by Abigail Cole
My heart is slamming a powerful beat in my chest as I finally roll up the driveway, I’ve dreamt of returning to. Rounding the central fountain, I pull up right outside the front door and leave the engine running for someone else to park the car properly. The richly dark exterior matching the wealth of crime happening within, yet nowhere has ever felt more like home to me. Taking the small key from my pocket, I slip it into the lock of my handcuff and release myself from a peacefully sleeping Meg. She’s curled up like a cat, her head laying on the armrest and eyelashes fanning her cheeks, blissfully unaware of the evil lurking nearby. Ignoring a strange tug in my chest, I hop out of the car as a couple of Ray’s men appear in the stone arched doorway.
Dressed all in black with guns slung across their bodies, the pair stride towards me in unison, one shoving past to take possession of the car and the other leaning into the passenger seat. Jolting awake as meaty arms enclose around her, Meg’s screams fill the quiet estate as she’s dragged out of the seat by her hair. I look around the open courtyards either side of the mansion curiously, wondering if anyone will notice her high-pitched shrieks. If there are any neighbours close by, I’m sure this isn’t a rare occurrence and they either know better than to interfere or are paid handsomely for the inconvenience.
Clawing at the arm holding her in place, her eyes find me, a plea in their sea of blue as if she thinks I might help. I scoff inwardly and follow as she’s hoisted over the guard’s shoulder and carried into the house. She scratches his bicep, bangs her fists on his back and even tries to bite him but if he felt any of it, he doesn’t slow or seem bothered. Despite my first thought being to run into the house and find Rachel, a nagging pull draws me after Meg, some stupid notion making me need to see that’s she’s delivered to the underground chamber safely. Passing through the hidden door behind the grand staircase and trotting down the stone steps, I tell myself I’m feeling arbitrarily protective since she’s been in my charge the last two days. Besides, if this meathead is anything like the rest of them, I need to make sure he remembers to lock the cell door.
Throwing her inside the third unit on the left, he slams the medieval door closed and pulls a wooden beam down. Producing a brass padlock from his pocket, he then winds the thick steel chain hanging on the wall around the beam and secures it in place with the lock, shoving the key into my hand as he leaves. The electric lanterns have been switched on, lighting a dim path down the long corridor. A shiver rolls through my spine with the plummeting temperature down here, and if that wasn’t enough to make me want to run back upstairs then the scent of desperation and death certainly is.
My eyes land on Meg as she assesses me closely, her hands coiled around the bars in the centre of the wooden door. I could close the grate, so she’s trapped in her worst fear, but I reckon she’s suffering enough right now. Anyone would think surely by now, she’d be crying and begging for mercy, but there’s no sign of panic or alarm in her face. Just a determination to see out this inevitable fate with a sense of dignity I have to respect. Without having a reason to stay any longer, I throw her one last smirk and move to leave the makeshift dungeon.
“I honestly thought, deep down, you were better than this,” her words carry to me as I reach the first step, halting in place to hear the rest of what she’s burning to say. “Only the weak turn cruel, blaming the world for their bad luck instead of having the strength to overcome the challenges they need to face. And if that means I’m in here and you’re out there, so be it.”
The vein in my forehead begins to pulse as I stomp up the rest of the steps, slamming the door behind me as if that will banish her words from my mind. I couldn’t give less of a shit what others think about me, so why does her opinion affect me so much? My mind is whirling as I turn into the living room and collide with an eager looking Rachel.
“Wyatt, there you are!” Her words turn into a squeal as I bend to hug her and lift her right off her feet. The raspberry and vanilla scent of her shower gel wraps around me at the same time her arms do, holding me tightly as she hangs suspended in the air. A tear slips from my eye which I hide in her hair, the fractures that have grown at an all-consuming rate slowly knitting back together. This is the kind of hug I need every day for the rest of my life, one filled with pure unadulterated love. Placing her down with a sniff, Rachel cups my cheek and looks at me worriedly.
“You look drawn, have you been sleeping okay? Eating properly?” Taking my hand, she pulls me towards the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Taking a moment to compose myself whilst she isn’t looking, I look through the patio doors to the tiny dots beginning to twinkle in a darkening sky, thanking them for finally providing me with a real parent. I don’t need matching genetics or a piece of paper to tell me Rachel is more of a mom to me than I’ve ever known.
Planting me down on a stool, Rachel busies herself making me some dinner and fills me in on every little thing I’ve missed since being away. From unwanted squirrel’s in the attic, building a nest and chewing through electrical wires, to Charlton defending some big-shot celebrity in court which was broadcasted on mostly every channel. I simply listen and watch, a smile fixed to my face as she moves around in cropped jeans and a simple t-shirt. Despite clearly having an excess of money, Rachel never dresses in fancy clothes or flaunts her worth. She’s humbly content being the perfect housewife and nothing more. No social hierarchy or faked humanity and it’s the most refreshing thing in the world.
“-business in Seattle so he will be away for a few days. I’ve told him he shouldn’t be travelling at his age, but you know what Ray’s like. He always has been on the bull-headed side.” Rachel swings her brown eyes over her shoulder to smile sadly at me. I’ve never seen her and Ray together and I can’t picture it to be honest, but surely there must be a reason she married someone twenty years older and it clearly wasn’t for his money. Finishing with a sprinkle of grated cheese, she turns and plants a steaming bowl of tomato and bacon pasta in front of me. The smell is divine, my mouth watering with the lack of decent food lately.
“Now, be honest with me. How are you doing?” Rachel props herself on the other side of the island, watching me eat as if it’s the most fascinating documentary she’s ever seen. I think about spinning her a lie or shrugging off her concern, but I won’t lie to her. Not when her undivided attention feels this good.
“I ache,” I confess on a sigh. “My soul aches. Every time I think I know how to overcome my pain; it only gets worse. Like a mountain that keeps growing with every step I take, the peak never in sight. Being happy shouldn’t be a struggle, but I can’t even remember what happiness is anymore.” I flinch as Rachel’s arms wind around my neck, having been too consumed by my thoughts to realise she had moved. Leaning into her chest, I let her reassuring whispers and gentle strokes ease my thoughts for now, knowing the second she steps back they will slam back into me tenfold. Thoughts of vengeance, death and the blue-eyed girl beneath my feet who is unknowingly now at the centre of it all.
Avery
“Oh, my poor boy! What have you done to him?” Axel’s mom has sauntered across the room to inspect the botched shave job we had just finished, reaching out to run her finger across a few missed long hairs. Garrett’s hand shoots across from the other side of the bed, snatching her wrist tightly in his grip.
“Don’t you dare touch him Sharon,” he hisses her name through his teeth. His hazel eyes are blazing with fury, his arm trembling from the firm hold that has the slender woman whimpering. After a tense second, which has even the doctor hovering in the doorway frozen with anticipation, Garrett releases her with a shove and moves to sit on the bed. Sliding his arm beneath Axel’s neck, Garrett tenderly pulls him close like a lion protecting his sleeping mate from outside threats.
With a roll of her eyes, Sharon turns around to face the rest of us and holds out her palms expectantly. Doctor Breeson jerks into action, rushing forward with a clipboard I hadn’t noticed he was holding, pulling the pen from his jacket pock
et and handing them both over. Her eyes roam over the words upon the paper, lips pursing before scrawling an elaborate signature with her manicured fingers. The glint of an outrageous diamond fixed to her skinny wedding finger catches Garretts attention; his eyes narrowed as he tracks the jewel back down her side.
“There,” she hands the clipboard back to the doctor, his forehead dripping with sweat making his black hair look even greasier. “I’ve already made the necessary arrangements.” He nods quickly, his eyes flicking back to Garrett before ducking out of the room like a bomb is about to detonate.
“What arrangements?” I ask when clearly no one else is going to speak. Dax’s muscles are bunched by the bathroom door, his locked jaw matching Huxley’s, who has edged around and slyly stepped in front of me. Sharon’s pale brown eyes light up further as she takes in Huxley, scanning his handsome features, broad frame and pausing over his crotch for a beat too long.
“Axel’s coming home with me.”
“Like fuck he is!” Garrett roars, gently placing down Axel’s head before leaping from the mattress to join the rest of us by the foot of the bed. “I refuse to let him out of my sight, especially around the likes of you. You’re not beyond pimping out his unconscious body for the right price.” His chest is heaving, fists clenched ready for a fight that Sharon doesn’t seem interested in having.
I clearly don’t know as many details of Axel’s past as everyone else in this room, but I know enough and the woman before me isn’t the monster I envisioned. Axel has her full lips and heart shaped face, although that’s where the similarities end. Her hair sits perfectly at the back of her slender jewel-covered neck, her breasts too perky to be natural in an expensive pantsuit. She easily could have been a model or boutique owner, but I suppose marrying into money was more her speed. Twisting her lips at Garrett’s comment and checking her watch, she looks to the ceiling as if her patience is being tested.
“Axel is still a minor and, by law, needs to return to my care whether I want him to or not. I have a lot on my plate at the moment, so by all means, tag along and play happy couples or whatever this is,” she waves her hand vaguely between the two of them, “He’s being transported within the hour, with or without you.” Her heels click loudly across the floor as she moves to leave, my mind whirling with questions, concern and an idea.
“We’re all coming with him.” She halts at my demanding tone, looking back over her shoulder, although she isn’t looking at me. A smirk pulls at her lips as she holds Huxley’s gaze and shrugs.
“I’m fine with a bit of extra eye candy hanging around,” she winks at him and leaves, her hips slinking with much more vigour than before. Well, that was disturbing. No one moves for a while, watching the empty space in the doorway as our minds reel.
I’m the first one to turn, finding Dax’s blue eyes fixed on me with a note of longing in them. For a split second, I could have easily run into his arms and allowed his spicy scent to wash away my worries. His gentle hands and soft lips to take control of my pain and wipe it from existence, but that’s the weakness in me breaking through. I don’t need a man to fix my problems for me and I definitely don’t want to depend on one to. That’s the slippery slope many fall prey to, losing the power to correct their own mistakes and lay the blame for their misgivings on others. At least if I try and fail, it’s on me. I need to be good enough, strong enough.
Focusing on Garrett instead, whose neck so taut it looks like it might snap itself at any moment, I close the space between us and take his fists in my hands. “Nothing will happen to him. You heard her, she’ll be preoccupied and it’s the last place Wyatt would think to look for any of us.” Some of the tension ebbs from his shoulders at my words, his concerned gaze flicking back to Axel. On a large sigh, he whispers his agreement and shifts back to the bedside, brushing his fingers along Axel’s jaw. Peacefully sleeping Axel, blissfully unaware that he’s about to return to the place of his nightmares.
∞∞∞
Watching through the Nissan’s windscreen, Axel’s bed is pushed into the back of the ominous black van in front. Garrett is also on the bed, his arm and leg hoisted over his lover, hissing at anyone who gets too close like a pissed-off cat. The two porters struggle to move the extra weight on the silver ramp, using their shoulders to stop it from rolling back down, I have to snort at the ridiculousness of it all. Finally managing to secure the bed in place, flip up the ramp and slam the back doors closed, one of the porters bangs on the side window for the driver to pull away with us right behind. Luckily, we were in the habit of keeping all our belongings in the trunk in case our motel rooms were ransacked while we were away, so no time was wasted on our end.
In the driver’s seat, Dax’s expression is focused as he follows the van through the busy streets, refusing to let any vehicles push their way in between us. Huxley and I are spread across the back seats, my legs lying across his since he is manspreading so much, it was this or huddle in the corner. Kicking my Converses off, I relax against the black leather in my yoga jumper that sits off one shoulder and push my hand into the open bag of Starburst sitting between us from the hospital vending machine. Picking one out, I unwrap the pink cube and lean over to pop into Huxley’s mouth, earning a brief confused glance from Dax in the rear-view mirror.
The dynamic between Huxley and I have changed massively since we left the safe house. I had worried this latest attack would send him spiralling back into the dark place he was only just managing to claw his way out of, but in fact the opposite has happened. He barely utters more than a few words, even to me in private but his actions speak volumes. The first night in the motel, I’d been about to turn in for the night, exhausted and defeated by the day, when Huxley had dropped to the floor in a one-handed push-up.
“What are you doing?!” I’d asked curiously and more than a little disturbed.
“I’m getting Meg back.” That one statement meant more to me than any profession of love ever could. No promising to try his best or pretending everything’s going to work out, just pure determination. In his silent observations, Huxley has realised I don’t need pretty words or reassurance, I need action. And even though when it comes to it, I won’t let anyone else suffer in this quest except me, the least I can do is to make sure Huxley continues on this path to a full recovery. Mentally and physically.
That night I’d jumped straight out of bed and begun running drills with him, rounds of squats, push ups and sit ups, some light sparring practice and even a midnight run around the city, Huxley’s comforting presence by my side the entire time. The burn of my muscles is a balm to my anxiety, the only productive way to soothe my helplessness. And if the grunts of exercise through our thin motel walls screw with Dax a little, I’m fine with that. Not to be a passive aggressive bitch, but the more his feelings for me dwindle the better because one day very soon, I’m going to risk everything to save my twin and I don’t care what happens to me in the process.
A motorbike pulls up beside us in a queue at the traffic lights, a woman’s figure in hot pink leathers and matching helmet leaning over a custom painted Kawasaki Ninja. My eyebrows rise and I openly gape at the black machine with fuchsia lightning bolts decals, the gritty sound of her exhaust filling my ears as she speeds away. My eyes track her, weaving through the vehicles with ease and a sense of freedom I could only long for. Slumping against the window, I watch the world blur by knowing I have no place in it, my self-esteem taking a mental battering. Soon enough, we’ve left the city behind and settled in for a long drive in the typical silence we’ve been sharing lately.
It’s times like this I wish I had my phone to scroll through all the photos of Meg and I. Camping trips, movies nights, college parties. Memories we probably won’t get a second chance to enjoy together, the future looking bleak for both of us. If I can somehow contact Ray Perelli and convince him to take me instead, let me pay the debt he feels he’s owed, then maybe for Meg it doesn’t have to be the end. Dax’s deep voice pulls me from m
y thoughts.
“Axel’s not gonna be happy if he wakes up in- “I kick the back of his seat hard, causing the car to swerve before he rights himself.
“When he wakes up,” I growl. “The surgery went well, he’s just.... taking his time to recover. Resting is the best thing he can do.” I meet the brief narrowed glance he throws back at me with a look of venom, refusing to consider his words.
“What I was going to say was – if he wakes up in his old house. Resting to Axel means being trapped in his past, replaying the same night over and over. Physically he’ll pull through, but I doubt he’ll be the same Axel knew when he comes around. Especially back there.” Oh, well that’s different. I slump back in the seat, already restless despite having barely made a dent in our long journey. This is the exact reason I was home schooled and kept everyone at arm’s length, I can’t handle losing those I care about. And losing the Axel I knew will leave a scar on my already damaged heart for sure.
“He’s got Garret,” I reply weakly. Dax scoffs and even Huxley glances to me with uncertainty. I’m praying Garrett pulls through on this, takes Axel’s offered heart and treasures it like the precious gift it is. They could heal each other in ways no one else can, their connection clear enough for anyone to see. Needing to escape my own head for a while, I lean through the centre of the car and turn the radio’s dial until a string of pop songs are blaring through the speakers. Losing myself to the music, I snuggle into Huxley’s side and feign sleep. His protective arm rounds my body, his fingers finding my hair to make repetitive strokes.