Free Trouble by Nadene Seiters

thought pleasuring her last night would be good enough for me, but I have goose bumps rising up on my flesh and my heart is in my throat right now.
    “Caleb!” Carl calls from the doorway with his eyebrows pinched together. I get off the bike; pull off my jacket, and bound up the steps.
    “What’d I do now?” I ask in an irritated tone, my eyes narrowed.
    “Nothing, kid. Just thought you might have died on the bike or something.” He slaps me on the back, and I feel the blood drain out of my face. Daisy looks at me with wide eyes and starts around the counter, her lips downturned.
    “Caleb?” She asks. It’s not until she’s in front of me, pulling my fists away from my middle that I realize I’m shaking.
    “Jesus, I’m sorry, son.” Carl keeps a hand on my shoulder , and I shrug it off. I back away from Daisy and feel bile rising up in my throat.
    “It’s alright, gotta get over it sometime.” I whisper, stomping to the back. They let me go, and for that I’m grateful. How could I ever think I deserved to be able to kiss a girl like Daisy? I shouldn’t be riding with her on the back of my bike. I’m a murderer, killed my best friend. She’d be better off with Big Man.
    That day I don’t get much done at the shop. I manage not to screw up a tattoo for Marie and take a few walk-ins instead of letting Carl do them. I need to build my profile , and I need to do something with my hands so that they stop shaking. By the time the shop is closing down for the day, I think I might go home and break my dresser all over again. I still need to order new furniture.
    I can’t seem to figure out what to do with my hands, and Carl looks at me with a worried expression as I storm from the back, all the way out to my bike. Daisy follows after me, saying goodbye to Carl, and climbs on the bike after me. I feel her hands on my middle and relax into the touch, trying to loosen my grip on the handlebars.
    The ride home is too fast, but I’m feeling reckless. I could really use a drink, but there isn’t anywhere here that I didn’t hang out with Ronnie. I don’t want to see the apologies on people’s faces, or worse, hear them from their lips. The bike comes to a stop rapidly in the parking space allotted for me, and I hop off it before Daisy does. She scrambles to get off the bike and follows close behind me into the apartment.
    I’m about to break something again, my nostrils flaring and my stomach bunching into knots. I want to cry again, but I can’t. I can’t embarrass myself in front of Daisy again , and I can’t lose control in front of her. All that goes out the window when she puts a hand on my back, hesitantly, and says my name.
    “Caleb,” she whispers, and I know what she’s about to say next. She wants me to talk about it, and I can’t. I can’t let the words out , or they’ll be real. So I turn around and grab both her wrists. I slam her up against the door and stare into her doe-like, brown eyes. She squeals at my fingers tightening around her wrists and flails her legs against my thigh. I want her to be afraid; I want her to run from me because I’m a killer .
    “Caleb!” She shouts at me, and I let one of her hands go so that she can stand on the floor again. She doesn’t say that I’m hurting her, but I guess I know just how much I am when her hand comes up to hit me across the face.
    The noise that her hand makes against my face sounds almost as awful as it feels. I growl low in my chest and taste blood in my mouth. There’s going to be a mark there tomorrow.
    “I’m sorry!” She tells me, pleading with me. I plaster my hand against hers on the door and lean my forehead on the wood overtop of her head. My chest heaves as I try to breathe and think. I need to think.
    “No, I’m sorry,” I tell her roughly, finally letting my hand slide down until it’s on my side. The only thing holding me up is my forehead against the door. I feel her shaking hands reach down to unbutton my