by Abigail Cole
“I’m not a coward. Every single one of the others would have done the exact same if they’d been on the stairs at that moment. Your safety is paramount.” Her face shifts, her lips an inch from mine and our breaths mingle. For a second, I think she’s going to press herself into me for a hug, but instead she shoves at my chest with more force that I expected.
“Not over Meg’s! You barricaded me in that room whilst she was stolen away, by Wyatt no less! She was right there, beyond the door you refused to open and now she’s gone, and I’ll never forgive you.” Her shoulder crashes into my arm as she barrels past, stomping towards the hospital without waiting. Huxley’s hand rests on my shoulder and I lunge for him, burying my face into his neck and catching him by surprise. This is why I need Axel to pull through, I need the comfort of his hugs, the reassurance of his lingering touches. Not many men are comfortable to be affectionate the way Axel can, but now I can’t live without it.
Huxley returns my hug, sighing deeply and dragging my sorry ass after the girl that has my emotions playing havoc. She’s already at the receptionist’s desk by the time we enter the hospital, the distinct smell of everything clinical and people on the brink of death filling the air. An escalator directly in front takes us to the second floor as Avery guides us through the maze of corridors. Every ceiling is lined with square polystyrene tiles, the brightness of the lights hurt my eyes until we arrive at a private ward.
Squirting hand sanitizer into our palms in turn, a nurse greets us by a set of heavy doors and escorts us to a room at the end of the hall. Garrett’s floppy brown hair has flicked forward into his tormented eyes, too focused on the unconscious man in the bed to realise we’ve entered the room. The atmosphere in here is different to the rest of the hospital, the air filled with a perfumed scent and plush cushions laying behind Axel’s shaved head. The nurses are unhurried, strolling behind trollies to do their rounds with leisurely strides.
“How is he?” Avery asks, moving to stand by Garrett’s armchair. He jolts violently, shooting to his feet with his hands fisted, clearly expecting an intrusion. Avery doesn’t budge, reaching up to stroke his cheek and push the hair back from his bruised face to reveal his softening hazel eyes. Garrett falls into her embrace, her legs nearly buckling beneath his weight, but I turn away, hating myself for the lick of jealously spreading through my chest.
Approaching Axel slowly, my lips tighten at the sight of multiple tubes leading into the crook of his arm. The heartbeat monitor beside the raised bed bleeps repeatedly, the pure strength of his heart sounding for everyone to hear. A pale blue blanket has been tucked tightly beneath his armpits, the top of his bare chest on show and littered with purple welts. He would look serene if it weren’t for the small pinch between his eyebrows, as if he’s trapped in a never-ending nightmare.
“He was in surgery first thing this morning, they brought him back about twenty minutes ago,” Garrett explains behind me. “He hasn’t come around from the anaesthetic yet.” I reach forward to smooth the crease from between his eyes with my thumb, causing a protective growl to rattle from Garrett but I do it anyway. Axel doesn’t belong to him alone, even if they share a more intimate bond. I don’t have any other family than the four people in this room now Wyatt has scratched himself off the list. Fucking Wyatt.
My thoughts turn dark, needing to see him be punished for what he’s done to Axel. There’s no coming back, no excuse good enough when I saw him pull the knife from our brother through the laptop screen. It was in that moment, when my heart was crumbling into blackened dust. that I no longer had the energy to fight Avery. I suddenly felt what she must have been feeling as I pinned her into the chair and began hating myself more than she will ever be able to.
The nurse re-enters the room, ignoring everyone as she pushes herself between me and her patient to check his vitals. Her brown hair is tied into a low bun, a small white hat placed on top of her head as if she stepped right out of the 1940’s. I move back to join the others, watching as she pulls down his blanket and reveals a blood soaked bandage covering Axel’s abdomen. Tutting to herself, she presses a red button on the wall and a buzzer sounds further down the hall in response.
Another nurse in the same white and blue button-down dress soon enters, pushing a silver trolley holding multiple tubs filled with items such as dressings, swabs and wipes. The room is beginning to feel crowded, all of us hovering over the nurse’s shoulders to get a peek at the angry stitched line below Axel’s belly button. Pulling Garrett towards the door, he resists, his eyes tracking every moment of Axel’s wound being cleaned and redressed.
“Come on Gare, let’s give the nurses some space. I saw a canteen downstairs; we can grab you some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” he grunts, and I fall still for a second. I could have bet my life I’d never hear him say those three words, but then again, I didn’t think he would openly accept Axel as his boyfriend either. So much has changed since we left Waversea to watch over Avery, and nothing will be the same when we return.
“He’s in safe hands,” I try to convince him, but Garrett’s arms bunch and lip peels back in a snarl.
“I’m not leaving him.”
“Look at me,” I bite out, his bloodshot hazel eyes narrowing as they swing to me. “He’s not going anywhere, and we have a lot to discuss,” I say darkly, my jaw clenched and nose flaring. With one last glance back, he gives me a swift nod and moves to leave. Patting Huxley on the back, he then leans in to kiss Avery on the cheek on the way past, begging her to look after Axel in his absence. She softly strokes a bump on his forehead I hadn’t noticed before, promising she won’t let anything happen to any of us ever again. I catch her blue eyes for a spilt second before she looks away, but the truth to her statement was there.
Leaving the ward, Garrett cuts in front of me and leads the way towards a set of elevators I hadn’t noticed before. A short woman gasps at the murderous look in Garrett’s eyes as the doors separating us open, pushing her son behind her as we enter the steel box.. I notice a smear of Axel’s blood poking out from the V necked t-shirt Garrett must have been given upon arriving at the hospital. He presses the button to the lower level impatiently while I shed my navy hoodie and shove it at him, straightening down my ruffled white t-shirt. The doors slide open a moment later, the general smell of old people washing over me once again. I seriously hate hospitals.
The canteen has a varied choice of stale sandwiches or lumpy yoghurt. I grab Garrett a BLT, order us a suspiciously murky coffee each and join him on a raised bench at the back with a row of tall stools. A wall of glass lines the bench, a small patch of green grass circling a water fountain and surrounded by the grey brick of wards on all other sides. Pushing his food away, Garrett leans on his chin on top of his fist.
“What are we going to do about him?” The him being clear. The one that backstabbed us all, the traitor who chose his side and left Axel for dead.
“We focus on Axel’s recovery and rescuing Meg first; Wyatt’s punishment will have to wait.” I say evenly, breathing deeply to control my emotions.
“How can you be so fucking calm?!” Garrett slams his fist on the surface, the loudness of his voice halting everyone’s movements around the canteen. A fork clashes loudly as its dropped, the silence hanging for a few seconds before people slowly return to their business, hushed whispers floating around behind us.
“I don’t do violence.” I lean over to speak directly into Garrett’s ear. “However, don’t be mistaken, I’m angry as shit. Wyatt’s dead to me and I take solace in the fact you, Axel, Huxley and even Avery will not rest until he’s got what he deserves. Bring a world of agony to his doorstep, rip away anything he still cares about and rain down hellfire until he begs for forgiveness. He will suffer, but I can’t lose myself to do it.” This allows a miniscule amount of tension to leave Garrett’s shoulders, his head nodding slowly. I can practically see the visions taking place behind his eyes, the way he’s going to make Wyatt suffer.
>
“I love him,” Garrett’s voice barely registers with my ears, a secret he could no longer hold inside but didn’t want anyone to hear. Snatching his sandwich, he hops down from the stool and walks away before I have the chance to ask him if he was talking about Wyatt or Axel, but either way his heart is in for a rough ride. Emotion is a weakness in Garrett’s mind, and loving someone gives them ammunition to hurt and abandon him. I’d like to think he knows by now I would always be here but considering the betrayal Wyatt has handed us, I can understand his unease.
None of us saw it coming. The switch in Wyatt was instantaneous since arriving home to care for Avery, the easy smile he always had at the ready wiped from existence. We were a team at college, and not just on the basketball court. A family unit who did everything together, it was us against the world. Maybe I should have tried harder when I saw Wyatt’s pain, realized how fast he was slipping away. The others will be out for his blood but not me, I’d rather blame myself for his shortcomings. He could walk straight up to me right now, clasp my shoulder and say, ‘hey sorry about that man, I don’t know what came over me,’ and I’d forgive him. Because that’s what family does and ultimately, everyone is redeemable, right?
Meg
Soft snores filter under the door into the tiny bathroom, Wyatt having finally fallen asleep. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he was up to thanks to the paper-thin walls and series of grunts he was making, but it’s good to know Wyatt isn’t too far gone to be tempted like any other red-blooded male. Watching him eat that pizza was pure torture, the smell alone enough to kill my resolve, but damn was it worth it. Now I know I can affect him so easily, it gives me something to work with that makes me invincible – power over him. The weirdest part was when he began whispering ‘goodnight’ and ‘see you tomorrow,’ and I seriously hope he wasn’t talking to his dick.
I twist to face the wall behind me, a set of four silver screws holding the shower railing I’m tied to firmly in place. I feel for any other poor sap that finds themselves trapped in a situation like this, through sex or force, because this place was built with the average sex fiend or serial killer in mind. But luckily for me, I’m always prepared.
So many things make sense now I know the truth, especially the way my mom made sure I was able to endure in any situation. I had thought she was being over-protective, always conscious of the troubled minds in the world through her therapy, but now it all makes sense. And secretly giving me the tools to survive has made me love her more. I’ve always taken for granted her constant presence, all the nights I went home in a bad mood and locked myself in my room, never allowing her to counsel me. Maybe if I’d been more open, she might have been too.
Stretching my back and rolling my neck, I limber up as much as possible in my tight confines of the shower cubicle. Well, cubicle might be a tad generous for the two-inch lip on the tiled floor and filthy once-white curtain against the opposite wall. Counting down from three in my mind, I high kick my leg up onto the wall so I’m doing a vertical split, silently cheering myself for my sporty outfit choice. Shifting my foot closer to my restrained hands, my fingers close over the laces of my sneaker and fully unthread them. Freeing the final cross, the tiny silver pick my mom insists I conceal in all my shoes becomes visible.
Grinning, I pull it free and drop the lace at the same time as my foot lands back onto the floor. Ordinary children may have attended camps or gone on vacations, but I spent more than a few summers learning survival hacks growing up. Mom insisted before I left for college, I could hold my breath underwater for an incredible length of time, build a fire from two pieces of flint, had the knowledge to reset bones or preform makeshift first aid, and the one I need now - how to pick locks. Pushing the tiny tool into the cuff’s lock, my tongue sticks out as I listen intently for the miniscule clicks to release the lock piece by piece. My arms burn from being raised, the near end to my suffering causing my body to cramp in anticipation. With a final firm wiggle, the right cuff unlocks, and I gasp as my arms fall to my sides too quickly.
I hold my wrists to my chest for a moment, rubbing the raised sores that will surely blister. Not wanting to waste a second, I quickly grab my discarded shoelace and stuff it into my waistband, leaving the other cuff in place as I hop up onto the toilet seat. The rectangular window with obscured glass might be a tight squeeze, but it’s the only option I have. Readying to pick the lock again, I’m surprised to find the handle lifts easily and hope that’s not my good luck wasted on something I could have sorted myself.
My foot slips on the toilet seat, my shin connecting with the tank which clangs against the wall. Stilling, my skin pricks with goose bumps as I listen for the snores that continue beyond the door, a relieved sigh leaving me. Pushing the window wide open, I heave myself up onto the ledge and begin to shuffle through. There’s a decent drop on the other side, nothing but a concrete pathway to break my fall. Bending my hands so they remain on the windowsill, I dangle myself further out until my hips make it through the tight gap. As slowly as my core can manage, I roll my body into a gradual flip before releasing the window and landing in a crouch on my feet.
Keeping my back to the building, adrenaline urges me onward until I approach the far corner. Peering round, my eyes land on the sedan. My only real chance to escape without leaving a way for Wyatt to follow. A group are huddled at the far end of the carpark, only their outlines and occasional flare up of multiple cigarettes visible under a cloud-heavy sky. Birdsong has already begun in most of the trees dotted randomly around the building, sunrise imminent.
Not having time to waste, I bend to pick up a chunky rock in my still cuffed hand before hiding it behind my back and casually strolling towards the car as if I’m not about to hot wire it. Fuck, my mom is the best. It’s a good thing I didn’t use all of the tricks she taught me to become a criminal mastermind. I haven’t even made it to the car when the group spin to regard me, my eyes falling on the man I begged to help me last night. Yeah, good job wank stain. At his instruction, the men around him begin to walk towards me with a look in their eyes that doesn’t scream concern. Sensing something isn’t right, I ditch my carjacking idea, dropping the rock and bolt in the opposite direction.
Their heavy footfalls sound behind me instantly, my heart skipping a beat in panic. But then I remember, I’m the fastest on my lacrosse team and not pumping my body with drugs like the oxygen wasters chasing me, so I speed down the road with only one sneaker tied on properly. Darting down a back alley, I hoist myself onto a dumpster and use it to gain an advantage on the mesh fence behind, quickly climbing over and dropping down on the other side. Yells and shouts reach my ears, making me smile as I keep sprinting, needing another vehicle to ‘borrow’.
Finding myself back on the town’s main road, rows of shops lining each side, I curse and turn back towards masses of residential homes. Diverting from the streets, I take to hopping across back yards, vaulting over low metal fences. My eyes land on a plastic playhouse, the thought to hide out until the coast is clear crossing my mind. But I don’t know this town or its people and maybe the community will help to flush out the outcast in their midst, a full scale manhunt. No, my best bet is to get as far from people as I can before finding somewhere to hide.
Jumping over the last fence, I end up back on the street as the sun crests over the horizon. A figure at the other end steps into the road the same time I do, letting out a battle cry that sounds more like a demented chicken as I ignore the stitch in my side to run once more. Damn, when did I become so unfit? The god-awful sound of moped engines rattle through the air seconds before a mass of them swerve around the corner I’m headed towards. Skidding to a stop, my shoe chooses right now to slip from my foot as I turn back and hobble down the road pointlessly. The mopeds are on me in seconds, forming a circle to trap me in a cage of metal shitcans. I glare from one asshole to the next, widening my stance and refusing to go down without a fight.
A weight collides with the back of me, not
even facing me properly. Coward. I hit the floor just before more and more bodies pile on top, pinning me beneath their rancid body odours. My arms are forced behind my back, too many pairs of hands hauling me up and roaming my body. I squirm and kick as I’m forced over the back end of a black leather seat, some bastard actually sitting on me and reeving up his engine. Vibrations shudder through me as I’m driven back to the main street, the blurred lines beneath my face making me feel queasy. I kick and scream, not that it helps.
Less than five minutes later, I’m facing the brass number seven on the motel door with dozens of grubby hands roaming my body. There’s a pause while the pussies surrounding me try to decide who should knock on the door, so I kick the toe of my sneaker against it, ready to face my own inevitable fate. Wyatt appears a second later, his hair wild as if he’s been grabbing it. I can’t help but smirk, seeing his unnerved expression making getting caught worth it. Almost.
“Err…A-are you that rich guy who needs to keep his sister in line?” A pathetic voice speaks up beside me, its owner as frail looking like the tone suggests.
“Story of my life,” Wyatt mumbles loud enough for me to hear, reaching out to yank me into the room harshly. Crossing over to his bag, he shoves me down onto the bed and grabs a thick roll of cash from the central pocket. Returning to the doorway, Wyatt raises his hand above his head to throw the money far into the distance. The squad scramble to race in that direction, shoving and elbowing like a pack of hyenas scrounging over a scrap of meat. Wyatt slams the door closed, his emerald green eyes blazing with fury.