# Ending 1.5 Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Game
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Another alarm, another morning, another regretful parting from Fang, made even worse by taking Jingo’s guitar back with me. I really hope she’ll be okay without me. My phone is maxed out on volume in case any emergencies happen, class disruptions be damned.
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Focus, Anon. First thing on the agenda, returning the guitar to Jingo. A quick walk to the music room and handing it to him is all I need. Next is homeroom. With Naomi. This is gonna suck…
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“Hey, Anon.” I can barely get my ass in a seat before Naomi’s sugary voice ruins my day. She continues without waiting for a response. “So… I know Fang didn’t have a great prom night, and I was just wondering how she- they… are doing.” Considering our conversation before we went to prom, I know exactly how she feels about Fang and I. Her facade is just insulting at this point.
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“It’s been a rough week, Naomi,” I grumble. “They’re coming to school tomorrow, and I am asking you - very, very nicely - to stay away from them while they are here.”
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“And why is that?”
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“Because I told them about your stupid fucking plan, and now they’re pissed off to high hell at you. Please, just don’t bother them, and don’t get Naser to bother them. That’s all I ask.”
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“Fang’s health is very important to Naser and myself, Anon.” I clench my fists and grit my teeth. Less than a minute and I’m already at my limit with this bubbly bitch.
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“I know. I’m doing my best to help, which is why I’m telling you to keep your snout out of their business. Because if you don’t, it will only make things worse. Understand?”
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“Alright, Anon. I understand.” Oh, thank fucking Raptor Jesus. “Just remember, graduation is only two weeks away. It would be for the best if Fang graduated with the rest of us, wouldn’t it?” Holy shit, shut the fuck up already.
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“Yes, it would be, and that’s part of how I’m helping.” Satisfied with this answer, she turns away and doesn’t bother me for the rest of the period. How the fuck does Naser deal with this chick?
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Classes come and go, and soon enough, lunch is upon me. Science was complete hell. Every time I looked across my table to the empty spot, I felt a terrible pang in my heart and a desperate need to text Fang and check up on her. I pushed the urges away, confident if she really needed something, she would let me know.
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Trish elected to leave me be during math, and while it wasn’t on purpose, I had avoided Naser during every period change. It at least gave me some time to think about what to say and ask. Steeling myself, I enter the cafeteria and scan the room for Naser. That fuck-ugly jacket is usually a lighthouse in this sea of rainbow-colored creatures, so where is it?
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“Anon,” Naser calls from behind me. I whip around and spot him, a scowl on his face that rivaled his fathers. I feel an echo of pain from the beating Naser gave me two months ago for an eerily similar reason to today’s meeting.
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“Uh, hey, Naser.” He steps forward, leveraging his height and general fitness against me. “Look, I know, things fell through, I’m sorry!” His piercing stare remains, but he waits for me to continue. “Something came up, threw a wrench into everything, and it’s pretty much fucked. I know you want to help, and you still can, just hear me out.” He lets go of some of his anger, staying quiet. “Fang’s coming to school tomorrow. They’re still kind of rattled, so take it easy on them. There’s an acoustic guitar in their room, and if you bring that tomorrow, it should make the day and weekend a lot easier on us.”
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“Alright,” he sighs. “Do not fuck with me, Anon. If there’s another sudden ‘change of plans’, you and I are going to have a problem, and being my sibling’s boyfriend will not save you from that. Clear?” Good God, this guy can be downright terrifying when he wants to.
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“Crystal. No more games. You trust me, right?”
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“Gonna be honest, you don’t make it easy, but I don’t really have a choice.”
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“I… yeah. I’m trying, but I wasn’t really expecting to be in the middle of everything like this. It’s not easy.”
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“I feel you. Just, please, you need anything, you know I’m here. I’ll get you a guitar tomorrow. Remember that finals are next week, and it’s important that Fang graduates.”
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“Don’t worry, I’m getting spare homework and we’ll spend some time studying over the weekend.” Naser looks away, resigning the remaining trust he has in me.
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“I’ll leave you to it, then. See you two tomorrow.” I nod and he walks away, settling next to Naomi off at one of the tables.
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Some food in me and a couple of periods later, the final bell of the day rings, signalling my time to leave. I didn’t get any urgent calls or texts from Fang, but it’s the end of the day and I need to satiate my mind. Walking down the sidewalk, I pull out my phone and write part of a text message, but get interrupted by the honking of a car right next to me.
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I glare at the machine that dared take my attention from Fang. It’s a bulky thing, with black paint, tinted windows, grill guards on the front and back… wait, that looks familiar.
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The passenger side window rolls down, revealing Ripley staring daggers straight into my soul.
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“Get in,” he demands. I look down the street, then back to his car. There’s no way- “Now.” Fuck! Reluctantly, I step over, yank the door open, and clamber into the passenger seat. He stays silent, eyes focused on the road as we ride off to God knows where. My mind races as fast as my heart does. What would be worse? His house? Jail? A cemetery? My apartment, to confront Fang again? Somewhere nobody will ever find us?
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He pulls into the parking lot of a gas station off of the main road, shutting the car off. Looking forward, hands still clutching the steering wheel, he speaks.
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“When I signed up for the force, I took an oath. I have a duty to this city and its people, Anon. In order to uphold that oath and ensure the people’s safety, I need to know: Is Fang a threat?”
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“W-what? I- no, no she isn’t.”
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“Are you sure?” he asks, turning to face me. “Two days ago, I was almost shot by my daughter. The same daughter that stole a gun to - in your own words - kill one of her classmates. Right now, you are the only link I have to Fang that doesn’t involve a SWAT team.” He leans towards me, lowering his voice. “If there is a possibility of an incident occurring, I need to know before it happens, and before someone gets hurt. Or worse.” The last word sends a chill down my spine. A flash of Fang’s last breakdown plays in my mind. She was ready…
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I shake my head, banishing these thoughts. I have to trust her. “No, no. Fang is not going to hurt anyone.” He lowers back into his seat, hands falling from the wheel and onto his legs.
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“That wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied to me, Anon. Unless you expect me to believe Fang needed seven bullets for one person. With a six-shot revolver.” Fuck… “I understand. It was a high-stress situation. You thought it would make it easier if you just let me go with a part of it. No more of that. You tell me everything that’s happened since you two left on prom night, up to today. No bullshit, or I’ll have to turn this into a real interrogation.”
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I sink into my seat, collecting my thoughts and spilling them out. The string splitting in two just before showtime. The two-bass disaster that cut their one song short. Taking her home, letting loose my secret, getting into a fight and causing a breakdown. She leaves the following morning and comes back that night to apologize. She attempts to sneak out Monday morning. She begs me to stay, then shows me why. She puts her claws to my throat, but relents. The next day, you show up while I try to console her, causing another breakdown. Another day of attempted consoling, and the threat of a truancy report.
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"And that's everything up to today. She's going to school tomorrow, as well as the rest of the semester," I finish. Ripley’s grimace had deepened further with every sentence of my explanation, the worst-case scenario settled firmly in his mind.
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"She's going to be within arm's reach of the same people she was thinking about killing less than a week ago,” he mutters. “I don't think I need to explain any further why that is a terrible idea."
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"What other choice is there?"
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"Getting her the help she needs. From a professional, not you. I'm sure the school can work with me, understanding that it's necessary to prevent any harm befalling its students."
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"How are you going to do that? Barge in, like last time?" He flinches, the memory of staring down his armed daughter still fresh in his mind. "She doesn't want anything to do with you. Anything you try to force on her, she'll push back on twice as hard."
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"What the hell do you think you're asking of me, boy?"
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"Trust me."
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"Trust you?” he spits. “What have you done to earn a single ounce of my trust?"
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"Naser trusts me. And right now, I'm the only person Fang trusts. Which means I'm the only person that can get through and help her."
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"And how are you doing that? Telling her everything is okay and going on like nothing happened?"
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"Better than threatening the only person she cares about with jail time," I retort. He clenches his teeth and narrows his eyes. Shit, that might have been too far. He leans over and points an accusatory claw dangerously close to my heart, his voice lowering to a near whisper.
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"You are playing a dangerous fucking game, Anon. I don't know why you think you know better than I do, but I have half a mind to throw you in prison for daring to fuck around with my daughter like this. How does conspiracy to commit murder sound?"
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You know what? Fuck it. I'm all in.
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"I'm the only reason she's still alive."
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His eyes widen with fury, his claw retreating into a tight fist. I remain motionless, daring him to act. He shifts back into his seat, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a police badge. He stares at it, arm shaking and fist clenched around it, desperate to throw the book at me. Growling, he places it back in his pocket and turns the ignition key.
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"Fine. If you think you're the only one that can do anything, then do it. Get her the help she needs. From a professional. Fuck this up, and I promise, you will wish you never stepped foot in this city." He slams the stick into reverse and peels out of the parking spot, then heads back onto the main road.
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Within minutes, we're in front of my apartment complex.
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"Get out," he demands. I shove the door open and leap out of the car, slamming it behind me. It roars away, leaving me in the relative safety of Skin Row.
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"Haah… fuuuuuuuck…" I groan, propping myself against a wall. I feel like I just made a deal with the devil. Or worse. How am I even going to bring this up to Fang? If she finds out her dad put me up to this, she won’t think twice about saying no. But… can I really do this on my own?
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I at least have to ask. Not today, of course, but soon. Just one question. How bad could it be? I shake my head and regain my composure. That will be dealt with in time. Right now, Fang needs to be ready for tomorrow.
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I enter the apartment and… silence. Through the measly kitchen and into the living room, I notice the bed empty and the bathroom door closed. I collapse into my chair, failing to slow my racing heart. I look for something to distract me, eyes falling on a solitary feather left on the mattress. I pick it up and turn it over in my hand, running my finger across the soft vane. It’s one of the larger ones, probably from the end of her wing.
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I get only a moment of respite before the realization hits.
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“Fang? You in there?” I hesitantly call out. No response, the thickening tension slowing the flow of time itself. “Fang?” I ask again, knocking on the bathroom door. I hear something from the other side, but it’s unidentifiable. “You alright?”
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“I… I…” she moans. I try the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Wait, don’t…” Damn it, I should have prepared more for this.
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“Let me help you. Open the door.”
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“It’s… it’s really bad.”
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“I don’t care, please just let me in.” A single footstep, and the lock clicks. The knob turns slowly, and the door opens even slower. Bloodstained fingertips grip the edge of the door and Fang peeks around it, eyes red and breaths heavy. The tiny sliver of the bathroom I can see paints a dreadful picture. I tear my focus from it, locking eyes with Fang. She went out of her way to help me when I got knocked down the stairs. It would be criminal to not return the favor.
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I push against the door and she gives way, allowing me a full look at the macabre scene. Blood in every place imaginable - smears in her hair, streaks down her arms, streams across her wings, spatters and flecks on her clothes.
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“Come on,” I say, trying to stifle my panic. “Let’s clean this up.” I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and walk over to the bed. Fang hesitates as I take a seat. “I can clean the sheets later. Sit.” She gently lowers herself onto the bed and I open the kit. First, we… uh… hmm.
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“I’m sorry…” she starts.
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“Don’t. We’ll talk about it later. Right now I need some pointers.”
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Fang gives me a rundown on the equipment in the kit. Rag for cleaning wounds, antiseptic for the nastier ones. Bandages for the body, some sort of liquid bandage for the wings. I get to work, starting with her arms.
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“So, you talked to Trish or Reed lately?” I ask, trying to shift her focus away from the two of us. She nods, but says nothing more. “You tell them you’re going to school tomorrow?”
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“Yeah, but… I don’t- mmf… I don’t know if I want to talk to them.”
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“If you need some space you should tell them, if you need it to ease back into things.”
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“There’s too much that can go wrong. I’m not sure if I want to go anymore.”
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“What are you gonna do if you don’t? You heard what Spears said.”
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“Well, I…” She punches the bed. “Fuck! What can I do? God, if Naomi even tries talking to me, I don’t know what I’d do. Just thinking about her pisses me off.”
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“Hey, I’ve taken care of Naomi, and Naser won’t bother us too much. Everyone else will be worrying about finals, so as long as you tell Trish and Reed what you need to tell them, everything will be fine. Alright?”
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“How? How can you know that?”
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“What do you think I spent all day doing? The field is ready, just try to relax. We’ll cruise through Friday, and have the weekend to figure the rest of this out ourselves.”
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“Okay…” she sighs, falling quiet as I continue my amateur medical treatment. After another few minutes, I survey the job.
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“Alright, I think that’s all the bleeding. Next, we should-” Fang collapses sideways onto the bed, groaning. “Fang! Shit, what’s wrong, are you-!” She holds a hand up to my chest.
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“Easy, I’m just tired.”
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“Oh, o-okay…” Fucking hell… “Have you eaten today?”
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“...No…”
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“Alright, let me fix something up.” After giving her a bottle of water, I rummage through the kitchen to see what’s left. Fuck, I really need to go to the store. This place is running on fumes. Sandwiches will have to do for now. At least we have barbecue sauce.
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After coaxing Fang out of her bloodstained clothes and into something mildly more comfortable, I took a trip to the laundry room downstairs. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best I could do, seeing as she lacked a spare change of clothes. When all of that is said and done, I wriggle into bed exhausted. What an absolute fucking day it has been. Things better start looking up, and looking up real fucking well.