Healing took less time than anyone expected. Bitter's arm was forming a nice scab and her resistance to staying in bed grew stronger. To Bitter's dismay, neither Spot or Irish Flare had forgotten that she was holding something back from them when it came to Shooter.
"For the last time I don't know anything that you already know, so leave me the fuck alone!" Bitter screamed at the great leader of Brooklyn slamming the door in his face and running a bath.
"At least this bed rest thing has helped me clear my head," Bitter spoke to herself out loud, ignoring Spot's voice yelling at her through the door to stop her stubbornness and tell him what he wanted to know. She sighed again as she slowly removed her clothes, careful not to open her healing wound and lowered herself into the warm water of the porcelain tub.
Pulling her head under water, she found it helped shut out the noise Spot was making outside of the bathroom, but she couldn't get rid of the information he was after, no matter how hard she tried.
"Bittah…listen to me will ya?" Shooter's eyes were full of hurt as she spoke.
"And why should I? You've been lying to me Shootah… I trusted you… You promised you'd never do anything like that again… but what you did today, that's the last straw. It's me or them Shootah, you can't mix your old and you new lives… you know that," Bitter couldn't bare to look at her, to look at the person she had trusted all her secrets to, the one person she thought would never betray her.
"Bittah…" Shooter begged for her forgiveness, for her help, for any reaction but the one her friend had next.
"Don't use your tricks on me, I'm not as stupid as I used to be, I see right through you…" with that said, Bitter took one last look at her supposed best friend. Without hesitation, Bitter turned and walked away, out of the dark alley, past blood-stained walls, and forever leaving the friend she had once known.
Emerging from the hot water with a gasp, Bitter steadied her racing heart with deep breathing. She knew what she had to do. She knew she couldn't keep this a secret any longer. Shooter had taken it too far and it was due time that Bitter stopped defending her, hiding her secrets. It was time someone else knew.
Sitting on Spot's bed, Bitter found her courage suddenly disappearing. Closing her eyes, she tried to find the exact words she was missing. A warm hand covered hers suddenly and she found the bright blue eyes of the Brooklyn boy staring into hers. Blushing a little, she let his hand stay where it was, her voice finding its way out of her.
"Shooter has a past… I mean we all do… but she was in a gang… one of the more brutal gangs… She did jobs… and well they resurfaced… they had gone under for a few years, but now they're reforming…" Bitter breathed in deeply, trying to formulate the best way to tell Spot.
"A few weeks ago, Shooter started disappearing… sometimes a few days at a time. I knew something was up, so I decided to follow her one night." Images from that night overcame her causing a shiver to climb up her spine.
"To say the least… I found out what I didn't want to believe… she had rejoined the gang… knowing I would never have approved of it, she wasn't going to tell me. That's the night she disappeared…"
Spot held Bitter close to him as she sat looking hollowly at the wall in front of her. He wished to play with her hair, to run his fingers along her neckline, to comfort her with kisses… but he wouldn't dare. Holding her was enough for him. "So what's in Manhattan?" Spot asked gently.
Bitter finally turned to him, her eyes a clouded green glaring into his uninvitingly. "I don't know…" she stood as she spoke. Spontaneously she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry about me, I'm going to be just fine…". With a brief smile, Bitter exited and resigned to her bunk for the night, unwilling to talk to anyone until morning.