She opened her eyes half-mast, tried to focus on me. “Close the door. They’re coming.”
“Who’s coming?” I said.
“Close the fucking door!”
Had she totally lost her mind? I noticed a couple lines of white powder on the counter, a rolled-up bill beside them. Shit.
I knelt beside her. “Crystal, give me the gun.”
She tucked it closer to her body, under her armpit. She was breathing fast and looking around wild-eyed.
“Did they hear us? They’re going to kill us this time.”
She curled into a ball, the gun still close to her body, and started rocking back and forth, singing some song to herself.
Should I just sit with her for a while? I had to get the gun away from her somehow.
“Crystal, give me the gun, please.”
She shook her head. “No. They’re going to hurt me again.”
“No one’s going to hurt you. Please give me the gun.”
She took the gun out from under her arm but was still holding it by her side. She met my eyes, and hers seemed to come back into focus for a moment.
“I need my cigarettes,” she said.
“You’re out,” I said.
“I have more in my purse.”
“I’ll get them.” I went into the living room, found her purse, and rummaged around, but she didn’t have any.
When I went back to her bathroom, the door was shut. I tried the handle. Locked. “Crystal? I couldn’t find your cigarettes.”
“Just go home, Skylar.”
I didn’t like the tone of her voice, the flatness. “I’m not going anywhere until you come out.”
Silence.
I wondered if I should call the police or an ambulance or something.
I went into the living room and picked up my cell.
“Mom? I need you.”
*
I spent the next twenty minutes sitting outside Crystal’s bathroom door. She wouldn’t answer my questions, so I babbled about the beach, how she’d promised to take me, how we could pick up some burgers and shakes and smoke a big joint and read dumb magazines and laugh at celebrities. I could hear the crying on the other side, loud sniffs, or sometimes just silence, which was worse. My body was covered with nervous sweat, my palms sticky. I was terrified I’d hear the click of the gun, a shot going off.
Finally, I heard a key in the front door—and my mom calling out, “Skylar?”
“In here!” I yelled.
Crystal was silent. I wondered if she’d passed out.
Dallas and my mom came into the room. Mom’s face was pale and her eyes looked scared. Dallas looked grim, her mouth a hard line.
“She’s so messed up,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay,” Mom said. “Just go into the living room and we’ll deal with this.”
“No way! You can’t make me leave.”
“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place!”
“If I wasn’t here, that guy might’ve really hurt her.”
Mom turned from me to the locked door. Dallas knocked gently.
“Crystal, honey. Can you open the door?”
“She won’t go to the police,” I said.
“No police,” my mom and Dallas said at the same time.
The door opened slowly. Crystal was gripping the edge, leaning against it like she could barely stand. Her face was streaked with tears, bits of dried blood still under her nose, a faint bruise already forming around one eye.
“Jesus.” Dallas stepped forward.
Crystal walked into her arms, put her head onto her shoulder, and sobbed like a little girl. Mom took the gun out of Crystal’s hand, flipped something on the side of it.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Dallas said, leading Crystal to the bed, where she curled up, hugging her pillow. Mom sat by Crystal’s feet, her hand resting on her calf, the other still holding the gun. Dallas was rubbing Crystal’s back.
“It was just like Cash Creek,” Crystal said, the words squeezing out of her like she was in pain. “It was happening all over again.”
“Crystal,” Mom said. “You’re safe now.”
“We’re never going to be safe. They’re still looking for us.”
Mom looked up at me. “Go out to the living room.”
“I want to stay.”
She got off the bed and came toward me, her face furious. “Get out of here!”
I left and sat in the darkened living room, my face hot. I’d taken care of Crystal for hours, sat with her until they came, and now I was kicked out like a little kid. I couldn’t even hear anything they were talking about, just murmurs, sometimes Crystal crying. And it was a half hour before Mom came out.
“Is she okay?” I said.
“She’s calming down. Dallas will stay the night with her.”
“I want to stay too.”
“We need to go home.”
*
Mom gripped the wheel tight, her eyes focused on the road, but I could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, expressions flitting across her face, confusion, fear, sadness, lights from the other cars reflecting off her skin and eyes.
“What was Crystal talking about?” I said.
“She’s out of it. She didn’t know what she was saying.”
“What happened in Cash Creek?”
“You lied to me tonight, Skylar. I’m really upset with you.”