Epilogue
Sierra
The sight before me shocks me. Three boys, two of whom I have feelings for, are standing at my door, glaring at Cyrus. I’m frozen in my spot as their eyes go back and forth between me and Cyrus, and I know they’re getting the wrong idea, thinking he’s the one who did this to me.
Before I know it, Zan and Brax launch themselves at Cyrus with fire in their eyes. Both of them go crazy, arms throwing punches left and right, but Cyrus only blocks them. He must know they have the wrong idea and that since they’re at my door, they must know me from school.
“Stop!” I scream out, my voice cracking as tears start falling. Fuck, I’ve cried so much in the last few days, I don’t know what to do.
When no one stops, I look over to Colt, who’s staring at me with anger in his eyes. “Please stop them,” I beg him.
“You want to save the guy who did this to you?” His words laced with so much venom.
When he does nothing to stop them, I move as fast as I can, pushing all the pain to the background, and pull on Zander’s arm, trying to stop him.
He must not realize it’s me, because he reaches back and shoves me off of him, knocking me to the ground, where I scream out in pain.
That sound alone does what my cry, ‘to stop’, couldn’t do, stopping everyone dead in their tracks. Braxton and Zander rush to my side, kneeling down beside me.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Sierra. I was just caught up in the moment and didn’t realize it was you. Fuck, are you okay?” Zander asks with so much guilt in his voice.
“Get the fuck away from her. You show up here, start throwing punches, and end up hurting her. You’re lucky I held back and didn’t fuck your asses up.
But now I don’t have a problem doing it.
” Cyrus reaches up, taking his hand and rubbing the top of it under his nose, catching the blood flowing from it.
“Cyrus, you’re bleeding,” I cry out, just before he walks over to the couch, picking up his discarded shirt and wiping it off his face.
“Do you not understand English? I said to get the fuck away from her. And you, what’s your fucking problem?” he barks at the three of them, the last comment aimed at Colton.
When they don’t move, Cyrus pushes them away and picks me up from the floor, carrying me over to the couch where he sits me down.
“What are the three of you doing here?” My voice shakes as my body vibrates.
“Dad called us to his office, and wanted us to bring your homework to you,” Brax says, picking up the scattered manilla folders from the floor.
“Oh.” I just stare at them, my mouth in the shape of a circle.
“Really? Oh? That’s it? You have everyone at school thinking you're sick, but it’s really just your pimp or boyfriend, whoever the hell he is, has beaten the ever-loving fuck out of you,” Colton barks out in disdain.
I go to speak but no words come out, and Cyrus takes over. He could see I was struggling.
“First off, watch your fucking tone. I won’t have you or anyone else talking to her that way.
I’m not her, or anyone else's, pimp. What I am is a friend. One who is taking care of her when she needs it. Boyfriend, well that’s a title I’ll gladly take, but this,” he gestures towards me, “I had no part in.”
“He didn’t do it,” I blurt out, not wanting Cyrus to be accused. He’s been my savior and I will not stand for someone thinking it was him.
“Then who did it?” Colton bites out.
“None of your business,” I snap right back at him, tired of the attitude he’s given me, not only today but Saturday as well. Why the fuck is he so angry?
“Sierra, are you okay? Who did this?” Zander asks softly as he moves over to sit on the couch beside me. Colton moves to the back of it, hovering behind him.
Cyrus lets out a low growl of warning, one they don’t heed. “It’s okay, Cyrus. These two are my friends.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and I reach up, grasping it, giving a reassuring squeeze.
“That’s up for debate,” Cyrus murmurs under his breath.
A knock on the still open door draws my attention to a woman in a suit and a female cop, with a male cop standing behind her. “Sorry to interrupt,” the male cop says, giving a disapproving look in our direction, his mouth clenched and jaw ticking when he sees the condition I’m in.
The woman speaks up, “I’m looking for Sarah Jones.”
“She’s not here,” I softly say, standing from the couch. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, knowing who she is.
“You must be Sierra. I’m Norma Jenkins with Child Protective Services. We’ve received an anonymous tip about child abandonment and you and your sister are listed as the victims.”
“NO!” I scream out as my world begins to spin.
To be continued
In Fighting the Odds