2: Illuminated By The Eerie Neon-Teal Light

"What do you think happened?" Millie whispered over to me during our biology class. We were lab partners, making it easier to talk to each other since we didn't have to yell across the room.

I knew what she was talking about immediately, finding it difficult to not steal a glance at the boy in question. Across the room, sat next to Dennis, was Sam. His eye was swollen and in the early stages of a bruise, mostly a bright-red paired with the purple spiderwebs of burst blood vessels within his skin.

"I don't know. He's never really been one for physical fights." I shrugged, thinking about the time when the two of us did get into a fist fight. It ended after only a few hits from both of us, only further proving the fact that Sam was never one for that kind of thing. He was stronger than I was, but we never got far enough along to fully prove my lack of hand-eye coordination.

Which was definitely a good thing, since otherwise my pride would have been absolutely shattered. And I needed my pride, because I didn't have much otherwise.

Millie nodded in agreement, the both of us quieting down and returning to listening to the teacher talk. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but continue to wonder what happened to Sam. None of his friends could have caused it, given the fact that all of them still seemed to be speaking to each other.

Despite my better judgment, I decided to sneak another glance his way. That time, I found his hazel eyes already focused on mine. There was something damning in his gaze, as if he was trying to tell me something. But he said nothing. I didn't know how long we were looking at each other before Dennis turned to whisper something to him.

We tore our gazes away, my thoughts careening to a halt as I tried to piece together what that expression meant. All I could notice was that his hair was messier than usual. He always wore it messy, but with a particular intention in mind that most likely took him at least an hour to achieve. But on that particular day, it seemed as though he had only taken half the amount of time that he usually did.

Weird.

•O•O•

Two days later, and there he was again.

No one came up to me to try to spill soda over my head, nor did I get sarcastically catcalled in the halls, or tripped on my way to class. In conjunction, I didn't have to return the sentiment.

Instead, Sam & Co. seemed to be keeping their distance for the first time in years. Every time that I saw Sam, he would glance at me briefly before fixating his gaze elsewhere. There was a new bruise on his jaw.

The entire school seemed to be talking about it.

"Why has Sam been so quiet recently? Do you think that everything is okay? Who is causing the bruises? What if he's in trouble?"

I couldn't go more than ten paces without hearing at least one girl mutter those questions to her friend. Every girl in school was head-over-heels in love with Sam, so it wasn't that shocking. There were even a few who were throwing more glares my way than usual, assuming that I had something to do with the disfiguration of their beloved's face.

Especially Jocelyn. Everyone knew that she loved nothing more than to drape herself over Sam in the halls as though he belonged to her. He never seemed to return the sentiment, though.

It was yet another thing that was weird.

That word applied to everything that revolved around Sam.

All I would do in response to the girls was roll my eyes and ignore them. While I was curious as well, it definitely wasn't the end of the world for me. To not have Sam mess with me for a few days was a blessing that I gladly seized. Sitting in my precalculus class, I watched as he entered.

Our eyes briefly met, his hands tucked into the pocket of his sweatshirt. He was always wearing it, a red rose embroidered over his heart like an emblem that perhaps only he understood. Then our gazes broke as he went to sit beside Brian.

That was when Mrs. Whitlock began to gain the class' attention, asking for the homework that I had spent the entire night grueling over as though it meant nothing. I silently cursed the math gods, already fully aware of the low grade that was going to return to me.

I probably should have taken a different class.

The rest of the day was spent doing the bare minimum in my other classes — as I always did — and talking with Millie, because she was not only my best friend, but also my only friend. Still, I appreciated her with all of my heart. After all, she did put up with my bullshit. We had been attached to each other's side for longer than I could remember.

When Millie dropped me off after school, I found two cars in the driveway. It was at that moment that I was sorely reminded of the dreadful Tuesdays that my parents liked to partake in. I already knew precisely what scene I was going to find when I opened the door.

And I was right. As always.

My father was sitting on the couch, watching what I assumed to be a rerun of some football game. He was the definition of obsessed with the sport, having been the star player back when he was my age. Dad was the coach of a little league team at the local elementary school, as well as their gym teacher. I was just grateful that it wasn't at my school.

When he wasn't doing either of those things, he had a second job as the night shift receptionist at a membership gym in the heart of town. We didn't necessarily need extra money, he was just the type of man who could never handle sitting still for longer than he had to. Unless he was watching American football, of course.

Because then he suddenly had all the patience in the world.

I, on the other hand, absolutely did not.

Tuesdays were usually his least busy day, since he came straight home after teaching, and he didn't have to worry about the gym or coaching.

He glanced back when he heard me close the front door, nodding to me like it was a genuine greeting. I just returned it with a fleeting smile, walking past and heading straight for the kitchen. There I found my mom, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me.

"Hey, Sawyer Jay." She said, "How was school?"

"Cruel." I told her, saying the same thing that I always did whenever she asked. My hand quickly found the fridge door, ready to quell my growing hunger.

However, she immediately rolled her eyes and slapped my hand away. "No eating when I'm making dinner."

"I'm hungry."

"You can stay hungry until it's finished." Mom snapped.

She was a lot more tolerable than Dad was, though every bit as distant. Her life somehow led her to a job at the local bakery, usually helping to make the homemade goods along with her boss — who was functioning solely on the use of borrowed time given the fact that she was at least four hundred years old. Due to her bordering-on-collapsing-into-a-pile-of-dust age, Mom was forced to come into work all the time in an effort to solve whatever new problems were arising.

When she wasn't dealing with that, she was socializing to some degree. Sometimes she was hanging out with Millie's parents, or participating in the school board. Whatever it was on that particular day, she was rarely home. That was why Tuesdays were important to her, because it was the only day that her, Dad, and I were all home by the time school ended.

Joy for me.

•O•O•

On Friday night, a few hours after I ate dinner, I received a text from Millie.

Millicent🤮💖:

Wanna go to 2 JoC???

I looked to see the time. It was eight o'clock.

Me:

I ate dinner at four. Are you hungry?

Millicent🤮💖:

My parents didn't bother 2 cook 🤩

Feeling a bit bad for her, I frowned at my phone. Millie's parents were similar to mine — distant and caught up in their own world. However, where mine were deeply in love with their family regardless of the time we all spent apart, hers were simply delusional. They lived life as though they were teenagers, despite being older in age. Over the years mine had mellowed out while Millie's only became worse.

Being the overprotective brother figure that I was, I texted her back immediately.

Me:

Pick me up whenever. I'm down.

About ten minutes later, I heard her red, second hand Mazda pull into the driveway. I called my parents to let them know that I was heading out, and then I left the coziness of my bedroom. Millie greeted me with a grin when I sat down in the passenger seat.

On the way there, she blared Why Do You Feel So Down by Declan McKenna as loud as she could, screaming the lyrics as though to engrave them into both of our eardrums. I let her, recognizing the fact that she was clearly pissed off about something. I assumed that it was relating to her parents, which Millie rarely talked about anymore. She always got defensive whenever I brought it up.

Soon enough, the car was brought to a halt as we entered the designated parking lot. Jack of Clubs, a diner in the heart of Wellpine, Idaho. Millie and I used to eat there all the time when we were little and Kiera would babysit us. That was why it meant so much to the both of us. We still made it appoint to go there almost every week. It was located a few miles from just about everything, which was an awful location for a struggling diner.

Unfortunately, Jack of Clubs was most likely going to have to shut down soon. The owners were an old couple who simply didn't bring in enough money to pay for medical bills. It had been a while since I saw Jack and Dee, but I knew that Jack was recently diagnosed with lung cancer.

Still, they tried their best to keep it open and Millie and I paid for their food frequently with the hope of helping them out just a little bit more.

We went inside and took a seat at the same booth that we always occupied. Ezra, a disinterested college student who barely even tried at her job, was soon standing beside our table with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.

Millie ordered a full meal while I just asked for a milkshake. Given that we were the only people there, it didn't take long for our orders to find themselves on our table. The whole time that I was trying to drink my milkshake and Millie was trying to eat her chicken, we couldn't stop laughing over every little thing.

I was relieved to find her smiling again, always hating it when she was frustrated with her parents. Fortunately, she seemed to completely forget about whatever was hurting her, instead falling into the comfortable wake that we always surrounded ourselves in. Maybe that day could have been every bit as mundane as every other one.

Maybe.

But soon everything changed.

There were four different cars suddenly speeding into the parking lot, screeching to a stop as though they didn't give a shit about who happened to be looking. Or their brakes. Millie and I both soon had our gazes glued to the window, watching curiously to find out what was going on.

The car doors all opened simultaneously, and that was when I realized that I recognized two of them. One was Sam's white Mercedes Benz, while the other was Brian's black Pontiac. Keeping that information in mind, I shouldn't have been as confused as I was when I saw Sam, Dennis, Brian, and Caden all standing in the center of the parking lot. It should have made sense given the fact that it was their own cars that they were driving.

But the other two belonged to a whole group of men that I never saw before. They looked like typical criminals, all going to stand a few feet away from Sam in an ominous semi-circle. The way that all of them were illuminated by the eerie neon-teal light cast from the Jack of Clubs' sign only made the scene more disturbing.

It was like some sort of liminal veil. It was unnerving, and a sick feeling began to fill my stomach.

"What the fuck are we watching?" Millie asked, her brow furrowed as she stared at them. I looked over at the counter to see if Ezra was watching too, but she must have been in the break room instead.

"I have no idea." I replied, turning back to the window to see what was going to happen next.

They were obviously yelling at each other, given the facial expressions that were spent by both parties. Seeing Dennis and Caden appear so serious was oddly perturbing. Dennis was always flirting and his posture was always loose. Caden had a grin perpetually glued to his face as though letting it slip for even a moment would be considered the end of the world.

But right then, they were all slack-faced and tense. Brian was always stoic no matter the occasion, so at least his demeanor didn't strike me as peculiar. Well, it did. But that was only because of the bizarreness of what I was watching unfold.

That was when a particularly tall man came to the forefront, walking straight up to Sam and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Millie and I both gasped when he pulled his fist back as if he was going to strike him. She grabbed my hand over the table, eyes wide as we tried to decipher what we were witnessing.

However, the man then lowered his fist and let go of Sam. He spun on his heel and called something to the group of men behind him. They all seemed to be taking orders, heading back to the two different cars. Sam said one last thing to the tall man before even that guy left with the rest of them.

Dennis walked up to Sam, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. They seemed to just stand there in some sort of solemn silence for a minute or two. Then they dispersed too.

In a parallel universe, they would have all left and that would have been the end of it. Millie and I would be drowning in our own imaginations as we tried to figure out what any of it meant. However, we weren't in some parallel universe. Because Sam happened to turn his head while we were still staring.

Beneath the glow, the bruise around his eye appeared far more sinister. His curls were sticking up in every direction, like he didn't even have a moment to himself where he could smooth them back down. As soon as he realized who we were, he rolled his eyes in pure annoyance. Dennis followed his gaze, the two of them exchanging a brief conversation.

Then Dennis went with Caden and Brian towards the Pontiac, leaving Sam to head to the diner's entrance.

Instantly, Millie and I were filled with panic. We exchanged frenzied glances, sitting straighter in our booth seat as we awaited the millions of possibilities that could occur. "Why is he coming in here?" Millie whispered.

"How would I know?" I replied, trying to be discreet, but that was thrown out of the window the second that Sam entered the building.

Our gazes instantly met, which was followed by Millie whipping her head around to see what I was staring at. Sam's bruises were even worse than before, some of the old ones fading into yellow, while fresh red splotches kissed his chin. Whatever was the cause, it was clearly a serious problem.

To my dismay, Sam headed straight for us. When he stood at the end of the table, looking between the both of us, he forced his lips to part. "How long were you two watching?"

"We didn't really see much..." Millie tried, but she didn't sound all that believable. She was never a very good liar.

"You saw the whole thing, didn't you?" Sam sighed, biting his lip as he studied our body language. If there was anything I knew about Sam, it was his ridiculous habit of biting his lip whenever he was in deep thought. Which was all the time, it seemed.

"Yeah." I admitted, cringing at his obvious discomfort. It wasn't like I understood what I just saw anyway, so he really didn't have much to be worried about.

That was when he locked gazes with me once more, something demanding in his eyes. I could see just by his expression that he was stressed and trying to minimize his list of stressors. "Sawyer, you're not going to tell anyone about this, right?"

My eyes flitted to Millie. Then I sat up a bit straighter, shaking my head slowly. "No..."

"Good. Keep your mouth shut." Sam said, sucking in a deep breath. I never saw him appear so defeated before, his eyes more tired than usual, his usually tan skin more pale. It was utterly disconcerting to witness, especially with the mess of bruises adorning his face.

Without another word, Sam just nodded once. Then he turned and headed back for the door, leaving us in a state of pure confusion.

"What the fuck just happened?" Millie ran a hand through her short hair, conveying her complete shock.

"I have no fucking idea." I replied.

She liked doing that — asking questions that she knew I couldn't answer. The same questions that I was seeking answers to.

I stared at the door, wondering if Sam would come back. Then I glanced out of the window, but I couldn't see him anywhere. With the angle of the door in relation to our booth, it would have been incredibly difficult to see him if he was standing directly outside of it.

My heart pattered away as I tried to make a quick decision. Then I did. "I'm going to go out there and talk to him for a second."

It was the weirdest decision I had ever made. Maybe weird was a good word for me too.

"Respectfully, why the fuck would you do that?" Millie pointed out. "You guys hate each other."

"We do, but that looked pretty fucked up. What if he's like... I don't know. Really upset, or something?" Even as I said it, the entire thing sounded ridiculous coming from me. Millie made a good point. We did hate each other. But something about the bruises and that group of men. Despite our hatred, a part of me just wanted to make sure that he was alright.

Why?

"Are you listening to yourself?"

I waved her comment off. "I've found that it's better if I tune myself out. I'll be back in a minute."

"Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately."

I then stood up and headed for the exit. As I reached the glass entrance, I was able to spot Sam stood a few feet away. He didn't seem to be doing anything at first. Then I realized that his eyes were closed and his hands were clenched into fists. It seemed that he was trying to calm himself down.

I opened the door, and he instantly jumped to attention at the noise. Our eyes found each other, and he furrowed his brow in anger once he realized who he was looking at.

"What do you want?" He snapped.

Tempted to retort, I swallowed the urge and instead tried to keep my cool. "I wanted to make sure that you were alright."

As soon as I said it, I felt exponentially more like an absolute idiot. Which was hard to do, given how much of an idiot I usually was on any and all days. But somehow I pulled it off, and Sam knew it too.

"You're shitting me." He just stared at me.

"Well, I don't know." I was slightly embarrassed, but I tried to make that less obvious. "I've just never seen anything like that before."

"I thought you agreed to pretend that you didn't see it."

"I agreed to not tell anyone else about it."

"Yeah, and that includes me. So stop fucking talking and go back inside."

So much for trying to be the bigger person. Because just like that, both of us were once more annoyed and full of hatred for each other. Sam never failed to make me rage. Sometimes I just wanted to punch that stupid rich boy I'm-above-everyone-else look right off of his face.

The only thing that stopped me was the slight worry that it would hurt me more than it would him.

"But—"

I didn't finish my sentence, because I was distracted by a car coming down the road. It was speeding into the parking lot like the world would end if it didn't get there fast enough.

Instead of going into a parking spot, the black van stopped only a few yards from Sam and I, and the door opened. It was like a suffocating blanket was smothering us, because the sudden aura of eeriness filled our lungs instantly.

The man from before — the one who almost punched Sam — stepped out.

Sam stepped forward, a twitch in his brow as he tried to school his emotions. I stepped back, wondering if it would make me look pathetic if I went back inside. I wasn't entirely sure if I cared, because there was clearly something happening between those two that was beyond fucked up and I didn't want any part in it.

But then the man's eyes found mine, and I knew that I was screwed. I stood petrified behind Sam.

"Do you think this is a joke?" The man spat, his words like acid in the air. He had an awful gravely voice that made my hair stand on end.

Sam shook his head instantly, standing tall even in the face of a man as ugly, threatening, and burly as that. That was one of the things that annoyed me most about him — his perpetual confidence no matter the situation. Arrogance was a better word for it. "No, I would never."

"I think you do." He hissed, grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt. Sam did not struggle. He just kept his face as calm as he could, and didn't avert his gaze. "You think you're untouchable."

"No." Sam spoke the word with a particular drawl. One that did little to please the man. It was more effective in pissing him off than anything else.

The man grit his yellowed teeth, and his eyes found me once more. My breath caught in my throat as I found myself trapped beneath his impenetrable gaze.

"We'll see about that." He let go of Sam, only to sidestep around him.

Before he could, Sam grabbed his arm and sneered. "He has nothing to do with this."

He didn't even seem to care, more pissed by the fact that Sam even tried to stop him in the first place, which was unfortunate for the both of us. The man grabbed Sam's arm in return, using it to keep him in place as he punched him squared across the jaw. I flinched, cringing as I imagined how horrific that pain must have been. Blood dripped down his chin from where his lip split — which was probably partially because he always seemed to be biting it.

"You think I'm stupid?" He hissed lowly, shoving Sam backwards with a knot in his brow. He was fuming, but I really wasn't sure why exactly. What the fuck did Sam do to get involved with someone like that?

"No." Sam was surprisingly calm despite the bruises all over his face, and the more to come. It was horrific just to witness. "I don't."

"What have you told him?" Walking over to me, I backed up until my back touched the diner's entrance. He loomed over me, menacing and psychotic. I was trying my best not to shake, but I was pretty sure that my life was on the line. Any knowledge I had on self-preservation was lost as I gazed into those crazed eyes.

Before I knew it, Sam's arm was separating us, and his eyes were cold. "He knows nothing."

"You expect me to believe you?"

"I have no reason to tell him."

The man watched us both for a long moment, and I held my breath. I was preparing for a sudden burst, for a bruise on my own face or worse. It seemed that the entire world was petrified by the possibility of what was to follow.

Then he reached around Sam just enough to grab my sleeve and tug me closer. His foul breath fanned out on my cheek as he muttered through gritted teeth. I fought down the urge to gag. "We'll be watching you from now on," He spat.

Then he released me, and I nearly fell backwards as I scrambled to put distance between myself and everyone else.

He didn't say anything else, just offering Sam the sort of look that I figured only he understood. His shoes scraped against the ground as he turned and left.

With our proximity, I could tell that Sam was seething. His breathing was labored, and his muscles were tense enough to cut through stone. Whatever he was involved in, it was taking its toll.

The car sped off out of the parking lot and down the lonesome road.

Soon, it was just Sam and I left.

•O•O•