Life Before Damaged, Vol. 1 by H.M. Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

thought came from.  
    As Pete bobs and weaves through traffic, heading back onto Long Island, we sit in comfortable silence. The inky sky is perfect, save a spattering of stars. I stare at them, wondering if this is my last night of freedom. I deserve whatever happens to me. Hosting a rave was reckless. I know exactly what my father will say when he finds out, and I will deserve it. I just want a few more minutes to process everything and stop shaking. My hands won’t stay still, even though I’ve tucked them in the crooks of my arms. It makes my nails throb, but pretty much everything makes them hurt.  
    Pete handles his car like he’s been driving it his entire life. He’s fast and reckless; if I wasn’t in shock, I’d be screaming right now. He cuts across three lanes of traffic, and then darts through a just-turned-red light, before flooring it onto the expressway. He barely slows down to see if there’s oncoming traffic.
    As he shifts gears, his elbow bumps into mine. The jolt makes me pull my face off the glass and glance over at him. As soon as we’re barreling down the expressway, he retrieves a cell phone from his back pocket. Pete fumbles with the screen and sets it down on the console in front of him.  
    The interior of his car is all brand new supple red leather. The dashboard has multiple circular chrome dials. The car swerves a little bit, as he gets the phone in place. I tense in my seat, trying not to grab the door. Erin hates it when I do that, even though she can’t drive worth a damn. Well, that’s not exactly true. She can drive into things, like shopping carts and the guardrail on the Sagtikos Parkway. How do you hit a parkway rail? It’s not like they jump out and say BOO!  
    Pete’s voice is firm, “Siri, call Logan.”
    The phone rings through the car’s sound system, breaking the silence. Yeah, I'm pretty sure Bluetooth technology didn't exist back in the 1960's. According to re-runs, the best the 1960’s had to offer for cellular technology was Maxwell Smart’s shoe phone. I still want one of those.  
    After a couple of rings, we hear a resounding click. A male voice mumbles, "Mrphmph! Hello?" Whoever he is, he was obviously sleeping.
    "Great. You're awake. Logan, it's Pete. Be in my quarters in forty-five minutes and bring your stuff." Wow. That was curt.
    "No."  
    "It wasn't a request, Logan. Be there in forty-five and bring your equipment. I need your help with... something." Pete keeps his eyes on the road. He has a severe look on his face as he speaks. Pete clenches and relaxes his jaw repeatedly, tightening his grip on the wheel as he does it.
    "Pete, I'm not your fucking house nurse. I'm not going to be at the ready 24/7 to stitch you up after each of your barroom brawls. Get your shit together, do like everyone else, and wait in line at the ER. Call me if you're dying, but don't ever wake me up again just to fix up your pretty face."
    Pete’s nostrils flare like he’s losing his temper. "It's not for me, it's for someone else." Pete's eyes glance my way briefly when he says this.  
    I'm not sure I like where this is going. I don't want anyone to know about tonight. I don’t want anyone seeing me. I just wanted him to drop me off at Erin's apartment and be done with it all. I needed an escape plan and he was available. I open my mouth to interrupt their conversation, to protest, but he raises his right hand from the polished wood steering wheel, motioning for me to keep quiet. All righty then, mouth closed it is.  
    The man on the other line lets out a rush of air. "What do you mean, not for you? Jesus, Pete! Please don't tell me you knocked someone up? Keep it covered or keep it in your pants for chrissake! If you think I'm going to help you run your own private abor..."
    Before the man can finish his sentence, Pete cuts him off of the sound system by placing the phone to his ear.  
    Okay, that was awkward. I bite my lip and look down at my battered hands, trying to