25 | Pit Crew

JUEVES

7:46 PM

Reid Harlow

I took another drag of the cigarette.

My skin basks in the sun as it lowers into the horizon, casting an orange-pink glow across the sky in its place. The silhouettes of trees paint the perfect landscape, flocks of birds rustle from the branches and ascend north, leaving.

The nicotine registers in my system and releases a dopamine that could closely relate to euphoria. A numbness to sensation, a buzz through my veins that elevates my high. It creates a sense of peace—though artificial—and it makes me feel relieved. On some days, it slows down my heart and on others, my chest races out of my ribcage.

It's a coin flip.

But it's so fucking worth it.

I feel the seat beside me fill with a body, and our knees knock.

"You know smoking is bad for you, right?" Claudia declares, quite stuck up and bitchy. She doesn't turn my way, and instead focuses her eyes to the view before us.

"You know I don't fucking care, right?" I mock, taking another drag of the cigarettes as the end chars with an inhale. "Don't you have a dick to suck? Or a clinic to visit? Why the fuck are you here?"

The moment after I finished, it registered how much of an asshole I sound like—but it was too late. I don't apologize, and despite my chest lighting with a string of guilt, it wasn't enough for me to take back my words.

Claudia inhales a sharp breath, and doesn't automatically return the banter. I clench my teeth, sharpen my jaw and remind myself that this is the way to go to keep people at arm's length. That this is the procedure to take to be safe.

"You're an asshole," Claudia mumbles under her breath, and from the corner of my eyes, her hands ball into fists. "Sometimes I want to punch you."

I scoff, turning to my foster sister and give her a challenging look. "then fucking do it. Punch me."

Her brown eyes flicker to my face, fury brewing behind them and a temptation that sweeps her features like a ticking bomb ready to dentate itself. Her jaw sharpens, and she looks as if she's debating a choice between her morals and her conscience.

Prove me right.

Almost like she could read my thoughts, Claudia shakes her head and unclenches her muscles. She swallows hard and turns away from me, calming herself before she does something irrational. Like, for instance, giving me a punch I deserve.

Goddammit.

"I'm not here to fight you," she begins quietly, her voice pitched with an edge. "I want to talk about Dahlia."

I froze. The cigarette between my fingers burns smaller and smaller, and the reminder of how Dahlia hates the smell returns to me. I drop the butt of the concrete—almost like some fucking tribute to her—and crush it underneath my shoe. I don't look at Claudia.

"Why?"

"My mom said she was here for dinner yesterday," Claudia recaps, her voice drawing steady, as if she was unveiling classified information. "And...you brought her."

I stay silent.

"She hasn't called me," Claudia said, her gaze flickering to me to see if I'm following. I am. "And she hasn't tried to text me or anything, and I know we don't see everything eye-to-eye—but I'm concerned about her."

I don't want to say anything, because I feel like everything Dahlia shared with me was confidential. It was a thin layer of trust she bestowed on me, and even the most delicate move can fracture it.

I don't fucking want that.

"She's fine." I clear my throat, dropping my gaze to the ground. "We don't have to talk about her—"

"Harlow," Claudia commands, gripping her voice with authority. "If she's telling you things, that's great. It's good to have a friend. But, if you cannot hold in information that could potentially hurt her."

I turn and scowl. The assumption grips at me harder than anything else. "I'm not hurting her."

"No, you're not intentionally hurting her. There's a difference. If you're withholding information about her situation because she asked you to, or because you think it's best for her—that's deadly." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine with a seriousness that cannot be fathom. "You can't save her."

Bullshit.

"You don't know her." I spat, standing from my spot. "She's not just some girl you study in a book, she's human. She's a person, her situation is different from a normal abusive household—and she trusts me when she tells me shit. And it's fragile. I'm not going to break her trust just because you told me to."

Claudia stands, matching her stance with mine. While I tower over her in height, she continues to stand proud and tall. "Toxic households are difficult to identify and though she doesn't live in a physically abusive home, there's triggers that could potentially lead to that. If she's told you something about her father that gives off red flags, you have to tell me. For the safety of her wellbeing."

I'm getting pissed off. Claudia doesn't understand how hard it was to get Dahlia to open up to me. If Claudia does something—I'll be the one to blame. I'll lose her trust.

I don't need your help. I can handle this myself.

"No," I shake my head, crossing my arms stubbornly. "You're going to fuck it up for me. Claudia, if you do something that jeopardize that relationship we built, I'll never fucking forgive you."

"I'm not going to do anything!" She declares, her voice pleading, almost desperate. "You need to understand, you can't be the sole savior to her entire situation. She'll need help—help to get her away from her father."

I growl, "that's what I'm fucking doing! I'm helping her learn how to drive, so she could get to her internship and she could receive her scholarship from SAINT. When she does, she gets to leave her father and she gets to live. Don't you fucking understand?"

"I do! But what you're doing is you're presenting her with a temporary situation, and while getting away from her father is top priority, you have to consider external factors. What if she can't? What about her situation now? I don't want to say it, but what if something happens between now and her graduation?"

I know what she's implying, and I grit my teeth in retaliation. The thought of that asshole hurting Dahlia is beyond me—and if that happens, I don't know what I'll do.

I'll fucking kill him.

"I got it," I said through clenched teeth. "And I'll handle everything that comes her way—but I'm not telling you shit, Claudia. She trusts me."

"You can't be her only source of outlet!"

"Why the fuck not?!"

My breathing ragged, and I stare at Claudia with daggers. Her claim speaks volume, and they echo through my head like a pestering acknowledgement. You can't save her.

"Because," Claudia sucks in a breath, levelling her eyes with mine—despite the harsh look I'm sending her way, "what happens after she leaves? What happens to all the years of abuse she faced? What happens to her unresolved trauma?"

I shake my head, turning away from Claudia. "I've got it handled."

"Do you? Do you really? Harlow, I don't know if you realize—but you don't exactly scream the type that resolved their own trauma. I don't know what you been through—"

"Exactly!" I snap back to her, my eyes blazing. "You don't know what the fuck I've experienced, you don't get to say shit about my situation. I'm dealing, and what's going on with Dahlia is none of your business. If I need your help, I would've fucking asked."

And with that, I turn around and left.

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