Chapter Nine

A/N: My dream husband, Aaron McGruder, owns this. I do not. Sorry to disappoint you…

"People have to suffer before they can risk doing what they love." Chuck Palhanuik

Huey

I was going to kill her. I couldn't wait to find her, rip her limb from limb, and just destroy Jazmine's body and hide it.

She wasn't in the library. I checked the auditorium, the bathroom, and there was no way she was in detention; she never showed up. We had a project to work on, but all she wanted to do was disappear? And that was fine with me. Really, it was. But Professor Elliot made this about fifty percent of our grade, and if she didn't show with the rest of our part, there was no way that I would be able to make a passing grade on it. Then, I would get a C average. I shuddered at the thought of it.

I checked the auditorium again, just to make sure, but she was nowhere in sight. Arielle looked up at me just as Mrs. Wells looked up and began to freak out, yelling about me interrupting the moments of theater. She excused herself, her eyes concerned as she walked out in the hallway. I snorted at her, still a little angry with the way that she dumped me for some other guy.

But on the inside, I knew that I was also confused that I didn't hurt like I should have. It was almost like a pin prick. Even losing Jazmine's friendship had hurt much more than losing Arielle to some other guy. But looking at Arielle now, I knew that she was better off with whoever the lucky guy could be. She glowed in a way that she never had, and she looked a little calmer. As calm as Arielle could get, anyways.

She smiled at me before looking down, no doubt sensing my anger with her. Her body language grew more and more solemn as she looked up at me, "Looking for Jazmine?"

"Yeah," I told her as I looked at her. Her eyes shifted from mine again. Something was wrong, but I was going to give her a chance to explain, "Professor Elliot gave us another project to work on."

"Oh," She nodded as she fidgeted awkwardly.

"Have you seen her?" I looked up at Arielle before adding more to my sentence, "Because I really need the other half of my project."

"Yeah," Arielle stepped forward, her eyes surprisingly damp as she finally lifted her eyes from the floor. It was quiet, since it was after school, "But there's a problem, Huey. I think she's really going through something."

"And since when do you care?" My eyes narrowed at the girl in front of me. Arielle grabbed a braid then tucked it behind her ear as I kept on talking, "You've always hated her."

"I don't hate her, Huey, but the girl," Arielle sighed as she took a deep breath, "You've always liked her more than me, but now, it's gotten to the point that you love her more than you love me. But the thing is she loves somebody else or something else, at least."

"And you care because," I prodded her as I looked around us, but the hallway was empty. All that was around us were the beige lockers the school provided us, and a single door in the hallway that was known for slowing down student traffic during the day.

"I think that she's drinking," Arielle teared up again, "And she shouldn't be. I'm scared that she'll do something that she'll really regret. I just don't want her to hurt herself."

"And how would she," I paused as her words sunk in, "Wait, you think she's an alcoholic? What the hell would make you think that?"

"She's been carrying around big bottles of alcohol with her in her bag," Arielle sniffled as she looked at me, "And I confronted her about it a little while ago, "and she got all defensive. I know what an alcoholic looks like, and she's well on her way."

"And you didn't tell anybody before this?" I wanted to scream at her, but I kept my voice calm. She still flinched as I got closer to her, "How do you even know what an alcoholic looks like?"

"My mother," Arielle's voice got dangerously low, "is one."

Uh-oh, I had just gotten in dangerous waters that I sure couldn't swim in, "Arielle-"

"She always made excuses, she was violent, and she was always so angry with me," Arielle sobbed as I stood there awkwardly before pulling her into my chest, letting her cry, "And I liked her better on heroin, because then she was nicer."

I was shocked that I had never really known this about Arielle, but there's more to people than what I think, I suppose. I don't know everything, after all, but I do know that Arielle isn't lying to me. She is crying, after all.

"That sucks," I snorted as she laughed, the hiccups hitting quickly, "But maybe Jazmine didn't drink it."

"I hope not," Arielle told me, but then her eyes widened as she realized something, "Huey, I think she did."

"What do you mean," My eyes narrowed all over again as I pulled her out at an arms length, "You think she's been drinking again?"

"She was slurring when she was talking to me," Arielle face palmed herself, "And she was acting so defensive about it that I just told her that I would be here for her. What if she drove home? What if she hurts somebody?"

"Come on, Arielle," I snorted as I glanced at her, a little annoyed, "Jazmine isn't that stupid."

"She's been letting Tasha run all over her, she stays with Kevin even though he cheats on her, she doesn't talk to anybody, and she's using alcohol to cope with whatever is wrong with her," Arielle told me as she looked up at me, stamping her feet, "That is stupid!"

"So you think," I winced as I pondered the thought, "That she believes she won't get hurt. What does she think that she's doing, then, Arielle! I mean she's not dumb enough to forget that drunks shouldn't drive!"

"One, she's doing it to forget something, Huey," Arielle shot back at me. Maybe we were alike, in stubbornness. Neither one of us was backing down, "Two, drunks don't think logically!"

"Well," I rubbed the stubble on my chin before looking towards the single door, "There's only one way to find out."

"I guess so," Arielle shook her head as we walked towards the double door. Maybe, it was the fact that I was nervous. Or maybe it was the simple fact that Arielle was still special to me. Whatever it was, I definitely couldn't ignore the prickling in my chest.

"So who is he?" I asked Arielle as we walked towards the parking lot, "I mean, you look really happy and all. He has to be a great guy to deal with you."

She grinned for a moment before ceasing and frowned again, "He is. He really is."

"Well," The prickling feeling was there. Something bad was happening. Something terrible.

"Huey?" Arielle looked at me as I sped towards the parking lot, "Are you alright?"

I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could even do so something loud interrupted my sentence.

"Boom!" Something had crashed or exploded in the street, maybe both.

Arielle and I froze in our spots before taking off running towards the streets, "Jazmine!"

But just looking at the car, I knew she couldn't hear us at all.

Cindy

The hospital wanted me to take classes with some group here. They told me that the therapist was really great, and she should be able to help me figure out what was wrong with me. I refused at first. Then, they told me that I couldn't be released until I took at least six classes. I frowned but relunctantly agreed. After all, I still didn't have to tell these people anything.

The only thing they didn't tell me is that you have an hour with the group and an hour with one on one time with the therapist. And honestly, I didn't want to tell her shit.

"So," The therapist had to be in her mid 30s, she wore a tan skirt with a nice blue collared shirt that was beautiful but not trashy. She wore little make-up, and her legs were crossed over each other. Her skin was tanned, and she reminded me of a California girl in a sense. Her glasses covered her eyes, but they were speckled. To be honest, they had swagger written all over them. If it weren't for the fact that I didn't want to be here, I would probably have snatched them up, "What is your name?"

"Maybe it's the name on your paper," I rolled my eyes at the woman, "Dumbass."

"Really," She sounded calm as she read the paper, "So you enjoy being called Cynthia? I guess that's what I'll refer to you as."

"Call me Cindy," I wrinkled my nose at the name that she read. It sounds so old, and I hate that name. It's the one that my mother gave me, "That's what everybody else calls me."

"Oh," She simply said as she looked at the vanilla folder in her hands, tapping her nude heels on the carpet quietly, "Well, okay then. I see that you play basketball. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No," My voice was so icy that even I was shocked at the way that it was coming out, but I sat still, waiting on her to respond.

She shrugged moving on to something else, "Well, what about your sister, Katie? How do you feel about her?"

"She's little, she's loud, but she's my sister. That pretty much sums it up," I shrugged as she shot me a look.

"Well, okay," She dragged out the words a little, making me roll my eyes again, "Could we talk about your friends?"

"No," I shrugged again as she took a breath before moving down to something else.

"Your mother?" She asked me.

"Hell no," I whispered quietly, "I don't even know you."

"My name is or you can call me Cindy, seeing as though we have the same first name," She shrugged at me, her blonde hair shaking with her head, "If that's okay with you."

"I just want to leave," I shook my own head, "So if you don't mind."

"Bye," She told me, closing the folder and setting it down on the desk.

I stood there with my mouth wide open, "What?"

"You want to leave?" Her tone was even, "You can. I have other patients who will gladly sit in your place. I don't bother to help people who don't want it. Now, if you want to leave, do it. But I wouldn't approve of you doing such a thing. Especially with your recent activities lately."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked her, offended, "You don't even know me."

"Well, if this is how you act all the time," Dr. Heat looked into my eyes, "I don't want to."

"Fuck you!" I hollered so loudly that the assistant next to Dr. Heat flinched, "I don't want to trust anybody. Everybody lets you down! Everybody!"

"And what would make you think that, honey?" Dr. Heat had softened her tone so much that I just couldn't be angry anymore. And all of a sudden, I lowered to the ground, letting the tears run over my cheeks.

I felt a hand on my shoulder as I looked up, Dr. Heat, "Because everybody already has, even me. How can I trust everybody else when I barely trust myself?"

"You're sixteen," Dr. Heat shook her head, "You shouldn't worry about things like this."

"But I can't," I whispered, "I can't just stop worrying. I have to brace myself for everybody to just let me down. So why in the hell should I trust somebody who's just in it for a paycheck? Huh? Tell me that."

"Because," Dr. Heat looked into my eyes, "You can trust me. I will do my best not to let you down. I'm not in it for just the pay. I'm in it to help you. Alright?"

I nodded.

"Now, let's start over," Dr. Heat handed me a tissue, "My name is , but you can call me Cindy. What is your name?"

"I know that stupid file of yours says Cynthia," My voice trembled as the lump came up my throat, "but just call me Cindy."

"Well, hello, Cindy" Dr. Heat smiled at me, "Let's get started shall we?"

Riley

Even though Cindy is going through difficult times right now, I still have to stay loyal to my gang. They look up to me, even though I'm the youngest member here. I lead by example, and they know I would never step out on them, but I wonder if I would. I know this shit may shock you, but I'm only here because I'm scared to step out. Does that make me a coward? Or does that make me a somebody with perseverance? Funny, Huey would just call me stupid, a dumbass. I don't want to hear that though.

"Ay!" Greg called me, "What do you want us to do with this nigga?"

I looked at the boy. He was even younger than me. He looked about twelve or ten. He was short and had curly hair. He wore glasses, but he was clearly physically strong. He didn't cry, but he looked scared as hell. He had already made a mistake, and he didn't even know it. I looked at the boy, smirking, watching his eyes widen in fear. I couldn't wait to scare the living shit out of him. He would probably thank him later on for it.

"Give him the freezer," I looked at Greg, "Don't go easy on his ass either."

"Mane, I won't," Greg told him eagerly as he dragged the boy across the street. I could hear the screams as soon as Greg's fit hit the other side of the street.

I nodded with a smirk on my face. Just as we were about to make a few exchanges with a few loyal donators, a group passed by me, the Goons.

"You on our turf, mane," The tall one stepped forward with folded arms and a frown. His tone was cold, inhumane. He was clearly the leader, the weakest because he probably cared about this shit more than any of the others behind him yet the most capable and experienced, "Now, I'm gone give yo dumb asses the opportunity to dip mane. I suggest that you do."

"And you think that I'm finna do what you want?" I matched his tone and held my ground, "Nigga, this is my turf. I know you've fucking heard of us, so don't start that shit with me. You know full fucking well that this isn't the turf you own. Now, back your ass up!"

"Look, mane," The leader lowered his voice, coming towards me, his eyes narrowed, "You a young soldier mane. I respect that, but if you don't move, I'll do what I have to just to maintain my title. I suggest that you move out of my way."

"Hell naw," I told him as my crew loaded their weapons discreetly, "I don't give up shit. And I'll do what I have to so I can maintain my title. So I suggest, that you move out of my way."

"Gladly," He told me as he swung towards my face before realizing that he was now in my grip, wincing as I twisted his hand so that he was wrist was broken, sounding with a snap. His crew charged towards me, but mine was already on them like white on rice, beating that ass.

There was blood everywhere by the time we were through, and their leader gave me a chilling reply that made my insides freeze up.

"I warned you, nigga," He spat the blood out. He was dark himself, but he looked so familiar. He got up as I realized who he was. He had lost so much weight that I hadn't even known who he was, Lamilton. He was still cold, mean, heartless. There no doubt that he still hated my damn guts, "But you ain't never listened to me. You sent me to fucking jail, Riley Freeman, and I can't wait to make sure you feel every damn bit of shit that I felt these past four years. You thought you was hard? Bitch, it's new young meat in town. Bet money you about to fall like Rome did. I'll be back, and next time, you getting that ass handed to you."

"Lamilton?" That's all I could process, "When did you?"

"Watch your ass, mane," He laughed evily, "That's what I would do if I was you."

He spat on the ground before turning, his crew turning behind him.

"Mane," Jarod stood next to me, staring at them, "I know you ain't scared. A lot of gangs said the same shit before, and ain't do not a damned thing!"

"I know that," I shook my head as I stared after Lamilton. That nigga was determined, and I knew that nigga meant it, "But this ain't the same. Them niggas coming back. And that's real shit."

"So what are we finna do?" Jarod asked me as I looked up to the sky.

"I," I shook my head as I looked up to the sky, wishing that my father was here, "I don't even know, mane."

"You gon figure it out," Jarod nodded, his green eyes visible in the night, "You always do."

And I didn't say anything, but on the inside, I was praying that he was right.

Arielle

I didn't want this to happen to Jazmine, not her. I can see her car all the way from here, and it looks terrible. Her silver Mercedes had crumbled as it collided with the truck driver in front of her, and we couldn't see any signs of her being anywhere but inside of the car. I was still running towards the car next to Huey.

Even though it was awkward, I would sacrifice it for Jazmine's life. I could only imagine how Huey would react if she died. I knew he wanted to kill somebody. We had both heard the loud crash before taking off towards the street. I just wanted the girl to live. Was that too much to ask?

I was so busy running that I had somehow managed to run into the biggest bitch of them all, Tasha Fight. She had her hair flipped over her shoulder, wearing a short black skirt, a graphic blue top, and yellow Converse sneakers. She gasped in shock before narrowing her eyes at me.

"Move, freak!" She told me, "Why the hell are you running?"

"Because," My voice went down about twenty octaves, "Jazmine just had a crash."

"I just saw her," Tasha scoffed as she examined her nails, "You can kiss my ass with that fake ass sob story."

"Then, where is she, Tasha?" Huey cut in.

She looked him up and down with a smirk, batting her eyelashes and stepping closer, "You're fine as hell. I'll tell you!"

"Today," I sighed as Tasha shot me an annoyed look and a retort.

"He's free merchandise now, Nordstrom, back up!" Tasha whined, "And she was going home, she was acting drunk or some shit."

"Acting?" Huey looked over at me, "Like pretending?"

"Oh," Tasha reconsidered her words, "No, she was drunk for real. That' s for sure, but she had the nerve to go off on me, so I told her to drive herself home."

"Dumbass!" I cried out in frustration as Tasha looked up at me and leaned back on her car, "That means that Jazmine's car really did crash, and that she really is in danger!"

"Well," Tasha gestured towards a running Huey, no doubt going to check on Jazmine "I had to find a way to keep him here somehow."

"Jazmine could be dead," I clenched my teeth, "And all you care about is getting Huey's number even though he clearly doesn't want to have anything to do with you? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"You know what," Tasha lifted from her yellow car, "Jazmine chose to get drunk, and if she's dead, that's her own fault. I'm not about to sit here and cry about it. I'm pretty sure she's just injured. The front looks intact. She'll live."

"And you're not going to go fucking check on her. I thought she was supposed to be your fucking sister," I stepped forward as soon as she stepped back, clearly afraid.

"And?" She raised an eyebrow, "I'm damn sure not her mother. It's not my job to baby her."

"So you sit by and watch horrible stuff happen instead," I slammed her against the car, "I knew your fake hoe ass was no good."

"Like you're any different," She narrowed her eyes at me, "If I'm as fake as you say, why did you tell Jazmine to hang out with me in the first place? You're probably one of the reasons she's drinking now."

"Don't you fucking dare put that shit on me, Tasha," I warned her, "It wouldn't be wise to piss me off right now."

"Really?" Tasha asked me as she got in my face, smirking, "And what are you going to do about it? You weird ass bitch?"

"Ouch," I feigned hurt, "I like being weird, and I am a bitch. Thus, you're right, and do you know what that means?"

"Nothing," Tasha hopped off of the car and walked away from me, "Nothing important. You know what? Maybe I'll screw you're little new boy toy, Caesar? You fuck the homeless now? Oh, wait. You're homeless yourself, aren't you?"

"You don't even know me," I told her as Tasha nodded, laughing as she did so, "What the fuck would even make you say something like that to somebody?"

"My friend saw you at the shelter," Tasha told me as she grinned again, "She was volunteering and could not believe what she found."

"You are such a fucking bitch," I spat out, "How can anybody stand to hang around your evil ass?"

"I know right!" She squealed happily, "I'm the fucking shit. The last time I checked, Tasha Fight can do whatever she wants, whenever."

"You most definitely want your ass beat," I told her as I cracked my knuckles and laughed as she backed away from me, nervous and scared, "And I'm going to give you exactly what you want."

"I can ruin you, Arielle," She shook her head as she smiled nervously, "Think about this. Is this something that you want to do to yourself? I mean I don't want to, but I will, happily."

"You ruin people either way it goes," I sneered, my brown eyes no doubt twitching, "Just look at Jazmine! But unlike her, those little corny ass threats don't phase me. You may have her on a damn puppet string, but you can't put me on one. I can tell you that much."

"You aren't gonna do shit," Tasha decided to get tough all of inside, getting in my face.

"But you're going to talk it, huh?" I told her roughly as I pushed her to the ground and raised my hand towards her, "Wrong girl, Tasha."

Ten Minutes Later…

"What the hell did you do to her?" Huey looked at Tasha on the stretcher in horror, "I think you broke some things."

"Good," I looked at him, " She deserves it."

"Well," I looked at Jazmine's car, "how is she doing?"

He looked down, "She's breathing."

"Oh," I nodded sympathetically, "That's good, right?"

"She can't do it alone," He told me, "I gave her CPR until they hooked her up to the machine."

"Oh," I winced. That didn't sound good, "Well, I'm sure she'll be just fine."

"Um," Huey frowned,"Maybe."

Jazmine

Twenty Minutes Earlier…

I was slightly aware that what I was doing was stupid and reckless, but I was also aware of how free I felt when the wind passed through my hair. I could feel the speed of the car moving through my body. Arielle was right. She and Huey are always right. They have everything, and I have nothing but shit. I am nothing but shit.

The speedometer moves up to seventy.

I'm laughing now. The alcohol sits in my purse as I pull it out, taking a swig of it. It isn't cold, but it feels that way for a moment on my tongue before heating my throat a little. Since I'm used to it, I don't really feel the burning sensation. I smile. I love it. It feels good, damn good.

Everybody hates me. I hate me. Even Tasha hates me, but that's nothing new. The only thing new is that I'm admitting that I care. I care that people don't like me, and I don't enjoy the haters that approach me in the halls. I can't even enjoy my makeover because it makes me feel superficial, terrible.

Eighty miles per hour.

I wish that I could really tell people the truth about me, but I know that they would never understand me. I know that they could never really value the way I feel, or the way I want to be. I think of Mikayla and Jarod. I think of Huey, of Cindy and Arielle. I even think of Riley, but I'm going too fast, and soon, I can't remember anything but what's in front of me.

Ninety miles per hour.

And I know that I should be happy that I can't remember, but it makes me more afraid. It doesn't make me feel any better like I thought it would. I feel so stupid, but I keep my feet on the accelerator. It's too late to slow down now. And I'm moving my hands around, letting go of the wheel. When did I become so irresponsible?

"She's a slut, Sarah!" My father's words rang through my hand.

"Oh, I forgot it takes a lot of work to be a bitch."

"The life you wanted is the life you got."

One hundred miles per hour, the speedometer read, but I was still alive.

I must be invincible.

I keep going, not even scared. Is that bad? I take another swig of the alcohol, but I can't feel it. I'm numb, colder than ice in Antarctica. I see me and Huey at age ten. We're arguing, fighting as usual. I see me and Arielle meeting for the first time. I see Riley dribbling the ball and letting Cindy shoot. I see Cindy and I as we hug each other when her mother leaves- for good. Am I dying?

One hundred and twenty miles per hour.

I should stop caring what everybody else thinks of me. I should start living for me. I should stop whining and do something about it, but I can't. It feels worst when I don't. Pretending isn't easy, being me isn't easy anymore, and all I want to do is be happy. Am I this awful? I think of Huey's face the day I dissed him, and I realize that I really am a terrible person. My life is literally flashing before my eyes.

One hundred and forty miles per hour.

I think of my father. Will he be happy that he doesn't have to be bothered with me? Will he go start a new family with somebody else? I wonder if he loves his other woman better than he loves my mother. I wonder if they will ever stop fighting and realize that I just want them to come home. I just want anybody to pay attention to me, positively.

One hundred and fifty miles per hour.

I take a deep breath and turn the corner, and before I can even do anything about it, a big truck speeds down the street. I try to slow down, but it's clear that I'm not going to be able to stop.

I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I tried.

The driver doesn't even notice me screaming. He's bobbing his head to some stupid music. He's ugly too. Funny how I might die, but I'm still being rude to people.

I'm sorry for dissing you guys.

He looks up and tries to swerve out of the way, just as I do the same. Too bad we move in the same direction. I clench my eyes shut. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

I'm sorry for ever thinking that I could handle this on my own.

Nothing is happening. I open my eyes and see the headlights right before they smash into me, and soon, I'm spinning around and around. I'm so scared that I can't even form any coherent thoughts.

Oh my god, I'm so sorry.

"Crash!" I can hear my car smash into something and the shattering of the glasses. Small little snippets of pain began erupting through my body. There's glass in parts of my skin, and I'm slightly aware that I'm bleeding. Then, it's more than a snippet of pain. It hurts like hell, maybe worst.

I'm sorry may not be enough this time. Is it ever enough?

I'm crying now. I'm even screaming. I am in so much pain that I don't think I will ever walk again. I can't do this. I can't live. It hurts so bad. All I can feel is the pain. I can't register anything around me at all. People's voices are heard around me, and I'm told to hang on.

Too bad I don't want to. It hurts so bad. I don't want to live anymore, not like this.

"Jazmine!" I can hear a deep voice. Kevin? No, it's Huey. I would recognize that voice anywhere, "Hold on! I'm not going to let you die, alright?"

"Let me go," I think to myself, "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough."

The sirens sound down the street, and I take a breath.

And everything goes black.