a finger over the old wooden plaque on the door, the one she’d made and held on to since our time at the group home. Glittery pink polish spelled out her full name. Lucy. A few faded, peeling stickers dotted the corners, but that had been the extent of the craft supplies she’d been given to carve a little place of her own.
“Lucy, I’m coming in,” I called when she failed to open the door.
My sister was curled in a ball on the bed, her face red and puffy with tears. I hadn’t heard her crying last night. I’d fallen into a kind of deathly deep sleep that I’d learned how to do as a nursing student for the last five years. The idea was to sleep when you could, no matter what was going on around you.
I sat on the bed and reached for her hand. “Hey, have you been up all night?”
“I can’t stop hearing that awful sound over and over,” Lucy sniffled.
I grabbed a tissue and handed it to her, watching as she roughly blew her nose. She was right, after all. The last twenty-four hours had been a living nightmare. She’d seen her boyfriend get killed. She’d been there when it happened. It could have been her, too. It was terrifying.
No, Lucy was reacting appropriately. It was me who wasn’t. I was reacting out of shock and carefully honed survival skills that demanded I power through this. But deep down, a gaping chasm of panic threatened to engulf me.
“And now he’s gone…” Lucy whispered, her tears starting up again.
I leaned in and hugged her. Sure, I hadn't liked Miguel for Lucy at all, and I'd never forgive him for trying to sell her out to save his own skin. But still, I didn't like to see Lucy hurting, and I wanted to help her through this.
“I know, it’s so hard. I’m sorry,” I said softly.
As I held my heartbroken little sister, I realized that I'd become a bit hardened to death. Going through nursing school and doing rotations in the ER could do that to you. I’d felt the fragility of life, and I’d seen that barrier break so often that it rarely took me off guard anymore. Last night had been different, though. It wasn’t slipping away in a hospital bed or flatlining on a surgeon’s table while medical professionals worked to save you. Last night had been violent. I couldn’t get the horror out my head.
