Chapter 25

The shadows on Mickey's face stretched and retracted from the strobing red and blue from the police car sitting in her driveway. The muffled voices of her mother speaking with an officer came from somewhere to her left inside the house. They said it was safe to go back in, they didn't find the culprits, but Mickey didn't care. She didn't want to go back in. Couldn't go back in.

So, she sat outside on the stairs, a cop's jacket draped around her shoulders. It wasn't cold, Austin barely dropped below 70 at night, but she couldn't stop trembling.

She flipped her phone in her fingers, waiting for a text back from her dad. She tried calling and, when that didn't work, she sent a text. She knew he wouldn't read it any time soon, but she tried anyway. Her father didn't answer the phone when he was away on a trip let alone respond to a text message. Driving eighteen wheelers like that, he had to keep his eyes on the road. She understood but thought that maybe, in this instance, he would make an exception.

Mickey sighed. She wished her father didn't have to leave. Maybe if he was around this wouldn't have happened. She and her mom wouldn't have walked into their home thinking everything was fine when it wasn't. She wouldn't have walked into her room only to find it destroyed.

Her bed, sheets, pillows, all upended. The shades lay on the floor with rips and tears and holes pierced into them. Her shelves that were once full of dancing trophies hung by one crooked shelf bracket, the trophies and plaques lay strewn on the floor, bent, stomped on, damaged. Her bookshelf had toppled over, spilling her snowglobes and framed pictures and books scattering on the once plush carpet, damp due to escaping liquid. The posters on the wall—Joan Jett and Pat Benatar and Paramore and Bon Jovi and Britney Spears—had all been slashed and ripped and appeared to have been burnt in the corners. The eyes had been stabbed out and black spray paint splashed overtop of it.

Her desk drawers were left hanging at the edge, papers and other miscellaneous objects having been taken out and tossed around the room. But, despite all the mess, she noticed that her laptop, her tv, her phone, her ipod, all the expensive stuff in her room had been left alone. Untouched. They sat in the same places. If that wasn't what the intruders were after, then what was? And why was her room the target?

"Don't worry, Mickayla, we can replace everything." Her mother's words were followed by a light touch to the top of her head. Her mother's ring briefly caught in her hair before sliding out. From the corner of her eye Mickey spotted her mother's red pumps.

"I don't care about that stuff," Mickey replied. Her mouth twisted to the side and she spoke her words to the dark driveway. "Did the police say how they got in?"

"They say maybe a door was unlocked or we left something open. There was no sign of forced entry."

A strange, sparking sensation trickled down her spine. She brushed her hand against her nose and looked up only for her eyebrows to crinkle at the way her mother looked down at her. Her red covered mouth puckered in that way she'd seen plenty of times; when something displeased her. Almost as if she were sucking on a lemon. "What?" Mickey asked, dread pushing her shoulders up to her ears.

"Did you tell anyone we were leaving for the afternoon?"

"No. I mean, just Alexis. I invited her to come to the mall, remember? But she already had plans with her other friends."

"No one else? There's no one else you could have told?"

Mickey's nose wrinkled. What was her mother trying to say? She only spoke to two people. One that didn't even seem to like her half the time and the other was Alan. And Alan wouldn't do this to her. …Right?

Her heart pounded and she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. Her dry tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, she peeled it away with a little difficulty. She shook her head, ridding herself of an invading, prickly thought, replacing it with her own sticky refusal.

"No, I…I didn't. I didn't say anything to anyone else..."

No, no. it couldn't be him. It can't be him.

But the dots blared at her like neon signs.

News of robberies in surrounding neighborhoods had increased in the past couple of weeks. Alexis had even pulled up a map that the news reporters attached to their late-night reports. Hits that appeared random…maybe they weren't so random after all?

The thefts started with breaking into cars. Not even the fancier cars that were right there for the taking. Maybe the alarms on those were more sensitive than the older cars? Or maybe that was the point. No one would pay attention to the older cars that were being broken into. It was almost sitting there for the taking. People would turn a blind eye to that.

It could only make the escalation to breaking into garages that much easier, wouldn't it? Mickey chewed on her lower lip as the gears in her brain turned faster. And then the garages a steppingstone into the rest of the house. And the other rooms.

Not just one.

The police found signs of forced entry in the other homes. But not hers. Not unless someone knew how to get in. Knew how to hide their tracks. Knew where everything was.

She popped off the stairs and rushed back into the house, ignoring her mother's calls behind her. Her boots clomped on the stairs and, for a second, she cringed at breaking the no running in the house rule, but she pushed that aside as she burst back into her room. Her trashed, roughed up, broken room.

Chest heaving with ragged breaths, Mickey slid open the door to her closet with a loud bang.

The mountain of clothes and shoes in the middle of the walk-in didn't impede her as she lunged for the boxes stacked in the back corner. The cascade of cardboard clamored behind her when she bashed a few of them aside and went for the second from the bottom. She knelt; the lid was barely in her hands when she tossed it over her head.

Through bleary, itching eyes she stared down at the dark velvet box. The empty, dark velvet box. A single slit poked through the cushioned center, a gaping mouth staring back at her. Beneath her swirling gaze it twisted upwards, shifting from a snarl to a sinister smile. Laughing at her. Of course.

Of fucking course.

She forced out a bitter laugh and pushed her hair out of her face, rocking back onto her heels. Brushing the back of her hand against her nose, she let her feet carry her back downstairs, where everything else still sat in place. Like nothing had been touched. Like her room had been transformed into her now smashed snow globes.

A jolt passed through her when she made it out onto the front step and saw him. Standing there. Talking to her mother like nothing in the world was wrong. And she stood and stared through burning eyes as Alan's gaze shifted from her mother's face over to hers and visibly let out a large sigh of relief before rushing past her.

The jolt hit again, harder, a heavy blow in the stomach while she watched as he rushed up the stairs to her. She flinched beneath his tender touch, beneath his hands that cupped her cheeks and brushed away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.

"Shit, Dis, are you okay? I saw the cops and… Did something happen? Are you hurt?" His hands dropped form her cheeks to her shoulders and she stated, searching his face. Taking in the concern floating in his whiskey eyes. "Disney, hey, talk to me." A fire ignited in Mickey's stomach.

The burn matched the sting to her palm. The loud slap pierced though the blackness surrounding them, and Alan took a step back, holding his reddened cheek.

"Don't you dare," she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Don't you fucking dare try and talk to me like you don't know what happened, Alan Carson."

"Wha—?"

"We were robbed! But you already know that! So tell me. Where is it? Huh? Where's my ring?"

"Your ring?" He blinked, his eyebrows furrowed, and he dropped his hand. His jaw squared and she spotted a muscle twitching by his neck. "You think I did this?"

"Don't play innocent! Yer the only one…the only one who knew!" She hastily wiped at her eyes and forced her breath and her words to remain steady despite the whirlwind of emotions bearing down inside her. "Yer the only one who knew where it was. Don't lie!" Her accent crept back in, one she worked so hard to keep at bay with the lessons and tutoring sessions her mother pushed on her since junior high. But she didn't care. The fire within her raged and she wanted to burn everything down.

Alan rubbed his hands through his hair, growling. "I didn't do this!"

"I said don't lie!"

"I wouldn't steal from you! I told you that! You know that! I aint lyin'!"

Mickey scoffed. "Oh, just like ya didn' lie to me when you said you stopped skippin; school? Or when ya said you weren' drinkin' anymore? Or when ya said you weren' smokin' pot anymore?" She counted off her fingers as she spoke. "Or when you said—to my face—that you're still going to those art classes I've been paying for?"

"I am!"

"No you're not!" The shout burst from her throat; a gunshot crackling in the still, night. "I know y'haven't been goin'! I followed you. The instructor said y'haven't been there in weeks. Weeks, Alan! And yet you lied to my face and told me you were still going!" The words barely formed in her mouth when they were spit at him; just managing to escape her teeth and the bite added to them.

A flash of emotions flitted across Alan's face; she watched them all in quick succession: confusion, denial, acceptance, guilt and exasperation. "Well, fuck, Mickey, should I wear a tracking device to make it easier for you?"

"That is not the point and you know it!"

"Clearly you don't care about the point because I already told you I didn't do this. Okay? I didn't do this to you! I didn't steal from you!"

"Why should I believe you? You lie about everything."

"Not about this!"

"Because you're so convincing."

He carded his fingers through his hair and grumbled beneath his breath. His tongue darted out, running along his lower lip and when he spoke, his once steady voice wavered just slightly, and he turned his pleading eyes to her. "Just…just listen to me. Okay? I'm telling you; I didn't take anything from you." You have to believe me his eyes said.

"But you have no problem taking it from everyone else?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times before slamming shut, clenching. A muscle by his jaw twitched. His nostrils flared and an audible breath pushed out of his nose. She lifted her chin. Their stares held, blue meeting brown.

"You don't understand," he whispered.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Maybe that's the thing. I don't think I ever will." She lifted and dropped her shoulders in a weary shrug. "And I don't think that I ever have."

"Mickey, just let me explain."

"No." Mickey shook her head. Her mouth twisted to the side and. "I'm…I'm done. Okay? I'm just done. I'm tired of the lies and the excuses and the explanations."

Alan's mouth twisted to the side as the seconds of silence stretched between them. She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, waiting. For a barrage of barbed words lobbed at her, for him to get in her face, to denounce her. Her breath held, lodged in her chest, and her muscles tensed and, still, she waited. Well? she almost prompted him. Wasn't he going to say anything? Put his foot down? Fight back? Fight at all?

She uttered a sigh, rolling her eyes. "Forget it," she muttered. "Just…go. Leave me alone. I don't…" Her mind rapidly filled in the blank: want to talk to you, want to be around you, want anything to do with you, need you. "…Go away."

With every step Alan took until he melted in with the surrounding darkness, a sound bounced around in Mickey's head. Starting off as a low pop, it graduated to a series of loud bangs and snaps until she closed her eyes and honed in on the punch of her heart breaking.

Somewhere underneath the cacophony her mothers' words slipped in, that it was for the best, that she was better off without Alan, that everything would be okay. Mickey quelled the urge to laugh, ducking beneath her mother's outstretched arm.

Whatever was taken could be replaced, she said. But that didn't matter. It was just a dumb ring; a token given to soothe over a particularly bad disagreement between the two women weeks ago. Business as usual.

She couldn't replace her trust in him. She'd reached the end of that cycle; walking the same path, treading the same groove into the ground over and over again wasn't her idea of fun. Her feet hurt. But even so they itched to chase after him, to hear him out, to apologize. She strained her muscles, staying in place.

Maybe, this once, her mother was right. Maybe this was for the best. As much as she worried that she hurt his feelings, she wiped the defeated look on his face from her mind. She didn't care. Couldn't care.

Not about his feelings. And not about him.

Not anymore.

A/N - I know, I know, I come back after a few months and the chapter you get is a flashback with Mickey's and Squid's relationship falling apart. It had to be done! I've been working on this for months, trying to get to a satisfying ending. I always knew the moment that put the nail in the coffin of their relationship but I guess subconciously I didn't want to put it into words. Hey, it could've been worse; I could've posted this on Valentine's Day like I was originally going to. Anyway! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for the reviews and being patient with me! Back to current timeline for the next one and shit just gets crazy from there! Also please excuse any typos.

Review Replies

LittleBlueSweater: Yes, fiiiiinally Eagle has shed his skin and showed himself as the snake he truly is! And eagles eat mice so...perfect name for a perfect snake! Ding ding ding, Brett DOES have a lot of connections. This will definitely become an important fact as the story shifts towards winding down. This, for sure, is not the last time you hear about or from him.

brighterthanthesky: I like the idea of Zig and Mouse too and I'll say that it's nooooot too far fetched. For this story, sure, but for the sequel...? Who knows! ;) Ah! I'm so glad I was able to keep you on your toes! Thanks for the review!

lotttieifif: He totally is! But eagles eat mice so, his m.o. was right in our faces all along! I did give most of the background boys their nicknames for a reason :)

Guest 1: Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying this!

Guest 2: Oh thank you so much! That's so nice of you to say! You have me flailing!

Guest 3 (aka Zigerss): I'm glad you mentioned that you had messaged me on Wattpad or else I wouldn't have checked. Thanks so much for your review! I greatly enjoy our conversations and picking Squid apart. I look forward to your messages all the time! (Also excuse my responses being slow sometimes; life slows me down.)

Guest 4: Thank you so much!

musiclvr246: Thanks so much! I appreciate it!

Shawny: I was waiting to see what your reaction would be and your didn't disappoint! I read your review about a billion times with this goofy smile on my face just because I ended up surprising you so much. I live for those reactions, lol. And thanks for your comment on Squid's and Mickey's relationship, I always knew how they were to start off and then end up but getting there I was nervous that maybe I was downplaying or maybe even bringing attention away from their issues at hand but to know that it's been heading in a good direction makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Last thing I want is to offend anyone as I try to navigate their issues and lives and outlook in a way that's (what I hope is) realistic. See, now you're just adding to my problem, lol. I love 'em so much no matter which way I go with them but I'm still trying to figure out where to pull the trigger. But, regardless, at this point their stories intersect from here on out so they'll spend more time with each other. Thanks again!