Page 89 of Mistaken Prejudice

“What?” I gasped at him. “What did you do?”

He suddenly turned and pushed me against the wall. My heart raced, and I was terrified I made him angry.

With our faces inches apart, I couldn’t miss the intensity of his eyes, and I held my breath as he examined me.

He reminded me of the Doberman one of my mom’s boyfriends once had. The first time I reached my hand to pet him, he almost bit it off. I was only allowed to touch him after he trusted me and believed I wouldn’t hurt him.

Nerves twisted my gut as I waited for my judgment. Was he going to trust me? Or would he bite my hand off?

“I shot someone,” he finally spoke.

“You did?” I was almost too scared to ask.

He nodded.

“Why?”

“The guy deserved it.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?” He tilted his head. “What got you here?”

“I beat someone with a baseball bat.”

It then occurred to me that my reasons for being here weren’t much better.

“Did he deserve it?” he asked with a stony face.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” A smile broke his stoic expression, and his grin was contagious.

“Yeah?” I asked as he got up from my bed and climbed back into his. My question remained unanswered as the cell went quiet again, and I was afraid it was the end of it. He’d want nothing to do with me, and I’d be lonely again. But after a few more moments of terrorizing silence, he spoke.

“Chica.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Your nickname.”

I hugged my knees tighter. Chica. Wasn’t that a girl’s name? Disappointment washed over me but was quickly erased as he talked again.

“You don’t need to cry again, Chica. From now on, you’re no longer alone. You’ve got me.”

The nickname he gave me wasn’t so bad after all.

“H-how did you know I was alone?”

“’Cause we all are.”

But we weren’t. Not anymore. From that moment on, we had each other. I didn’t know why I was so sure of it. After all, we’d just met. But I was, and something inside of me told me this might be for good.

Since our fight a week ago, this memory continued to haunt me. It played in my head repeatedly like a never-ending loop, and each time was worse. Diesel hadn’t spoken to me since, not even a word. It was the longest we ever went without talking. I tried to apologize, to make up for the things I said, but it was pointless.

Most of the days, he wasn’t even around. He skipped school, and the only times I got to see him were when he came back to grab some clothes.

Chief told me not to worry, to give Diesel time and space, and to believe in our relationship. Little did he know that my relationship with Diesel was probably ruined, and it was all thanks to me being an asshole with my head up my ass.