past the point of love

just because

Naturally, Noah didn’t think much about being there in her room. He’d seen it trashed before, and of course he’d help. He’d heard all the stories, all the complaints. Josie knew he was tired of it.

Before she knew it the door was back on its hinges and tightened properly.

“Good as new,” Noah didn’t smile about it. As always, Mr. Matter of fact.

“Great.” She shrugged and got her bed made. Why? She didn’t know. What was the point of making a bed?

“You got any juice,” Noah asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He went off to the kitchen.

“Josie!” She’d never heard his voice that loud. The echo sounded like a warning.

Josie jerked herself up and went to see what was up.

“Is there always this much blood in your kitchen?” Noah glared back at Josie.

She saw the blood on the floor and by the sink. She couldn’t believe it. She cringed, shaking her head, no.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He kept staring at the blood.

“I dunno.” Well, she sort of knew. “I-I did hit him.”

“Then what?”

“I was here,” but she couldn’t remember exactly how long, “Then I walked the streets for a while just thinking why I had hit him. I was afraid. I didn’t want to wait and let him hit me. I mean, I know they say that’s the only way they’d help me at the school if I did, but I-I just hit him with a frying pan.”

“Where’s the frying pan?”

“I don’t know.” Josie didn’t see it anywhere.

“Could anyone else have came in and-” Noah squinted hard then. “We gotta get out of here.”

Josie nodded. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Couldn’t she at least get her laptop?