I falter when I walk into the kitchen and see my dad sitting at the table, mug in hand. There is no newspaper between his fingers however and the unusual sight makes me frown. He looks up and places his cup gently down on the table. His fingers link together over the slab of wood and I continue on, opening the fridge and taking out the orange juice. I pour myself a glass and keep my back towards my dad.

"Is Ethan okay?" he asks.

I turn and take a sip of the bitter juice. "He'll be fine."

My dad nods and then takes in what I'm wearing. "Going out?"

"It's Saturday," I say. "That's the normal thing to do."

"With who?"

I narrow my eyes. "Just a friend. Does it matter?"

"Of course it..." My dad sighs. "Look, Tyler, just be safe."

"Why wouldn't I be safe?"

"Because you never think twice before you do something, and you know it. You go for something without even bothering to understand the consequences."

"I'm just going out for the day!" I scoff. "What's so bad about that?"

My dad just gives me a look. But there's something to his look that makes everything worse. It's as if the answer is obvious and I'm supposed to know with just one glance in his eyes. My dad eventually sighs again and I realize that he does that a lot now.

"I'm not an idiot, Tyler," he says quietly. "If you don't get yourself out of this then I'm getting the police involved."

They're already involved. I refrain from saying that out loud. Instead, I down the rest of my juice and slam the cup on the counter.

"Don't worry," I say. "I always get myself out of things like this."

My dad's eyes follow me as I walk out of the kitchen and continue when I slip on my shoes and slide a coat over my shoulders.

"Come home, Ty," he says. "Make sure you come home this time."

I tense up at his words. This time. Because last time was a mistake. Last time was supposed to be locked away in the past.

"I'm not going to do shit like that again," I say. "You know that."

"I thought you'd stopped fighting but apparently I don't know as much as I once thought," my dad says and I hear a chair scrape against the floor followed by heavy footsteps. "I know it was hard," he says, a few feet away from me, but I don't look up. "It's not easy finding out you're adopted. I know that. I know you won't run off again and not come back but I can't help worrying, Tyler. You did it once; you could do it again."

I finally blink and shove my hands in my pockets. "I'll be back late."

The door clicks shut behind me.

***

There's a continuous beeping beside Ethan's body. His chest rises and falls calmly and every part of him is hooked up to machines. There's a tube down his throat, a needle in his hand and bandages all over his body. I can't help but notice how similar he looks to Franny's dad.

Dead. They both look dead and the fact that they actually aren't just makes it worse.

I perch on the edge of Ethan's bed and place a hand over his forearm, the only skin available.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I got you into this mess. I fucked all this up and now I'm fucking everyone else up. I don't know what I'm meant to do, Ethan. I can't fight my way out of this and running won't do anything. Carl doesn't care anymore; he'll hurt whoever he can to get to me. But I can't continue to hurt people just to get to him. There's no way to break him down. There's nothing. This is just going to turn into a dead end."

Ethan doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't.

I close my eyes and rub the palms of my hands down my face. "No one can help me now. It's just me and Carl."

The beeping continues and I open my eyes, looking down at Ethan's unresponsive form. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. "For everything."

***

The bar is shut. On a Saturday night it should be loud and full of people. It makes me wonder how much power Carl really has over this place. I open the main doors and walk in, the dim room lit only by the light from the window. I don't bother to put any lights on and walk over to the door in the corner. It falls open effortlessly for me and the harsh lights from downstairs fall at my feet along with silence. Pure and complete silence.

I begin to sweat, my body becoming cold but my face hot.

I step through the doorway and let the door slowly close behind me. I walk down the stairs and turn to stare at the many eyes looking back at me. The room is full, and everyone is silent. I slip my hands out of my pockets and step off the last stair. Their eyes never leave me as I walk through the crowd, reaching the middle of the room where a small circular space has been opened up.

Carl is standing at the edge of the circle across from me, arms crossed over his chest.

"What is this?" I ask. "Why do you want me to have a fight? Aren't there more civilized ways of telling me than beating up my friend?"

"You know I'm one for dramatics." Carl smiles. "But every drama has to have its end. You're causing me grief, Tyler. You're starting to get in the way."

"And you thought a fight would fix that?" I spit out.

"Of course not," Carl laughs. "I didn't bring you here for a fight, per se. More of a . . . demonstration."

My brows furrow in confusion. "What kind of demonstration?"

Carl's smile never wavers. "Just something to show you all what happens when you go behind my back."

Carl moves his hand into his coat pocket, quickly pulls out a handgun, and aims it at the man beside him. He pulls the trigger and I recoil in shock along with all the other men. The man's scream pierces through the quiet room. I look down to see Carl's bullet lodged in his leg.

The man drops to the ground but Carl grabs him by his collar and yanks him to his knees.

"This man is called David, though half of you never knew that. He's been a fighter here for five long, happy years. I thought he was someone I could trust until yesterday I found out that he took two grand from me a few weeks ago and blamed it on poor, old Tyler here. I later found out that he's booked a ticket to fucking Canada and he's planning to leg it over the border and forget I even exist."

Carl makes a tutting noise and shoves David down onto the floor. The latter groans and cries out. Blood seeps out onto the floor, dripping from the wound on his leg.

"Many of you know that little Bullet here has recently broken into my office and taken all of your files. So lots of you think that you can run off and live freely and happily. And you can. Go for it. Have a long and prosperous life with your wife and kids. There's nothing stopping you." Carl waves his gun around making half the men flinch away. "Oh wait, I forgot. This is in the way. If you even think about leaving, I'll track you down and put a bullet in your forehead before you can even pack a fucking bag. And then I'll put one in your wives' heads which leaves your kids alone and homeless."

Carl walks forward and slides his gun back into his coat pocket. He stops directly in front of me and his eyes glisten. "I own you. Every single one of you mutts." He looks down at my hands and it's only then that I notice my fingers are clenching into fists over and over again. "What's wrong, Bullet? Wanna hit me? Go on. I dare you."

Carl comes close to me and tilts his head to the side, exposing his cheek and pointing at it aggressively. "Hit me. Oh, come on. You want to, Tyler, don't you? It's eating away at you. You want to beat the fuck out of me, don't you?"

I take a deep breath and my hatred for him doubles.

As my fingers flex again, a hand lands on my shoulder from behind.

"Aw, what's this?" Carl coos. "Brotherly love?"

I don't look behind me but I know it's one of the fighters. We've never been close but in this moment, most of us realize that we no longer have a choice.

"Sorry," I mutter before giving in and swinging my fist forward, feeling a sickening pleasure from the impact I hear. Carl's head snaps to the side and that shouldn't make me feel as good as it does.

Carl's enraged face comes back into view and then his fist is hitting my own cheek, pushing me back against the men behind me, who catch my fall. I laugh, the sound choked from the thin line of blood dribbling out my mouth along with saliva. I taste a faint bit of blood as it fills my mouth, most likely from another screwed-up tooth.

Carl has blood dripping from his own mouth and I happily notice that it's more blood than me.

"I'll fucking kill you," I laugh hysterically, and the boys keep quick hold of my arms as I sway. "I swear to god, Carl...you're a dead man when I'm done with you."

"You think you can kill me, huh, Bullet?"

"Nah," I spit out blood onto the floor by his feet, "but I'll get you locked up. And then you can spend the rest of your sad life locked away in a cell being someone else's personal bitch—"

The boys push me back as Carl comes surging forward and their bodies keep him from me. I give him a grin, filled with bloody teeth.

"Watch your back, Carl," I say. "Because it's never been your fight, it's mine. And I'm seeing it through to the end."