by B C Morgan
“What happened?” I ask as I sit down beside him and he uses his hand to mime a pen, I grab one from the table in his room and a piece of paper and he writes ‘Poison.’
“No, that can’t be right,” I state dumbly, and he writes something else before the pen slips from his hand and his eyes roll back.
He starts convulsing and the machines attached to him are going crazy. Nurses and doctors rush in and I’m forced to leave the room, but not before I grab the piece of paper and return to the waiting room.
Run, keys, pocket. That’s what he wrote as well as ‘not Dante’ not a great help, but if he wants me to run then I will. I just don’t know what I’m running from anymore.
“Will he live?”
My head shoots up as I take in a nineteen-year-old who looks haggard and drawn, his skin is pale and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks how my mum does when she’s coming down from a bender.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, a sense of dread twisting my stomach up until I feel like I’m going to puke all over the waiting room floor.
“Will he live? I get more if he dies,” that’s all he says as he stands up and wanders out of the room.
I rush out of my seat and watch as he walks out of the ICU and ducks around the corner, I don’t know why I’m chasing him but if he did something to Sawyer then I need to know what. The why isn’t important, if I know what he used then the doctors may have more of a chance of helping him, but luck is not on my side. I slam into the wall as I take the corner too fast and his eyes meet mine as he enters the lift and presses for the doors to close. I push harder, trying to get there before they close and then I see who’s with him. I’ve never seen this girl before, but her eyes are as lifeless as Dante’s and her mouth is pulled into the most insidious smile I have ever seen. She brings her thumb to her throat and slides it across slowly, as the junkie slides down the wall of the lift and looks up and her like she’s his saving grace. She’s too much like Dante for it to be a coincidence, which means even if Sawyer wasn’t a threat she sure as hell is!
I WALK BACK into the hotel room and I feel nothing, I’m numb and tired, so, so tired. How much more of this can I take? It’s only been ten days and we’ve been through so much already. The human condition can only handle so much right, so where is my breaking point because I think I’m dangerously close to it and I don’t know how I will or if I could recover.
My eyes meet Harrison’s and I’ve seen him angry, but this is new, scary even. It just doesn’t scare me, I know he wouldn’t hurt me so there’s nothing to fear, other than him turning his back on me.
“Where have you been?” He shouts, his face thunderous and I wasn't wrong about my breaking point as under different circumstances this wouldn’t make me cry but I’m already sobbing like a child and he looks terrified.
“What happened?” His voice has softened, and it only makes my tears fall harder and my sobs grow louder and stronger until I’m on the floor curled up in a ball.
I feel his hand run down my back as he tries to uncurl me, but my arms are curled around my knees and I refuse to yield. He scoops me up in his arms and I turn my face into his chest, letting his warmth seep into me. I want it to chase away the bone chilling fear that’s setting in, but maybe that isn’t possible until this is all over.
He carries me over to the bed but instead of laying me on it, he sits himself down and spreads his legs out, keeping me curled up on his lap. I think I can feel his lips on my forehead, but I can’t think about that right now. I don’t want to think about anything at all.
“I’m still mad at you,” he whispers against my ear and his breath sends tingles shooting through me, but it barely registers.
I sit here curled up in him, my head pressing against his chest, hearing his heart beating strongly. It’s reassuring and it's helping, I just don’t like the fact that Harrison is the one helping to make me feel better. Is it wrong? Should I feel guilty about it? Should I even care? So many questions and no one to answer them.
“I need you to talk to me Henleigh,” I stiffen and his hand runs up and down my spine, before curling round the back of my neck and massaging gently. “When you’re ready, but tomorrow at the latest woman, I need to know. You can’t keep me in the dark and you can’t go off on your own.”
I nod my head in agreement and it must appease him, but he doesn’t stop massaging my neck and even a tension as strong as mine wouldn’t last against it. I start to relax a little more as he lays me on the bed, and he starts working on the knots I’m holding on my back. I have no idea why he’s doing this, but I don’t dare speak in case he stops. He keeps at it for thirty minutes before he pulls away and my body is like jelly.
“I’m going to run you a bath and then you can get some sleep, this is your only pass Henleigh. Come tomorrow you are filling me in, and you better not leave a single damn thing out,” I won’t argue with him, it just isn’t worth it.
He leaves the room and comes back in when the water turns off, he picks me back up before depositing me onto the toilet.
“I’ll make sure I don’t come in here until you’re out,” he says looking as awkward as anything.
“Thank you,” I whisper, as he looks at me with a half-smile before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
HE’S livid as I go over everything that transpired yesterday, not that I expected any less. He isn’t happy that I sneaked out, but the events seem to be distracting him enough to direct his anger at the others instead of me.
“Do you believe this Sawyer guy was being honest?” Seriously, that’s his first question? After everything I just told him. What is up with that?
“I think he was. I can’t say if he’s one of the good guys, but I don’t think he was working for Dante. I think he’s the reason Sawyer nearly died,” I reply glumly, hating that another life was put at risk because of some silly vendetta that I do not understand.
“What happened after the lift closed?” He asks, putting a cup of coffee before me and I can’t help but inhale its heavenly scent.
“I went back to the ICU and waited to be let back in, he was comatose, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. They need to figure out what he was given, I just hope they can work it out before it's too late. I checked his jacket pocket and it had a pair of car keys in it, and when I worked out where the car was, I brought it back here. We won’t even have to worry about license plates as the boot is full of them, I don’t know who he is, but he came prepared. We have to go again, I just don’t know where,” I say, feeling confused, conflicted and a heavy dose of morose.
“We could always go to my dad’s summer house, I think he’s in Italy right now so we should be safe there,” he says, but he sounds uneasy. I don’t think he wants to have anything to do with his old man, and I can’t blame him for that one.
“I’m not putting you through that, to be fair there is somewhere I need to go. I’ve been putting it off, but my dad is in the states and my mother is in rehab so it should be safe for a few days. I may be able to check up on a few things as well,” I’m pulling on my bottom lip as I get lost in my mind and I swear he’s watching the action transfixed, although he snaps out of it when he notices I’m looking at him.
“Where,” it comes out strangled, so he clears his throat before trying again, “where to?” I swear his voice sounds deeper now, but it’s a valid question and it deserves an answer.
“My house, I haven’t been there since the week I was released from Juvie. Fancy a trip back to where my life was changed for a second time?”
He swallows deeply as his eyes darken and I can see the war waging within him, the place where his hate for me was born and maybe he still holds it inside himself. A part of me wants to ask him how he feels about me now, but the timing is far from perfect.
“Nothing like a trip down memory lane,” he says thickly, and I don’t miss how his eyes look anywhere but at me.
EIGHT
WHAT I DID to R
ebecca is no longer a secret, but it doesn’t make it any easier to do this. Especially with her brother sitting in the seat beside me, his jaw locked tight and not uttering even a single word to me since we got back to town.
It’s not just being here that has me on edge but the risk of running into the guys who were with me that fateful night. I didn’t dob them in when it happened, I was driving so I was responsible, but I don’t know what I'll do if I come face to face with those arseholes.
I’m deliberately avoiding the road the incident occurred on, but I can see the tick in his jaw and how his eyes narrowed to slits as we drive close to it. Damn, maybe this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back here, it’s not like I’m even welcome here anymore.
Letting out a deep sigh as I pull up to my parents house, I try to prepare myself. It’s so dark and uninviting. Maybe it would be better to just turn around and find somewhere else, but Harrison is already vacating the car and I guess I better follow.
“Home sweet home hey,” he says gruffly, and I don't miss the slight bite to his tone. Maybe I don’t need to ask him how he feels about me, the animosity and hateful glares are painting a pretty clear picture.
I open the door and push it open, finding resistance from all the letters that have piled up. My dad only left a few weeks ago, how has it gotten this bad? I’m shaking my head as I pick them up and lay them on the sideboard. Not even thinking as I walk down the hallway and do not stop until I come to his office. It’s still locked and I’m not sure why this surprises me, he’s always been secretive when it comes to his work, I guess it's to be expected with him being a solicitor.
“What’s in there?” Harrison asks, his face stoic and his tone void of emotions.
“Nothing to think about for today, pick a room and I’ll be back once I park the car somewhere else. Having it outside of this place is a clear beacon to anyone trying to track us,” I say and even though he tries to argue with me he doesn’t put up much of a fight.
I think he wants or maybe needs some time alone, and I won’t turn down the opportunity to have some for myself either. I close the door and stand there looking at the handle for a moment before I get back in the car and drive away.
I NEVER INTENDED to do this, I really did just plan to park the car somewhere a little less conspicuous, but it was calling to me. My very own siren song; I could not resist.
I pull to the side of the road as the images swirl around in my head, this is a very bad idea, but I’m stuck. I can’t make my hand turn the key to start the engine, I guess I haven’t quite finished with punishing myself.
“Tom Beckly, keep your eyes on the road. Just because I agreed to come with you idiots, does not mean I’m going to open my legs for you,” I say, trying to roll my eyes makes my head spin and it’s so fucking funny.
“You are so high,” Michael says, leaning between the two front seats and passing the joint to me.
I shouldn’t have anymore, my mind feels hazy and my body is buzzing but it’s good. I can’t think or remember any of the bad shit, so why the hell not? I take it from him and put it between my lips, drawing in a large drag. It’s as I remove it from my mouth that his closes on mine and swallows the smoke in one go.
I rear back or at least I try to. I can’t be sure if I only moved slightly or whipped myself away when everything is moving in slow motion, I can’t believe he did that. Haven’t I made myself clear enough; I’m not interested in them like that. If anything, I hate their guts, they’re a means to an end, nothing more or less. They got me out of the house and away from my mum and I gave them the means to get wasted, fair deal in my opinion.
“I’m sick of driving, take the wheel hot stuff,” Tom says, as his eyes move slowly down my body and I will agree to pretty much anything if it will stop him from looking at me like I’m some piece of meat.
I really shouldn’t drive, but who is going to be out at this time of night? Oooh my face feels funny, I wonder where I can get something to eat. I am starving! Focus Henleigh, you need to drive and pay attention.
I slip free from my seat belt and stand up as Tom slides beneath me and squeezes my arse, I slap him hard across the face leaving a nice red hand print before slipping behind the steering wheel and taking the joint back for myself.
“Try that again motherfucker and see what happens,” I bite out, my anger is rearing its ugly head and the high isn’t dampening it.
I wonder what will help. I have a great idea. That’s what's running through my mind as I slam my foot down on the accelerator and switch up the gears until I’m pushing the car to its limits.
“Wow, look at you go, I love a hot head,” Tom says leaning closer, right as I take a corner fast and hard which sends him crashing into his door. Serves the twat right for not wearing his seatbelt.
“Put some tunes on,” Gary says, waking up from his stupor, that boy cannot handle his weed.
Tom puts on some heavy bass and the vibrations work their way through me as I take another corner too hard and fast, and this is when I see her. So pretty as she stands in the middle of the road, it wouldn’t have mattered if she wasn’t frozen in fear, I was going too fast to prevent any of it.
I slam into her and she rebounds off the windscreen before hitting the ground, I don’t know how many times she bounces as I come to a screeching halt.
“Fuck, fuck FUCK!” I scream as I bang my hand against the steering wheel, I go to release my belt when Tom closes his hand over my wrist and squeezes hard enough that I hear a pop.
“Don’t even think about it, get moving Henleigh,” his eyes are cold and hard, and fear is shooting through me as clarity tries to return.
“Relax man, she’s a smart lass, she knows she needs to drive otherwise something bad might happen,” Gary says with a crocodile grin.
I look in the rear view mirror and see a finger twitch as tears fill my eyes and that’s the only look I take, before shoving the car back into gear and driving away as fast as I can.
Four joints later and I still feel the guilt, but it’s not holding me under just yet. I’m dreading the moment I come down, please be okay, please be okay. No matter what happens, I know what I have to do, first thing tomorrow I’m turning myself in. I’ll face the consequences; I deserve to be punished. I’d drive this car into a canal right now with all of us in it, but that would be the coward’s choice. A way for me to get a somewhat happy ending by being reunited with Elliott. I don’t deserve a happy ending, mum was right. Elliott should have lived and I should have died that day. They took the wrong Monterey.
It’s like a bucket of ice has been poured over me, I have struggled to remember everything that went down that night, but it has all come flooding back. I never forgot what happened to Rebecca, but I think I must have shut my thoughts out and locked them inside a container that chose this moment to break and spill all my inner demons free.
The only thing that kept me from doing something fatally stupid that night was the fact that Rebecca deserved some semblance of retribution and to have someone pay for her injuries. At that moment I believed she would die, and I knew her ghost would always haunt me, the funny thing is, although she lived her ghost still haunts me. No amount of talking to her or apologising will ever make that go away and I don’t want it too. But I never want to come back here again, I don’t like how it makes me feel so worthless, pointless and a waste of air. I should go back to my parents house, if only I had a good memory here; it’s nothing but desolation and loneliness. Then again, doesn’t every place I have been to hold that? When do I stop blaming the place and realise I am the catalyst, maybe happiness cannot exist when I’m around.
“Elliott, I need you, you left me too soon. I wasn’t ready to face a world without you in it and I’m still not. I don’t know how to live, survive and be happy without you here to show, teach and guide me. Was it worth it? Whatever you did, was it worth the cost of your life? Because I don’t see how anything could be worth this craptastic existence,” tears a
re streaming down my face as I talk to the air and pray to whatever being is listening to give me a reason to keep pushing forward. “I need to know El, I wish you could tell me because I’m starting to think wherever I end up when I kiss this life goodbye, I still won't get to be with you and that makes the loss that much harder.” My body is trembling under the force of my emotion, it’s like all the colour has been removed from my world, it’s all black, white and so many shades of grey. I wish someone would give me the colour back.
I find a street far enough away that anyone following us won’t instantly know where we are, but close enough that we could get to it in a hurry. It would involve running, but I think that will be the least of our problems if someone finds us.
I’M WALKING home when I hear his voice, Tom fucking Beckly. I look down at what I’m wearing and a twisted smile spreads across my face, time for a little payback Tom. You should have shouldered a little bit of blame that night, time for you to taste your just desserts.
I walk around the corner, the streetlights shining down on me perfectly. I hear someone gasp and it does not take long for Tom to turn around and take me in with his usual leery undertones.
“Henleigh fucking Monterey, you are a sight for sore eyes. I was starting to think you’d never come back,” he says with his smile still in place as he comes closer.
I stay out of arm’s length but I don’t make it obvious, I just move as though I’m taking him in but it's far from that.
“Hey Tommy boy,” he has always hated that nickname. “You haven’t changed much,” I say with a slight touch of derision, rolling my eyes as I indicate all of him with my hand. “You’re still lacking in so many ways.”
“Ding dong the bitch is back,” he says, his eyes hardening as he tries to grab me and I slam the side of my hand down on his arm dislodging him instantly.
“Juvie was so much fun, you should give it a try some time,” I say with a deprecating laugh as I spin around on the spot with my arms stretched out wide.