Komal Kant - Wrong Side of Town

He approached us, his steps slow and deliberate. That smirk still lingered around his mouth as he pulled out a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and took out a fifty dollar bill.

“Get yourself some real food, Kid,” he said, placing it down on the kitchen table and walking to the doorway. He glanced back at Tyson who still hadn’t moved. “Let’s go, Son.”

Like an obedient puppy, Tyson’s head jerked up and he hurried after Ryder, not looking at any of us as he passed.

The front door slammed shut and an eerie silence descended upon the house.

The silence was brief, because a few seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Vincent

All I saw was red and black.

That’s all I saw as my hands grabbed the edge of the kitchen table and overturned it. That’s all I saw as my finger closed around the chair, lifting it up. That’s all I saw as I began smashing the chair against the floor, wood splintering around me

Screaming filled my ears, but I didn’t pause.

My feet carried me to the kitchen counter and I knocked everything to the ground in one motion. Cutlery, bottles, and God-knows what else, crashed to the floor. There was the sound of something shattering, but I didn’t look around to see what.

My fists found the wall and I began punching, over and over again. The pain shooting through my knuckles barely registered. The anger numbed it all. All I saw was red. All I saw was Ryder’s face.

“Vincent, stop!” The voice was screaming in my ear. Someone was pulling me back, pulling me away. “Vincent, please!”

She sounded desperate, and the fear in her voice was sobering. Staggering, I let her pull me back and gazed into her eyes, trying to find something to hold onto.

Estella’s whiskey eyes were like an anchor; something about her stabilized me. My breathing slowed, but it was ragged and uneven.

I couldn’t get Ryder’s voice out of my head. I couldn’t forget the cruel smirk that had stretched across his face, like it satisfied him to see everyone crumble around him. That was his thing—he liked to mess with people’s heads, and he’d definitely messed with mine.

“You need to calm down. For Dylan. Calm down for him.”

Her words hit home, and I turned to find Dil pressed against the wall, his chest heaving up and down as silent sobs wracked his chest.

Panic shot through me, and I reached Dil in two strides, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Shit, Dil! Dil! Breathe! Breathe, Dil!”

Dylan’s breathing wasn’t slowing as he locked eyes with me, fear and desperation racing through them. Words were forming on his mouth, but they weren’t coming out.

Adrenaline surged through me, and I picked Dylan up and raced to the bathroom, kicking the door open with a foot. From behind me, Estella was crying, asking me what was wrong. I couldn’t answer her. I had to focus on my brother.

Placing Dylan down on the toilet seat, I searched through the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out his inhaler. "Breathe in, Dil,” I said, my voice gentle as I put the inhaler in his mouth and sprayed it.

Dylan took desperate gulps, and I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Take your time. You’re gonna be okay, Kid.”

“He’s asthmatic.” Estella’s voice was quiet as she knelt down beside me, and I dared a glance at her.

Her face was wet with tears as she took Dil’s hand in hers. Having her close to him must’ve been a good thing, because Dylan’s breathing slowed down and his face wasn’t so pale anymore.

There was no way in hell I was going to risk him having another attack, so I sprayed the inhaler two more times and made him sit there for five minutes until I was sure he wasn’t going to relapse.

Eventually, he shot me a look of annoyance and pulled the inhaler out of his mouth. “I’m fine, Vin.” His voice was soft and faint. “I want to sleep.”

“Sure, kid. I’ll take you to bed.” I took the inhaler from him before picking him up again and carrying him to his room. Estella followed us but hesitated in the doorway of Dylan’s room.

As I lay Dylan down on his bed, he whispered to me, “Can you tell Estella to come in?”

“Sure, Kid.”

I half-turned to the doorway, not wanting to make eye contact with her. “Stelle, Dylan wants you in here.”

“Oh, sure.” Estella approached the bed and sat on the edge on the opposite side from me. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” She pressed a hand to his forehead and you could practically see the difference in his face at having her beside him.

“Tired,” he said, simply. His brow was furrowed and there was a small pout on his mouth; something was bothering him. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Startled, Estella looked up and our eyes met. She seemed torn between what she wanted and what Dylan wanted. It was like she was silently begging me for an out.

There was no reason for her to come back here. Ryder wasn’t happy that she played “mom” or “wife” or whatever it was that she did. He was going to be an ass to her if she came back. Ryder had made his stance clear—if knocking Estella’s food to the floor wasn’t clear enough, I didn’t know what was. He didn’t want her around.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to break my kid brother’s heart. “Dylan, I don’t think Estella is gonna—”

“Of course I’ll come back,” Estella responded, lacing her hand with Dylan’s. “I still have to teach you how to make a blueberry pie, don’t I?”

What the hell? Was this girl fucking insane? Didn’t she get Rye’s message?

Trying to catch Estella’s eye had suddenly become my number one priority. I had to make her understand that she couldn’t come back here if she valued her life. She didn’t have to do this to make Dil feel better. We’d find him another tutor—a guy or an old woman. Someone. Anyone. Just not her.

“Really, Estella?” Dylan asked, a smile spreading across his face at her words.

“Really, Dylan.” Estella gave him a small nod. “Now, get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Estella stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my brother.

“I’m gonna take Estella home. I’ll tell Tyson to come back home and keep an eye on ya. You gonna be okay ‘til then?” I asked, helping Dylan get under the covers.

“Yep.” Dylan’s eyes were already closing.

“If you need anything, call me.”

Dylan nodded once to let me know that he’d heard me, and I walked out of the room and headed outside. Estella was standing by my bike, fixated on the dirt road that turned into our property. Her body was tense, as though she was preparing herself for something.

“We need to talk.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even reached her.

When she turned to face me, there was a crease on the center of her forehead. A frown was playing around her mouth; all traces of the smile she’d had on for Dylan had disappeared. The look made me falter and I forgot what I wanted to talk to her about.

It ate me up inside knowing that I couldn’t bring a smile to her face the way Dylan did. Sure, she’d been truly happy when I’d taken her to the creek, but that had been temporary. I could never really make her happy. There was too much wrong with me. She was a good girl, and I was from the wrong side of town.

“Yes, Vincent, we do need to talk.” Her frown deepened and anger flitted through her eyes. The sheer intensity of them made me take a step back for good measure. Estella wasn’t one to get angry. Yeah, she rose to the challenge and didn’t back down, but I had never seen her angry like this before.

“What happened today was not okay,” she pressed on, not giving me a chance to speak. “Dylan can’t be exposed to behavior like that, ever. I can’t believe the way you all speak in front of him! He’s a child!”

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. No woman had ever spoken to me like that, like I was a badly behaved kid. Within five seconds, I had lost complete control of the situation. And my balls. They’d done a runner on me, too.

“Do you know what triggered Dylan’s asthma attack today?” She paused for a second. “Fear, Vincent. Anxiety. Instability. That’s why your ten-year-old brother had an asthma attack. He’s scared of you.”

That’s when I snapped.

This girl, who didn’t know a fucking thing about me, could tell me off; she could get mad at me for losing control, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her tell me that my own brother was scared of me. Not when I fucking loved that kid more than anything else on this planet.

My feet moved forward until I was inches away from Estella. Something darted across her face—fear, repulsion, wariness. I didn’t know what she was feeling, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to care.

“Don’t you dare say that to me.” My voice was low, but each word sounded dangerous as it left my mouth. “I love Dylan more than you’ll ever know. And he loves me too. I’m all he’s got. And he’s all I got. Don’t come into our lives and tell me that he’s scared of me, ‘cause that ain’t the truth. You don’t know shit about us, so fuck off to your perfect life in suburbia. We don’t need you.”

Once the words left my mouth, I felt like a complete asshole. Especially since Estella looked like she was going to start crying again. The frown had left her face; instead she looked like someone had kicked her in the gut. That would be me.

“You think I live a perfect life?”

I didn’t say anything—there was nothing left for me to say. I’d already fucked up. I knew what I’d said had hurt her, especially after she’d told me that her mother had also abandoned her.