Trigger warning: violence, transphobia and racism

Several agonizing minutes have passed since Jeremiah and I began playing that racing game again. My eyes dart back and forth between the screen and Jeremiah. My car skids off the road. I’m afraid he’ll notice my apprehension, but he takes it as an advantage and his car moves into first place. But I can’t focus on the game. So many questions keep running through my mind and I still feel on edge. I am unable to come up with a solution.

We finish the race, Jeremiah receiving another win, when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks the screen. “He should be back by now,” he mutters. “It’s been nearly half an hour since he left.”

I pause, not having realized how much time had passed. “Do you think something is wrong?”

He is silent for a moment before he dials Nicky’s number. I watch his foot tapping anxiously on the floor as the phone rings and rings. He lets out a huff as Nicky doesn’t answer and stands. “I’m going to go check. You can just wait here if you want.”

In a split second I weigh the options. I should keep an eye on him. For all I know he could be lying. What if Nicky has gone to talk to the police? What if this was all just a set-up and he plans to leave me here alone to trap me? My heart begins to pound, and I stand quickly.

“I will go,” I tell him, going to the door.

I slip my shoes on and we head out. As we walk, we do not exchange any words. I find myself analyzing my surroundings. There is hardly a person out walking and it is incredibly quiet. There is a light mist in the air that causes the streetlights to have an eerie glow. I watch the lights, them being so sparse compared to Tokyo.

A few minutes later we find ourselves at a convenience store and walk in. Jeremiah asks the clerk if she had seen Nicky. She tells us he had been in several minutes ago but had already left. We walk back out and Jeremiah pulls out his phone, calling him again. Yet there is still no answer. His jaw sets and he exhales sharply, clutching at the phone.

This is not a trick. His eyes are anxious and his body rigid. He truly does not know where his friend is. So then, where did Nicky go? He shoves the phone back into his pocket and turns, looking around.

“Um…let’s try going back the way we came. Maybe we missed something,” he says.

I nod and follow him. As we walk, I keep my eyes peeled. If he had taken the same route back to the apartment, how could we have missed him though? Something must have happened that made him decide to take a different path. Then again, this is all assuming he wanted to go back with me there.

“Is there a different way back?” I suggest.

“Yeah, but that goes right by…” he trails off, stopping in his tracks. His eyes widen. “Shit! I know where he is!”

Suddenly, he takes off at full speed. I follow, right on his heels.

“I’m such an idiot! I should have gone with him,” Jeremiah says, his voice tight.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Those guys you got in a fight with before, that’s Dustin and his gang. They’ve harassed Nicky for years, ever since middle school,” he tells me. “They stopped for a while, but ever since that fight the other day they’ve been in a bad mood. I should’ve known better dammit!”

I remain silent, unsure what to say. We turn onto a new street and down an unpaved alleyway. I can hear voices ahead of us, shouting. Once at the end of the alley we find ourselves in a vacant lot surrounded by buildings. There are what look to be junk piles everywhere, but upon closer inspection they are seating areas made from old chairs, couches, even an old car.

In the middle is a crowd of about fifteen people and I notice one of them wearing an arm sling. On the other side are two men holding a person up by the arms while the other beats on him. Upon seeing the blond hair, I realize it is Nicky. Blood drips to the ground beneath him and I feel a burning pain in my gut.

“Nicky!” Jeremiah shouts and charges.

“Wait, they will—” However, I am too late as a group of them split off and tackle Jeremiah.

The guy who is beating Nicky turns around. It is one of the men from before who had attacked Kiara, the one with the lip piercing. He sees me there and glowers.

“Well, I was doing this to send a message to you but looks like I didn’t have to wait long for you to get it,” he says.

I stare at the scene before me, my breath short. My fists shake as I ball them up. Why? Why is it they can never come to me directly? Why do they always have to involve someone innocent?

He raises his hand, his knuckles covered in blood, and points at me. “You threw the first punch. By doing that you challenged me. I am going to make you suffer, dumbass chink. You can’t just walk into my town and expect me to roll over.”

Then he points to Jeremiah who is doing his best to fight off his attackers. “And you even went and brought us another punching bag! Not that it excuses you for your stupidity, but I’m grateful for the extra meat.”

I can feel my blood boiling, but my heart feels like it is being crushed. This is my fault. I really am nothing but trouble.

Nicky slowly raises his head up and his face is a bloody mess, his glasses on the ground beneath him. “Fuck you,” he spits, his voice like a dagger.

The guy glares then whirls around. “You just haven’t had enough, have you little girl?”

Nicky grins, chuckling. “You’re just mad…my dick is…bigger than yours.”

As Dustin swings, I throw myself between him and Nicky, his fist hitting my cheek. Pain spreads across my face, but it isn’t near enough to send me to the ground.

He rights himself and glares at me. “Don’t worry, you’re next chink!”

“Let them go. This is my fault. It is with you and me,” I tell him.

“Are you kidding me?” he says and laughs. “You think you can play the hero? What bullshit!”

What about this makes me a hero? This is all my fault. There is no use trying to talk him out of this. I quickly glance around. Jeremiah is fighting as much as he can but being surrounded, he does not have much advantage. I can hear him taking just as many hits as he is throwing, if not more. Behind me I hear Nicky struggling for breath. I need to get them away from this place.

First however, I need to free Nicky while Jeremiah is still capable of holding his own. I begin to plan out my attack, but then I suddenly remember Reba’s words. If I fight here, I will no longer be welcome in her house.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jeremiah go down and they dive on him, kicking and punching. Without another second’s delay I launch my palm into Dustin’s diaphragm, a gust of air bursting from his mouth. He drops to the ground gasping for breath.

I spin around, chopping each of the men in the neck, causing them to drop Nicky and crumple to the ground in a heap. I kneel and pick-up Nicky’s glasses, noticing one of the lenses is shattered.

“Here,” I say, handing them to him as he slowly sits up, cringing from the pain.

He silently takes them, and I suddenly feel a presence looming behind me. I find myself whirling around to see several men approaching intimidatingly. Well, at least they try to, but they have no idea what they are about to experience. I quickly take my stance. Jeremiah’s situation looks more dire. I cannot slip up. With a deep breath, I begin my attack.

As I take out one after another, they become more frantic. More and more reckless attacks. Their movements are child’s play, easy to read. The ones beating Jeremiah turn their attention to me. Bad mistake. Each one ends up sprawling on the ground.

Groaning and muttering can be heard from some of the guys, only they either are in too much pain or have no strength to get up. The two survivors stare with wide eyes and open mouths at their defeated comrades. However, they remain silent, unmoving. I can see the one with the sling trembling, knowing how far I am willing to go. I slowly make my way toward Nicky, keeping my eye on them while trying to catch my breath.

“Can you stand?” I ask him.

He says nothing, but slowly rises to his feet, picking up a plastic bag lying near. As we walk, stepping over a few guys, I keep my eye on Dustin, who has a death glare fixated on me. We reached Jeremiah, who is now standing and struggling for breath. Upon seeing Nicky approach, he quickly goes to examine Nicky’s face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes tormented. “I’m so sorry Nick. I should’ve been here sooner.”

“I think I’m okay,” he mutters. “Just bruised. But he broke my glasses.”

“We need to leave,” I say, my eyes still trained on Dustin. They both become quiet, and I follow as they begin to move.

“This ain’t over,” I hear Dustin growl.

I knew it would not be.