Bail

“I want you to come with me,” Fred whispered.

“Sorry, what?” I yelled back, swaying my hips to Houdini by Dua Lipa.

“I want you to come with me!” He took a hold of my arm, dragging me towards the exit.

“Fine, but make it quick. I told the DJ to play Karma by Jojo Siwa.”

“It’ll be super quick. I promise.”

We stepped outside and immediately, the cold wind slapped me in the face, lifting my dress up. I pushed it back down with my left hand, Fred still dragging me towards the back of the gym. “Fred, just tell me what’s going on.”

“You know what you did. Don’t act like it didn’t happen already.” He swung around angrily, his hand was still clasped around my right arm.

“I don’t know what I did, and let go!” I released my hand from his grip and shook it off, the red print radiating on my arm. “What has gotten into you? Come on, let’s go back to the dance.”

“No! We’re not going anywhere until you confess to what you did,” he spat. His hand drifted to his pants pocket.

“What did I do? If this is about stealing one of your hoodies again, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so sensitive over hoodies.” I hid my laugh.

“Don’t. Joke. Around. You know what? Since you’re not confessing, I guess I’ll confess first.” He dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved a black, shiny pistol. “Now you confess!”

“Fred…” I backed up, but my back hit the brick wall behind me, restricting my running access.

He stepped forward, the gun pointed directly at my chest, and started smiling. Maniacally.

I put my hands up. “Put the gun down, Fred,” I said desperately.

“Hm…you’re not confessing.” He was still grinning. “Whatever.”

Click.

Bang.

Heat washed over my arm, and I looked down, my eyes wide. Blood dripped down my bicep. The pain was excruciating.

“Oops,” Fred laughed. Throwing the gun backwards into the bushes. He slipped his gloves off and dropped them as my knees gave out.

“Fred,” I clasped my hand around my arm, blood seeping through my fingers. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know. Hold on, let me think,” Fred tapped his chin. “Huh, I still don’t know.”

“Fred, call an ambulance.”

“Bye, Tabitha.”

“Fred, don’t leave me!” I called out, but he was gone. No response. “Help, somebody help!”

I managed to stand up and staggered over to the entrance again. “I’ve been shot! Help!”

My screams must have made it over the blasting music because the DJ turned it off. Murmurs, whispers, complaints could all be heard until I yelled again, “Help!”

A crowd of students rushed outside. My best friend, Amelia, pushed towards the front.

“Is that Tabitha?” I could hear her. Her head popped out of the crowd. “Tabitha! What happened? Call an ambulance! Call nine-one-one!”

Teachers frantically pulled out their phones and knelt beside me as I fell back to the ground.

“Are you alright, Tabitha?”

“Stay with us, okay?”

“Does it hurt too much?”

“Does anyone have a bandana? A sock?”

“Here, use mine.”

A loud beeping noise and mechanical sounds interrupted me from my slumber. If it hadn't been for Amelia and my parents sitting next to me, I would’ve gone back to sleep, thinking it was a dream.

“Doc! She’s a-awake!” Dad stumbled over both his words and his untied shoelaces as he rushed to the doctor outside the room.

“Tabitha! Are you okay?” Mom asked, holding my uninjured hand gently, as if that arm too was wrapped in bandages.

“Just fine…and, hey. Where’s Fred?” I struggled to sit up.

“Jail. Prison. Where he should be.” Amelia tugged my shoulder back down so I lay on my back.

“I still don’t get why he shot me.”

“Neither do we, but he’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“He should honestly be put in an asylum for what he did. He didn’t have a reason to shoot me, he just said I did something…something…but I can’t think of one!” I retraced my steps before junior prom in my head, trying to remember where we were before the night started. I was eating at Burger King in the afternoon with Amelia…

“Hey, don’t stress out. I’m sure you did nothing wrong, I know you did nothing wrong. You were with me the entire time before prom. And besides, you were the better person in the relationship as well. If anything, you should’ve shot him for all the things he’d done to you…a-and your family…and me.”

“Amelia?” This time I sat up straight, pulling my hand away from my mother’s. “What do you mean, to you?”

“Well, there’s no point hiding it now. He tried to kiss me at homecoming when you first started dating. Then he continued trying again and again until, well, a week ago or so.” She fumbled with her car keys and her long press-ons. “But — but I swear I didn’t do anything to further his wishes! I just didn’t want to tell you ‘cause you like him so much.”

“Amelia…” I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes and reliving the sweet moments between Fred and I.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“No, I’m sorry. As a best friend, I should know these things. Maybe not specifically…that. But, also, that he was a red flag. A very distinct red flag. His flaws and misbehavior were all hidden by the rarely kind things he did to me throughout our relationship.”

“No…no. You didn’t have to know — I mean, it wasn’t in your control.” Amelia pulled me in for a hug, avoiding my bandaged arm as my mother sat stunned next to her.

Two and a half weeks later, I got the call to leave the hospital, but to also continue my physical therapy.

I met Fred in his cell. He was locked up, handcuffs strapped onto his two hands and the chain between dangling.

“Hi, there, Tabitha.” My name sounded venomous on his tongue.

“Fred-” I attempted to shoot him with the question that had been lingering in my head for the past five weeks.

He read my mind. “I shot you because I wanted to. I’ve been thinking about it. Does that make you feel better?”

“No…no, it doesn’t. Fred? You need help. You need serious help. You can’t…you shouldn’t shoot someone because you wanted to, in fact, ever. Unless it’s, like, self-defense or something-”

“I have help. Here. With me.”

“No, I mean an asylum. A hospital. Something to help you stop these thoughts from getting in your head.”

“No. Not when I’ve got you.” His eyes changed into a poisonous hint of red. I never knew that brown could shift into red in dark rooms.

I shook my head in disbelief. He could not be saying that to me. He should not be saying that to me. Not when he only shot, rather, abused me only, what, three…three and a half weeks ago?

I squinted my eyes. “Fred, you’re getting to my head. You need serious help.”

“Please, Tabitha. You bailed me out last time.”

“No…this is enough…not anymore. Help, help, help….you need help.”

“Tabitha, shush. Tabitha, listen, the bail — it’s only a couple thousand dollars.”

“Asylum…you belong there.”

“You’ve done it before, Tabitha. Just get me out of here again. Please,” Fred whispered delicately, soothingly, in a lullaby tone. Monotone, old-school, what was I saying — thinking.

“Nope, nope, nope. Absolutely not. Fred, figure this out yourself. No. I can’t. Not again.” I dropped to the floor, the things I was going to give to him scattered around me.

The cold floor of the cell was comforting. It shocked me. Like lightning. No, like the cold waters of the ocean on an 85 degree day in Florida. Or the huge gusts of wind that slap your face as you hike the snowy mountains of Colorado. Or the huge gust of wind that slapped my face as I stepped out of the gym.

The huge gust of wind that slapped sense into me.

The cold tile that sent shivers up my spine.

My kneecaps begged to stand up from the snow in Colorado…no…the snow in the cell.

There’s no snow.

“I’ve got to go, Fred.”

“Wish me luck, Tabitha. I’ll come back to you someday! Please visit, it’s only a few thousands.”

I stepped out the door, and a police officer escorted me out into the waiting room. The room was depressing. All white.

It was refreshing to step into the light, though. Amelia and my parents waited for me. I then remembered that I had left my things in the cell, but I decided to leave them there.

I guess it could have been a goodbye gift to Fred.

A goodbye gift to the past.

For the last time.