The sound of his voice, deep and strained, released something inside of her. Letting out a strangled scream, Elly darted for the desk. She couldn’t go toward the door, as he was blocking it, and the doorway to her apartment would just trap her between him and a stairwell. I don’t want to die on a stairwell, she thought. I would rather die here, in my shop. Her leg twisted over a potted plant and she tumbled to the ground, her elbows hitting a shelf that protruded from the wall. The shelf was yanked out of the wall and the vases fell like rain around her, explosions of glass everywhere she looked. She felt the glass cut her cheek and hands, but didn’t care. She was almost to the phone. The phone, the phone, it was all that mattered. The kid moved toward her with his hand outstretched. “Wait … wait … don’t….”
She had reached the phone. Suddenly, her vision was tunneling and the disjointed thoughts that preceded a faint had begun. Elly Jordan, frequent fainter, was going to become unconscious at the worst-possible time. Trying to stand, she hit the voice control button and muttered, “Call Keith.” She fell down to her knees. There was glass all around her, and blood. The boy was reaching over her, his hand moving toward her neck. She saw her mother pruning a rose bush in her elaborate garden and Hadley reaching up for her, and then Keith. Keith at the end of an aisle, with water crashing behind him. Keith’s smile, his warm eyes, and his loud voice. She shook her head in an effort to stay awake, to stay away from the black swirls in front of her. Don’t faint, please, don’t faint…. No, no…. Then she saw Keith again, part of her delusion? She blinked, trying desperately to stay conscious. Nope. Keith was here. Elly weakly lifted her head from the floor. With two meaty arms, Keith grabbed the kid, who was leaning over Elly, and threw him across her desk. Keith reached for Elly and hauled her up into his arms. She still teetered on the razor edge of consciousness. The kid reached out and Keith’s fist made contact with his face, sending him to the floor again with a heavy thump. Keith, supporting Elly with one arm, began shouting at the boy, who was having trouble getting his girth off the ground. “What do you want, huh? What do you want with her? Why are you here? Get away from her!”
The boy tried to push himself up with trembling arms. The corner of his jaw was swelling. “What the hell, man?”
Keith punched him again, this time right in the nose, which then began bleeding. He stumbled backwards with a roar. Keith’s face was a bright shade of crimson and a vein was pulsating in his forehead. “What do you want? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Back up! I’m calling the police, you psycho!”
“Chill out!” the boy yelled back, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood from his nose, all while getting away from Keith. His voice dropped an octave, and became shaky and pleading. He was crying.
What was happening? Elly tried to ground herself and avoid going unconscious.
The kid made a pathetic face. “Don’t call the cops, please. Please. Please, man.”
Keith looked over at Elly and then back at the boy again. “Why? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call them right now and have you locked up for stalking and possible assault.”
The kid gestured to Elly, who was clinging to Keith, still trying to process what was happening. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to assault her! She’s my sister!”
Keith eye’s darted at Elly and then back at the kid again. “What?”
The kid looked at the carpet and spat blood out on the floor. “She’s my sister, you asshole.” He looked into Elly’s eyes and something deep inside her gave a hopeful cry. “Elly, I’m your brother. Dennis.” He looked up at Keith with the resentment of having been betrayed before bursting into tears. “I can’t believe you punched me!” Keith pointed at him, his knuckles bloody. “Tell us, right now, what you are doing here or I will call the police.” Dennis cleared his throat and began.
Chapter Eight
Dennis’s Story