The unbearable noise of the doorbell had finally stopped. Sky was on the floor, lying on her side her cheek against the floor tiles, clutching the phone in her ice-cold fingers, focusing on Dad's voice that kept promising her he would soon be there, soon, any moment now—

The knife lay under the table where Sky had thrown it. It was still calling her name, she saw the dark waters of River Styx reflected on the shiny surface of the blade, but she kept gripping the phone, she kept clinging to it with all her might, the last lifeline that could save her miserable life.

It had taken all she had to throw the knife away and call Dad instead. It had felt like fighting a tidal wave, like climbing Mount Everest.

But the truth was she didn't want to die. She just wanted the pain to stop, and maybe - just maybe - there were other ways to do that than jumping into the River Styx.

The knife stared back at her from under the table and Sky glared at it with narrowing eyes as she wearily pushed herself a bit farther away from it.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

And then she heard Dad opening the front door and running inside, calling her name with a broken voice, and she started crying again, tears flooded her eyes, because she wasn't alone, she didn't have to do this, she wasn't going to die, not today.

"In here—" she managed, her voice nothing but a broken sob, but Dad heard her nevertheless, just like he always did.

Sky looked up and saw him there in the doorway, in his jeans and his sweater, and everything about him was safe and good and home. He fell to the floor on his knees and then his arms were around Sky's hurting body, pulling her into his lap.

"It's okay, I'm here, I'm here—" Dad cradled her in his arms. "It's gonna be okay, sweetie—"

Sky buried her face into his shirt and cried like a baby.

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A couple of hours later, Hawk was still sitting on the front steps, leaning his back on the wall next to the door. The battery of his phone had died a long time ago, saving him from Dad's constant attempts to reach him and from the idiotic texts the Cobras kept sending. He knew he should have left, that there was nothing here for him anymore, but every time he thought of getting up, he pushed that decision off for a couple of minutes more, and thus those minutes had turned into hours, the noon had turned into afternoon and here he still was, hoping against all hope.

Hearing the front door opening, Hawk startled and turned to look. His heart jumped against his ribs in the hope it was Sky, but—

Nicholas stood in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and looked down at Hawk. His blond hair was a mess, he looked disheveled and tired, but what really freaked Hawk out was the look on his angular face.

He looked at Hawk as if he didn't even know him.

"Is– is Sky okay?" Hawk stammered, barely getting the words out of his mouth.

"Yes," Nicholas replied with a sigh and took a seat next to Hawk. "No thanks to you, though."

His cruel words felt like a punch in the gut, but Hawk knew he deserved it. Hell, he deserved a lot worse after what he had done.

"What— what happened? Did she try to—?"

"I don't think Sky would appreciate me telling her private things to you, Eli. She tells me you broke up." Nicholas replied. He leaned his elbows to his knees, and he didn't look at Hawk. Even if they were sitting right next to each other it suddenly felt like there was an ocean between them.

You broke up.

Hearing that made the bile climb up Hawk's throat and he had to clench his jaw to keep it down. Sky had dumped him. Of course, he had known it already - she had ripped off the phoenix pendant and thrown it away - but still, to hear Nicholas say it out loud—

He let out a sharp, sob-like exhale, then another, and clenched his fists so that it hurt. He wasn't gonna cry, not here, not in front of Sky's Dad like a pathetic fucking pussy–

But it was so hard to keep the tears from falling. His shoulders were shaking with the effort and there was no way Nicholas didn't see it.

If he did, he didn't offer Hawk any comfort.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked instead. "You should've just gone home."

Hawk didn't answer. It took all he had to fight down the tears. His breathing came uneven, shaky and he didn't trust his voice enough to speak, so he just kept staring at his sneakers, leaning his elbows hopelessly to his knees.

"Sky told me, you know. About the science project. About your so-called friends. The names they were calling her—" Nicholas stopped mid-sentence to take a deep breath. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times before continuing. "You have no idea how badly you've hurt her."

"I know I fucked up."

"I should kick your ass for what you did."

"Then why don't you?" Hawk groaned, his voice breaking. "I know I deserve it."

Hell, it would be a relief. He wouldn't even fight back. He would let Nicholas punch him in the face until he was bleeding on the sidewalk and still it wouldn't be enough to pay for what he had done.

"Because I have a feeling you're already hurting enough."

Another silence followed. Hawk stared at his feet, at his black Nike sneakers on the gray stone. Everything was black and gray in his world now, in his heart. He knew the grass was green, the roses growing in front of Sky's house were breathtakingly pink, he knew that if he looked up, the sky would be clear and blue, the sun so splendid it would blind him. But he couldn't see any of that. The colors of the world had been bleached off and nothing remained but darkness.

"Can I see her?" he asked, his words soft and thin like shadows.

"She doesn't want to see you."

"Please—" his voice broke. "I know– I know it's over, but I just want to—"

He stopped mid-sentence. He didn't know what he wanted to say, to do. No amount of apologies would fix what he had done, his declarations of love would only hurt Sky more.

Nicolas rubbed his forehead and let out another sigh, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and Hawk turned to look at him. Nicholas didn't look back, he kept staring at the houses on the other side of the street, the trees, the cars - anything not to look at Hawk. His side profile was sharp, the glasses rested on his long nose. His throat bobbed visibly when he swallowed, and the silence lingered on between them as if he was looking for the right words.

"Do you remember the talk we had that night when you first started dating Sky?" Nicholas finally asked, his words slow and silent almost as if he was talking to himself.

Hawk gave a shaky nod. "Yeah. You gave me a drive home."

"I told you that if you were going to hurt her or treat her badly, then you should just walk away. That I couldn't bear to watch her get hurt again."

Hawk's chest was collapsing under the weight of his guilt. He could barely breathe. He wished Nicholas would just hit him because that pain would be sharp and quick and clean - instead of this pain that was tainted and dirty and heavy, and yet he could do nothing but just sit and feel it through.

It would kill him. It would kill every last good thing in his soul.

"For what's it worth–" he rasped. "I am sorry."

"Talk is cheap, Eli," Nicholas said and stood up. He moved like an old man, stiff and slow. "You need to leave now. You're not welcome in this house anymore."

Nicholas' words ran through Hawk's heart like a spear. He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream, he wanted to fight this, this loss that was ripping his heart out of his chest. Slowly he stood up, fighting the gravity that wanted to pull him six feet under. He didn't even look at Nicholas when he dragged his feet down the front steps and managed the short walk to his bike.

He knew he should be happy that Sky was alive, that she was okay - as okay as she could be under the circumstances - but he couldn't find even a little bit of happiness in him. He had lost her. And with her, he had lost everything.

The drive home wasn't long, but it felt like a lifetime. It was as if the Earth had stopped spinning under his feet, as if the laws of physics didn't apply anymore. Every second without Sky lasted a million years, he had lived a thousand lifetimes by the time he opened the door of their garage and pushed his bike inside.

Dad was waiting for him in the kitchen, sitting at the table cradling a glass of scotch in his hands.

The same table where Sky had sat on, only last week, that day when Hawk had kissed her, and she had wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him near. With a jolt Hawk remembered the taste of her mouth, her scent of vanilla and roses, the smoothness of her skin, the rapid beat of her heart under his lips when he kissed her craning neck, the valley between her breasts.

He welcomed that memory, welcomed the pain it brought now that he knew it would never happen again.

"Where have you been?" Dad snarled and stood up.

"None of your business."

"Don't you start that, boy–" Dad's voice was rough. He walked closer until he was standing right in front of Hawk, so close he could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You undeserving brat, you—"

Dad didn't drink often, but when he did, it brought out all that was bad in him. If Mom was here, she would tell Hawk to just step back, to just apologize and walk into his room, to walk away from this conflict—

But Mom wasn't here. And the roaring in Hawk's chest was driving him mad, so he didn't step back, he didn't let it go, he just stood there and stared Dad down even if Dad was in fact a little taller than he was.

"I got into a fight at school," he breathed to Dad's face. "And I got suspended. So fucking what?"

Dad's fist connected with Hawk's cheek so fast that he didn't even see it coming. One moment he was there oozing his anger at Dad's face, and the next he was on the floor on one knee, spitting blood onto the floor tiles.

The pain shot like lightning through his head. The taste of blood was sharp and strong, all iron and salt on his lips as he slowly stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

It wasn't the first time Dad hit him. But it was the first time Hawk hit back.

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