Koa Age 16
I had the house to myself. Aunt Leilani and Uncle Matthew had left for a wedding and wouldn’t be back till late Sunday. Finally, I wouldn’t have them breathing down my neck and I could just relax.
I didn’t even have to worry about football.
The regular season had been done for months, and even the indoor league I did in the winter and spring to keep in shape was over.
I didn’t start training camp for another two weeks.
I could breathe and hang out with Riot and the kids and forget everything else.
Aunt Leilani had left me money to get food for the weekend.
We’d order pizza and maybe wings and then eat all the snacks.
I flipped through the TV channels, waiting for Riot to show up.
He was coming with Knox and Wynter, obviously, but still.
He’d be here all weekend. I’d get to spend two whole days with Riot uninterrupted, where I didn’t have to worry about if he and the kids were safe or what was happening in their trailer.
If I thought my aunt and uncle wouldn’t flip their shit, I would ask if they could move in here.
Riot refused to tell anyone. The one time we’d fought in the last three years was when I’d tried to get him to.
It didn’t matter, I guessed. Everyone knew.
They just looked the other way. And the couple times the kids had been taken away from their mom, they’d always ended up back there. So all I could do was keep them safe.
The doorbell rang.
Grinning, I hopped off the couch and went to open the door, but it wasn’t Riot.
Knox stood on my porch, barefoot and carrying Wynter piggyback style. He was breathing so hard, I thought he was going to collapse, his dark hair sticking to his face with sweat.
Wynter clung to her brother with all the strength a four-year-old could manage. She was crying and shaking and . . . Oh god, Riot.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice going cold.
“He’s gonna kill him. Please help.”
“Get inside,” I ordered. Knox flinched, and I knew I was being too harsh, but I couldn’t help it now. “Come inside, both of you, and stay here, okay? Lock the door behind me and don’t leave, no matter what. I will come back and get you.”
“You’ll help him?” Knox sounded so scared. I didn’t think I’d heard him like that since Riot had given himself a concussion.
“Yes.”
I didn’t wait to see if he followed my instructions. Knox might’ve only been eight, but he was a mature kid. He’d stay where I told him to and watch Wynter. I needed to get to Riot. Now.
I had just gotten my license two months ago, so Aunt Leilani had left me the keys to her car in case of emergencies. This was a fucking emergency.
The entrance to the trailer park was only four streets and a left turn away. Absolutely nothing. But it felt like hours had passed by the time I turned in and gunned it down the half-paved road and to Riot’s place.
Knox had run all the way to my house with Wynter on his back. Even full speed, it had to have taken him a long time. Too long. Why hadn’t he called me? He knew where the phone was hidden. We always made sure of that.
I heard the fight before I even got out of the car. The wall of the trailer rocked, and someone was screaming. It wasn’t Riot.
I didn’t shut the engine off. I was probably gonna get Aunt Leilani’s car stolen, but I didn’t give a crap. I already had tunnel vision by the time I kicked open the cheap door.
My eyes briefly fell on Riot’s mom, Eva, lying on the couch, eyes closed with a cigarette in her mouth. I ignored her completely because Aren Azarian, Wynter’s dad and their mother’s dealer, was straddling a lifeless body, his fists slamming into his face over and over and over again.
“Fuck you, you little fucking piece of shit. Mind your own fucking business!”
Riot. It was Riot he was pounding into. Riot who wasn’t moving. Wasn’t fighting back.
I didn’t think. One second, I was standing by the front door, trying to process, and the next I had Aren by the back of his neck. He didn’t see it coming and never had a chance to fight back. I threw him to the side, and he crashed into the wall at an awkward angle.
“Ahhh!” I paid him no attention as I fell to my knees next to Riot.
“Oh god. Oh god. Riot, please, please be alive, be alive.”
Riot’s face was so smashed in, I could barely recognize it. His arm hung limply by his side. I couldn’t keep my hand steady as I brought my fingers to his neck.
“Please be breathing. Shit, Riot, please be breathing.” I said my mantra over and over, willing his fucking pulse to exist. Oh god, what if he was dead?
I couldn’t—I couldn’t think like that. He was my best friend.
My person. My fucking soulmate, even if he didn’t realize it yet.
That was okay. I had time and patience. I just hoped I could say the same for Riot.
Then I felt it. It was weak and unsteady, but it was there.
My tears started to fall, but it wasn’t safe yet. Aren was moaning behind me, trying to get up.
I scooped Riot up in my arms, praying I didn’t damage him further. But I couldn’t leave him here any longer. Get him to safety. Then I could call 911. Then I could worry about if I was paralyzing him. But he couldn’t stay in this fucking place. He never would again if I had my way.
Riot gasped.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t quicker. You’re safe now. I got you, Ri. I got you.”
His lips moved but no sound came out. Aren screamed behind me.
It sounded like he was standing up and then crashing to the floor.
Eva was still asleep. I grabbed the cigarette out of her mouth so she didn’t cause a fucking fire, then walked out.
Aren was behind me now, screaming from the damaged doorway.
I put Riot in the back seat as gently as I could.
He still wasn’t opening his fucking eyes.
I got in the running car, thankful it was still there, and drove off.
I didn’t breathe until I was out of the trailer park. Then finally, I grabbed my phone and called the police.