Colton had been high on heroin and killed himself and his father in a five-car accident. The cop said it was a miracle all the others involved suffered only minor injuries. He’d questioned the two of them, asking if either of them were aware Colton was using drugs and why—if they knew or suspected—Mr. Novak allowed him to drive. The conversation sent her mother into a hysterical crying jag, ending when Callie told the cop to stop being such a callous ass and led her sobbing mother to the parking lot.
Pacing around in small, wobbly, circles, her mother continued to ramble. “We never saw any signs other than him being a bit moodier than normal and wearing sunglasses more often. I thought it was hormones and teenage angst, you know? Colton’s grades never slipped, he kept up with the same friends, never stopped drawing or painting.”
Callie stood and reached for her mother. Instead of a welcoming embrace, she turned away. Momentarily stunned by the rejection, Callie bit her lip to keep the tears away. “Colton was a fragile soul, Mom. Creative minds usually are—at least that’s what I remember reading somewhere. He didn’t have an outlet to release his anxiety physically like I do.”
“Promise me, Callie—you didn’t know? Never suspected? I know how close you two are—were.”
Drawing strength from the same place she did when running, Callie didn’t even blink or change the tone in her voice. “Promise, Mom. I loved Colton. If I thought something was wrong, I would have told you or Dad.”
Walking over to the edge of the couch, her mother bent down and picked up Colton’s favorite hat. Pulling it to her chest, the tears came again. Without a word, her mother walked up the stairs to her room, leaving a heartbroken Callie alone to deal with the tragedy.
Grabbing her cell off the end table, Callie winced. She’d missed eight calls, had forty-three unread text messages and saw countless notifications from Facebook. The only person she even considered calling was Kevin, yet she couldn’t get her fingers to touch the keys and dial.
She’d always been high-strung, mind constantly spinning with a myriad of thoughts and worries. There was no way she’d be able to carry on any sort of intelligent, coherent conversation with anyone, so she headed upstairs to Colton’s room.
It was time to spy, to search for what she’d obviously missed and to try and reconnect with him.
Callie’s breath caught in her throat when she opened the door. The familiar scent of Colton—a wonderful mixture of spicy cologne, his personal musk, and a hint of acrylic paint—made her gasp. How long would it be, even if they sealed his room tight, before the smell of the person she loved the most in the world disappeared?
Closing the door behind her, Callie flicked on the light. She started in his closet, methodically going through every nook, crevice, and hiding spot, finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Annoyed, she walked over to the desk and touched the screen on his laptop. To her surprise, it turned on.
Colton hadn’t logged out of Facebook.
Callie spent over an hour reading all Colton’s private messages, hoping she’d find one that might give her a clue what was going on inside his mind.
She didn’t. Colton had been careful, never revealing to anyone online anything that could be construed as odd or strange. There were no messages or posts about one thing drug related. No cryptic words suggesting even a hint of being high. The only thing odd was Colton hadn’t been as active online during the past four months.
Right around the time she’d stepped up her training.
Frustrated, Callie stood and stretched, looking around the room one more time.
She hadn’t checked the bed.
Feeling under the mattress, her fingers touched something cold. Clamping her fingers around it, she pulled.
A needle.
“My God, brother. Why?”
In a fit of anger, Callie flipped the mattress, uncovering a drawing pad and journal. She opened the journal up first, scanning the pages. Colton had terrible penmanship for someone who could draw and paint beautiful renditions of anything in front of him.
The Herd
Surrender all you know; let pride and jealousy go.
Only once you fall are you free
To do anything at all.
We all struggle for inner peace, but first we must confront the beast.
That grinding monster that lives within; the dirty evil that makes us sin.
Beaten to a pulp tonight; time to decide if you will stand and fight.
Or will you back down and cower? No, stand up and devour!
No more options; no more time.
Start to lead or fall behind.
Get on your feet, or be led like sheep.
Wiping away the tears streaming down her face, Callie looked at the date. Colton had written the poem only days after Callie had beaten the crap out of Reggie Cartwright, the bully who jumped Colton after school. Though just shy of six feet, Colton wasn’t a fighter. He never had been. Callie had always been the mouth and the brawn. Some of her friends, including Kevin, had given her a hard time about interfering in her brother’s business. When her father found out, he was proud on one hand his daughter was such a tough cookie yet embarrassed and ashamed on the other because his son was weak.
Turning to the back pages, Callie read another poem written only two weeks prior.
The Path of Truth
I can’t find my way
Lost in route for so long.
Without happiness today
God, nirvana will never come along.
Overcome by it all I slide,
There is no more fear;
No more pride.
The monster made it all disappear.
Today I quit believing
It lies and gives no favors.
It is all about deceiving
These hits are no saviors.
If I continue
It will destroy me.
It’s just a taker
That will never set me free.
Callie stared at the poem, dumbstruck. Colton’s words were full of heartbreak and fear. She couldn’t believe she never realized how much emotional pain filled her brother’s mind. Hands shaking, Callie flipped to the last page, written only three days ago.
White Knight
Your honey-filled words dripped sweetly into my ear; I heard.
Your delicious aroma wafted gently into my nostrils; I smelled.
Your stunning visuals opened my tear-stained eyes; I saw.
Your tender caresses glided easily through my fingers; I felt.
You slid so gracefully inside my sad, pain-filled mind; I became.
I turned into someone else; an empty husk of bones; I’m lost.
Your words seduced me, and I can’t tune them out; I scream.
Your scent sickens me, yet I inhale deeply; I drown.
Powder turns to liquid and goes smoothly in; I lose.
I am no more; a monster now resides. You win.
“Oh, Colton,” Callie sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in such trouble? God, I’m so sorry I ignored the signs, but you should have come to me!”
Callie opened the drawing pad, surprised to find it only had one picture. A dark blue butterfly was on the ground, its wings tattered and torn. Next to it was a needle, a set of ominous, orange-red eyes stared from a dark sky above. Flecks of paint starting at the top down to the still, delicate creature showed the trajectory of its fall. Colton had titled it “Ruined Wings.”
Hugging the journal and pad to her chest, Callie sank to the floor, sobbing at her brother’s pain. Sadness and remorse competed for control, heartbroken she’d missed her brother slowly dying while she’d been focused on only achieving her own, selfish pursuits.
The emotional turmoil inside Callie’s heart, the pain of losing her best friend and her amazing father, drove her to near hysteria. She wanted to scream, wanted to hit something—unleash the fury at the senselessness of it
all.
“No, I want to hurt someone. And as soon as I find out who sold Colton heroin, I will.”
CHAPTER TWO
Two Weeks Later
“Callie, don’t do this. It won’t bring them back.”
Ignoring Kevin’s plea, Callie finished lacing her running shoes then glanced at her watch. It was ten p.m. Kevin’s curfew was eleven, so she had to hurry. “You think I don’t know that?”
Moving to block her path to the bedroom door, Kevin stood firm. “I won’t let you go all vigilante on me like some fictional comic book character. This is real life, and confronting De’Shawn is dangerous, not to mention incredibly stupid. There are other ways—healthier ways—to deal with your pain and grief. This isn’t one of them.”
“Get out of my way, Kevin,” Callie replied, her voice taut with tension. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Does your mother? If not, maybe we should go ask her opinion about her seventeen-year-old daughter’s plans to find a drug dealer and beat his ass? Maybe also ask her thoughts about you turning down the scholarship to U of A too?” Kevin countered.
The anger that had been Callie’s constant companion for over two weeks, urging her to do things her heart knew was wrong, took over. “Kevin? If you breathe one word about those things to anyone, especially my mother, we’re done. I mean it. She’s barely hanging on as it is after the funeral. Picking out clothes for Colton and Dad to wear, for eternity, broke her spirit. She’s been so barred out she doesn’t even know what day it is. She said Dr. Brunson upped her medication, but I doubt that because she hasn’t gone to see him. It’s just an excuse she’s concocted, relieving her from having to deal with this shit. I’m not leaving her alone and attending college over four hours away! I’ll just go to UALR. She needs me.”
“I agree—she needs you to be here and safe—which leads me back to my original point.”
“I’m doing what she can’t, which is dish out a bit of revenge to the bastard who ruined our lives. Move.”
“De’Shawn didn’t force Colton at gunpoint to use, CeeCee. That was his choice. It was also his choice to get behind the wheel when high. A bit of your dad’s fault, too, since he’d had a few beers and let his son drive.”
Fury rendered Callie mute. For a few seconds, the two—who’d known each other since fifth grade and had been dating for three years—stared at each other, neither one budging. Kevin was three inches taller than Callie and outweighed her by at least forty pounds.
She didn’t care nor did she back down.
“Fine, I know that look and when I’ve lost an argument. But I’m coming with you,” Kevin muttered while moving away from the door. “You’ll need some muscle. De’Shawn’s got a bad rep and hangs out with some major thugs.”
“No. This is my choice, my burden. Not yours,” Callie muttered as she stepped into the dark hallway. “I just need you to say I was with you if ever asked by anyone.”
“You wouldn’t have told me your plans unless secretly, you wanted my help,” Kevin remarked as they made their way downstairs. “Am I wrong?”
Grimacing, Callie answered, “I hate it when you pick apart my words and actions.”
Grabbing her arm, Kevin pulled Callie closer. “You used to love my analytical brain. And I’ve always loved your spirit, your drive. All the fire, the real grit and determination to get things done others would find too scary. You have this insane ability to focus on a goal and stop at nothing to achieve it. Did you forget what you accomplished two weeks ago on the track? You trained for years then threw it all away! That’s not the girl I love. That’s the action of a distraught, grief-stricken person not thinking straight.”
A pang of regret punched Callie in the gut. Coach Patterson had tried several times to reach out to her, especially when he found out she’d rejected the scholarship, yet she ignored him. The accolades for the win—and the win itself—seemed pointless and trivial now. Colton was dead, and since he’d been the reason she’d pushed herself so hard, why bother? “None of that matters now.”
“You’re wrong, CeeCee. You, and what you’ve done, matter. To me. To your mom. All those characteristics are what drew me to you. But this? You’ve crossed over into someplace else...turned into someone I don’t recognize. You’re letting your emotions take over, which is why I think you told me. A part of you knew I would be the voice of reason, the logical side, talking you down before you do something you’ll regret later.”
Pulling away, Callie walked to the front door. “Wrong. I’ll regret sitting on my ass and doing nothing for my brother and father later in life. Things can’t get any worse, Kevin. They can’t. This is what I need to do to move on.”
Catching up to her, Kevin whispered, “You’ve always fought battles that weren’t yours to fight. Sometimes things just happen in life and we have to accept them and move on. Learn not to make the same choices or mistakes. Bad things happen to good people, too.”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me, Kevin. It’s easy to preach that crap when it isn’t happening to you or your family. De’Shawn Majors lured my brother into a world he never should have been in.”
“So what, you’re going to stroll up to his place, knock on the door, give him a piece of your mind and he’s going to have some epiphany and change his ways? Apologize for destroying your world and attempt to make amends or give up the lifestyle he’s chosen? It’s nothing but fantasy and fiction Callie. He’ll eat you alive and spit out your bones.”
“Do you really think I’m that dense, Kevin? I know nothing I say to the sleazebag will hurt him. He’s probably burned too many brain cells to realize what he’s done anyway.”
A weird look crossed Kevin’s face. He took a tentative step backward. “Are you…planning on killing him?”
Despite the dire subject matter, Callie laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d ask if you’re high. What, do really think I’ve turned into a sadistic killer overnight? I’m just going to tell him what a lowlife bastard he is, get him to admit out loud he sold Colton drugs while I secretly record the conversation on my phone, and then take it to the police.”
Kevin looked doubtful. “I call bullshit. You plan on confronting him, letting that mouth of yours run wild, provoking him until he attacks you. I know you think you can handle yourself, but you’re wrong, CeeCee. Let the police deal with him. That’s what they’re trained to do.”
Callie grabbed the door handle. “This discussion is over. Try and stop me and I’ll just wait and do it when you aren’t around. I’ll be back before eleven. If Mom wakes up, just tell her I went for a run to clear my head.”
“CeeCee, wait!”
Ignoring Kevin’s plea, Callie burst out the door. He tried to catch her, but Callie was faster. She fled into the night, feet pounding the street as though the devil was right behind her. Kevin’s footfalls stopped after the first two blocks.
Callie never looked back, determined to confront De’Shawn Majors.
Stopping at the intersection of 8th and Cross, Callie was breathing hard from running the entire time. A siren wailed in the distance, and several dogs howled in protest. A light breeze fluttered through her damp hair. Callie made her way toward 139 8th Street, moving toward the two-bedroom HUD house where De’Shawn Majors lived.
Four days ago, when Callie confronted Colton’s best friend Richard after the funeral, she’d berated him until he cracked. Finally, Richard admitted he knew about Colton’s drug use, where he got it from, and how he’d even tried it a few times. Richard sobbed, begging Callie to forgive him. When she wouldn’t, he’d gotten angry and said it was her fault Colton sought out drugs.
“Do you have any idea how humiliated Colton was when you beat up Reggie Cartwright? It made him feel like a loser—one who needed his sister to fight his battles. He loved you but hated you at the same time. God, he wanted more than anything to be tough like you, but it wasn’t who he was. You beat up a bully, but you never saw how you
r actions beat him up mentally too.”
The words pierced Callie’s soul, making her angrier than she’d ever been.
More fuel to the ever-growing fires inside her mind.
The only way she knew how to put out the flames was unleash the rage inside her on De’Shawn.
Only three houses away, Callie slowed down, gaze scanning the unfamiliar area. She remembered De’Shawn from junior high yet hadn’t seen him in years after he dropped out. He’d been on the track team, too, and was an amazing runner until he tested positive for steroids. Rumors around school swirled about De’Shawn joining a gang, getting arrested multiple times, and his mother going to prison for dealing drugs.
The sounds and smells of the dark street made her bravado from earlier disappear. “What the hell am I doing?” Callie whispered. “Kevin’s right: this won’t bring Dad or Colton back. Maybe I should tell the cops what Richard said and let them handle things? If De’Shawn is truly as bad as his reputation, they already know about him anyway. I won’t confront him. I’ll just get a video of illegal activity and take it to the police.”
Tamping down her fears at the scary sounds and weird smells of the night, Callie fiddled with her phone and turned on the video camera.
“Girl, I ain’t seen muscles like that on any of the other ho’s around here. I want me some. How much?”
Spinning around, Callie found herself face-to-face with a man at least four inches taller than her 5’11” frame. He smelled odd. It was a weird combination of alcohol, cigarettes and a hint of skunk. The freaky grin on his face while licking his lips made Callie’s stomach clench.
Finding her voice, Callie shot back, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, mister. I’m not a hooker. Just out for a run on a nice evening and got turned around.”
Stepping closer, the man’s beady eyes took in every inch of Callie’s body. “No one comes around here unless looking to score one way or another. You’re one of those rich kids from Hillcrest, ain’t ya? Snuck outta the house to get some relief from your stressful life?”
Ruined Wings Page 2
