“Calliope, I can’t understand what you’re saying. Is your brother there?”

“Yeah. He’s with Echo.”

“Give him the phone.”

“But his hands are all bloody…”

“Give your brother the phone!” he roared.

I lifted my phone in Cody’s direction, and he must have been watching me, because he grabbed it right away.

“Grease, fuck! It’s bad, man,” he spoke into the phone softly, taking a few steps away from where Farrah and I were huddled over Echo.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity as we sat guard over Echo’s body. Farrah was still surprisingly silent, but she reached out and grabbed my hand as we waited. I wasn’t sure what we were waiting for, but the minute I heard the roar of multiple Harleys, my entire body sagged in relief.

As the men parked their bikes and came toward us, sirens began to fill the air.

“You call the cops?” a large biker I’d never seen before asked Cody.

“Nah,” he answered, pulling the phone away from his ear to gesture with it. “Grease. It was probably the neighbors.”

I watched the faces of the men around me as they took in the scene, and only a few were successful in maintaining their stoic expressions.

“You know who did it?” a man with tattoos on his face asked Farrah and me, kneeling next to Echo and pulling something out of the chest pocket of Echo’s shirt.

“No,” I answered, shaking my head a little.

“Good. That’s exactly what you tell the cops,” he told me ominously before standing back up and disappearing into the crowd.

I sat there in a daze as an ambulance pulled in with its lights flashing, and I didn’t move a muscle when two policemen ordered everyone to put their hands up.

They treated me like a threat, and as they took Echo away, I lay handcuffed, face down on the ground, less than a foot from his blood.

The rest of the day and into the night was a blur of giving statements and listening to apologies from weary policemen. They’d eventually uncuffed me, realizing that I was a victim, though I didn’t feel like one. I was just a bystander to something horrific that I was unable to talk about but would never forget.

Late that night, after the police had left the apartment and the place was quiet, Farrah finally spoke.

“I never thought that I could feel worse than the night I realized my mom would never love me,” she told me quietly. “I was wrong.”

“Things can always get worse,” I told her seriously.

“I don’t know what could be worse than this.”

“Me, either,” I answered, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

We were quiet for a while, listening to Cody pace back and forth in the kitchen. After all of the trauma of the afternoon, there was nothing for us to do. There were no papers to sign, no questions to answer, just… nothing.

Eventually Farrah stood, pulling me with her, and headed toward the bathroom.

“We need to take a shower,” she told me flatly, pushing the door open and ushering me inside.

She stripped down to her underwear, throwing her clothes out the door as she took them off, while I turned on the water. I assumed she wanted me to stay with her, so I made no move to leave, but was surprised when she came over and started pulling at my t-shirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously as I let her pull it over my head.

“You need to take a shower.”

“Okay, I’ll take one when you’re done,” I told her gently, trying to pull her fingers from the front of my jeans.

“You need to take one now,” she mumbled urgently, looking into my eyes. “You’ve got bloo—you’ve got bloo—you need to take off these clothes. You need to take a shower right now!”

I looked down in surprise, realizing for the first time that I was covered in dried blood.

“Okay, baby girl. I’ll take a shower now,” I answered her quietly, moving her hands so I could strip off my jeans. “Climb in.”

The shower ran red when we climbed inside, and Farrah kept her eyes pointed toward the ceiling as she grabbed my body wash and started scrubbing. We passed it back and forth, washing our arms and torsos until the half-full bottle was completely gone. Then we started on our hair.

Farrah was rinsing her hair for the second time when Asa walked into the bathroom and slowly pulled back the curtain. I could see the questions in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word as he reached out a hand to me.

“We need towels, baby,” I told him quietly, ignoring his hand.

“Okay,” he answered hoarsely, looking between Farrah and me before walking back out.

“Okay, Farrah, that’s enough,” I told her gently as she started to pick up the shampoo bottle. I reached behind her and turned off the water as her arms dropped down to her sides. I wrung out her hair while she stood quietly, her eyes vacant.

“Here’s your towels, Sugar,” Asa called, pulling open the curtain. “You need some help?”

“No, I’ve got her,” I assured him. “I’m going to get her into some clothes and then I’ll be out.”

“Okay,” he answered, searching my face as he put a hand on my wet cheek. “Call if you need me.”

I gave him a nod and turned back to Farrah, wrapping one of the towels around me and using the other to dry her off. I held her hand as I led her to my bedroom, but her grip was nonexistent.