The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(103)

Caleb crumbles to the ground clutching onto his cheek. “What the f*ck?” He stumbles to his feet, wiping away the blood dripping from his nose. “Who do you think you are?”

I swing my fist at him again without an explanation, but this time he ducks and slams his fist into my side. My ribs pop, but it’s nothing compared to what I’m used to, and I rebound, bringing my knee to his gut.

He coughs, hunching over as he spits blood on the ground. “You’re so f*cking dead.”

I pop my knuckles, shuffling forward to hit him again, but he jumps up and charges at me. With his head down, he rams into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and our shoes scuff against the dirt as we struggle to stay upright. Someone screams from the crowd and it’s followed by yells as we hit the dirt.

I smash my fist into his face over and over again, seeing red, only red, like it’s been bottled up inside me for years. Someone tries to pull me off, but I shove them off repeatedly. I don’t know how much time lapses as I continue hitting him. Finally someone is able to get me off of him.

I shake off their hand, thinking it’s Luke, but the red and blue lights flashing against the still water bring me back to reality as a police officer slaps handcuffs onto my wrists.

“Don’t move,” a cop yells and I’m shoved forward, falling on my knees into the dirt.

With my bloodstained hands behind me, I take in what I’ve done. Caleb’s still breathing, but his face is so engorged and bloody there are no features left. I’m not sure I care, though, because when it all comes down to it, Callie got her justice.
***
Being in jail seemed better than going home and I refused to call my dad. In the end, one of the officers calls him, because of his highly respected status in the town. My dad’s always been big on the donations, which makes people automatically think he’s a great guy.

Hours later, I’m in the kitchen of my house, sitting at the table. My mom went to pick up Tyler from the airport and had to take a cab, because neither of them will be sober enough to drive. It’s just my dad and I in the house. Something’s about to end, I just don’t know what.

“This is f*cking bull shit.” My dad circles around the table and kicks the bottom of the counter with his boot, putting a hole in the wood. “I get a call in the middle of the God damn night to bail your ass out of jail, for beating the shit out of someone.” He pauses, running his finger along a small cut below his eye that was caused by our fight. “You’re really on a roll today, you little shit.”

“I was taught by the best,” I mutter, my ribs stinging, my arm throbbing, yet somehow, I feel more content than I ever have.

He picks up a chair and throws it across the room into a shelf, breaking a vase. I don’t flinch. I just trace the cracks in the table with my thumb. “Where did I go wrong with you?” He stomps around the island that’s in the middle of the kitchen. “You’ve been a f*ck up since you were two.”

I stare at the wall, picturing Callie’s smile, the sound of her laugh, the softness of her skin.

“Are you listening to me?” he shouts. “God dammit, Kayden, quit ignoring me!”

I close my eyes, reliving how it felt to be inside her, touch her, kiss her all over her body, the smell of her hair.

My dad’s hands slam down on the table and my eyes shoot open. “Get up.”

I shove away from the table, knocking the chair to the floor. I’m ready for it. As he bends his elbow back over his shoulder, swinging his fist forward, I curve mine up and slam it into his jaw. The pain stuns us both as our fists connect with each other’s faces. There’s a pause, where he really looks at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, before he seizes me by the shoulders and throws me against the wall.

“Knock it off, you little shit!” He knees me in the side and I hammer my knuckles into his cheek in retaliation.

Again, he’s shocked and it takes him a moment to recuperate. All I think about is how afraid he looks, the lack of confidence in his eyes, and the unsteadiness of his posture.

He grabs onto my shirt, desperate to gain control as he pushes his hand against my face, shoving me back against the cupboard. Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I curve my fist upward and strike him in the side of the head, hard. He lets out a grunt as he shoves me back and I crash against the counter, banging my hip against the tile and knocking knives to the floor. I start to move forward, but he runs at me with his head down. I speed up, bending my knees to hop over the island, but he catches the bottom of my shirt and jerks me down to the floor. I fling my arm behind me, reaching for him, but he ducks down.