by B C Morgan
“Hang on, what are you talking about? I thought you’d be there,” I say, coughing to try and cover up the way my throat catches. Don’t cry you sap.
“You don’t need me there, you have Noah,” he says as his eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. Fuck me, but how can I not assume this is riddled in jealousy.
I stand up, not caring that I’m only in my underwear and dressing gown. I’m covered and I need to look at him head on, not through a reflection in a god damn mirror.
“H,” he scoffs at my use of his nickname and it’s aggravating me, why wouldn’t it? I’m going to say it, his shitty attitude be damned. Walking closer to him, I watch my own hand as it lays across his chest before my eyes slide up to meet his own.
“Harrison, please come tonight. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you and you give me the courage I never knew I needed, please,” it’s surely no more than a whisper but it conveys so much more than I am willing to say out loud right now.
“Okay,” such a simple word and I wonder if he can see me sag in relief. The twinkle in his eyes tells me he has but it is also screaming at me that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. Fucking hell, everyone says it was curiosity, but I think anticipation really killed the infamous cat.
“Sing for me,” his eyes are darker than the deepest depths of the ocean and my lungs are forgetting how to function.
“I… I can’t, Roxie is the singer not me. I don’t want to be in the spotlight,” I feel and sound as weak as a bloody feather, I can’t do it and I hate that my voice is trembling.
“I’m not talking about tonight, I mean now. Right here in this room, it’s only me and you. Henleigh, you’re not the only one who needs a little courage. Can’t you lend me some?” He steps closer and cups my shoulders in his large hands, stroking his thumbs over the lightweight material of my dressing gown. “The way you sang in front of me and Benjy when you thought no one was looking, why would this be any different?” Such a simple question in theory, but the answer is far from being clear cut.
“Because it’s intimate,” I say hesitantly and he’s wasting no time in pointing out we share a bed, I hate it when he makes a point I can’t argue against rationally.
“I can play a little, I’ll strum while you get ready. I know you might be dreading the very idea but at least you’ll know how I’m feeling right now.” I can feel my eyes opening wider, what is he talking about? I would love to know why he’s feeling uncomfortable. “Don’t be so naive woman, by the prospect of being a third wheel to you and Noah. You won’t even notice I’m there once you set your eyes on him,” I can’t get a good read on his feelings, especially as he turns his back on me. But maybe his clenched fists are enough of a giveaway that I don’t need to see the way his face looks right now.
Sitting down at my mirror, taking in my own reflection isn’t doing anything to settle my nerves but it’s Harrison. For some reason, he makes me feel like I am capable of just about anything. Humming gently, I try to think of a song that would fit this situation, but nothing comes to mind.
“Can you tell me honestly, what is it you see when you look at me? Do I seem strong like nothing will go wrong or am I meek, the epitome of weak. Hey tough guy what is it you see?
Will you give me your strength, help me to push forward, will you stay by my side help to chase away the lonely. Tell me please, can you see… that it’s you I need.”
I look into his eyes through the mirror, but the way he’s turning away from me is gutting. I wonder if this is the way a fish feels.
I get up and my heart feels heavy and I’m just going through the motions and I feel like I’m about to fall apart. I throw on my clothes with very little thought and don’t stop until I’m standing before the full length mirror.
Deep breaths, where’s my composure when I truly need it? Looking in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking at a stranger. It’s not the clothes I’m wearing, with my skin tight top that accentuates my cleavage or the slices in the side revealing just the right amount of flesh. The black distressed jeans and distressed leather boots or the makeup I have on. No, it’s the look in my eyes, who are you Henleigh?
I need to shake it off and not allow myself to get any more nervous or worried, easier said than done but I have to try.
“Baby girl are you ready?” Roxie calls in a sing song voice. Her excitement is easy to hear, just like finding the sun on a cloudless summer day.
I can do this, I’m mother fucking Henleigh Monterey, I guess we better get this show on the road.
SITTING backstage while a band plays out front is beyond surreal, I’m freaking out.
“Hey, you’re going to do great,” Bella says as she wraps her arms around me.
“Where’s Noah?” I ask, my throat hoarse with nerves. I’m so happy I don’t have to be the one singing tonight.
“Out in the crowd, front and centre. Don’t worry he wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she says with a beatific smile. Am I the only one who thinks it’s weird that no one has mentioned either Elijah or Amias?
“Guess I better get out there,” Harrison is so snappy now, I knew I shouldn’t have sung or maybe I should have sung something that wasn’t my own words and feelings. I hate that I feel so crappy right now.
“Please stay,” everyone is staring at us, and I couldn't care less about what they may be thinking.
“Why?” What is it with him and these deceptively easy sounding questions that I cannot answer!?
“Because when I look into that audience I don’t know if I’ll be able to concentrate enough to pick you out of the crowd. And I need to be able to find you, H you calm me. Please,” a simple nod. That’s all he’s giving in response to me shredding myself open before him. Jackass.
“It’s showtime,” Roxie says and her jumping up and down is making me feel nauseous or maybe that’s the nerves. Either way, I really want to hurl right now.
Walking onto the stage, I cannot be more thankful that the lights are as bright as the sun, almost blinding in their intensity. Hallelujah, I can’t make out a single person.
This is going to be okay, I can do this it’ll be just like Padstow. Except my life is in mortal danger and I no longer have my guys, so nothing like Padstow then. Great.
Closing my eyes is idiotic, but I don’t need to be able to see the frets on my guitar to be able to play. It flows out and melds with the others perfectly and Roxie adding her voice gives me chills. It always does.
Oh crap. I should not have opened my eyes, what the fuck is Amias doing here? No, no, no. I can’t do this, but I can’t walk off the stage, it isn’t fair to the girls. Shit!
Deep breaths, that’s what I need. No, I need my anchor, sod it, I need H. Our eyes meet and his lids are heavy, but he looks far from tired. He’s giving me the courage I need to carry on but he’s not looking at me anymore and why are his eyes widening and his face paling? Harrison should not be the colour of alabaster, something is wrong.
Searching the crowd is impossible, surely this room is packed beyond capacity. They’re like sardines in a tiny little tin, and I can’t exactly lend all my concentration on this endeavour when I have to play the guitar effortlessly. I can’t afford to make a mistake, not when it’s their first show away from school, since they got rid of Leah.
A shiver is coursing through me, it had to be a coincidence. But why does it feel as though a laser is being drilled through my chest, into my heart and through my soul. Dante, Mr. Terrifying himself.
Amias is watching me, I know it. Why is he making his way over to Dante? He could annihilate him as easily as blinking. Amias does not stand a chance, can he not see that?
I do not like the smile that is spreading across Dante’s face, it’s as cold as his soul and I now know what his eyes remind me of. A dark, empty void. The kind of place where emotions like happiness, hope and even kindness go to die.
PLAYING until our set finishes is cutting at my nerves, I have no idea how I have pulled this
off. I’m even standing here bowing with the others when I want to run as fast as I can. Can I stop him by screaming so loudly I damage his ear drums beyond repair? Stop being an idiot Henleigh.
“Hey, calm down we just did a great show. Where’s the fire?” Roxie is buzzing from the adrenaline, I guess the performance high is a real thing after all, just not for me.
“He’s here,” I’m beyond frantic and a hell of a lot louder than I was aiming for.
She has no idea what I am talking about, clearly her head hasn’t kicked into gear yet. Running off the stage and colliding with Harrison is the best thing that could happen right now, he saw him as well. I can see it written across his face. We don’t need any words as he is wrapping my jacket around me and pulling me out of the back exit.
I can hear them calling us as clear as day, but we can’t afford to stop and explain what is happening.
“Hello pretty girl,” his tone is colder than the arctic and it is sharp enough to slice through the hardest, toughest skin.
Harrison’s hand is on my stomach, keeping me behind him but Dante isn’t paying any attention. He only has eyes for me.
“How did you find us?” I ask, trying to instil strength in my voice, but it’s as tumultuous as the ocean during the perfect storm.
“I have my ways; I’ll happily share them with you. Is that your last request little hen?” Devon’s nickname for me on his tongue feels wrong on so many levels.
“Henleigh, I need you to run and do not even think about stopping until you’re safe,” Harrison isn’t even looking at me, his eyes fixated on Dante. He can’t honestly believe I will leave him here alone with him.
“Now,” he screams at me as he pushes me away and launches himself at him, I can’t move but him screaming at me to run is enough to get me overriding the freeze response in me. It get’s me moving.
Forgive me.
THANK YOU, Roxie.
It felt so stupid when Roxie gave me this hotel key before the start of the show, but I can’t be anymore grateful than I am right now. I can’t believe I left him alone with Dante, I’m despicable. After everything I have said to him, Ivy and myself and I just run. I don’t care that he told me too, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.
I haven’t got anything with me, my duffel bag is back at Roxie’s and all she has left for me is some very revealing lingerie and clothes for tomorrow. What did she think was going to happen in here tonight? And who did she give the second key too, Harrison or Noah?
Oh god, Harrison. Why don’t the tears cease, I have no right to cry over him. If he’s dead then it’s my fault, it’s Rebecca all over again. Like sister, like brother. You are so fucking twisted.
I don’t know if I should look for him or stay here and wait for something to happen. Dante keeps finding me, why will this time be any different?
It’s been nearly forty minutes since I pounded the gravel and fell into this room, a heaving, sweaty mess. My eyes are like saucers as I hear a beep outside the door, someone has unlocked it. I don’t know who this is, it must be Noah although I hope it’s Harrison. Oh shit, it could be Dante. He’s killed H, taken his key and come for me. Looks like I’m coming sooner than planned El.
I am not going down without a fight, crouching on the far side of the bed with a lamp in my hands, I am more than ready.
The door opens, it should be creaking, doesn’t this situation call for an ominous sound of a creaking hinge as the door is opened by my soon to be murderer.
“Leighbear, little help.”
Harrison is a bloodied mess with his arm wrapped around Noah and Amias’ shoulder. His head is tilting to one side as they drag him across the threshold. The lamp is falling unbidden from my hands and hitting the ground with a sense of finality as it smashes into pieces. Getting in front of them in a nanosecond has to be a record, I have to help them get him to the bed. What I want to do is kick Amias out, but that isn’t the right thing to do right now. The right thing isn’t always that simple.
“I didn’t realise you two had become so close,” Amias says, his eyes screaming bloody murder as his words try to lash at me under the ferocity that they’re spoken with.
“Amias, you did your good deed now go. I’m not going to have Henleigh thinking I’m the reason you are even here,” Noah shoots out and I don’t know who’s more shocked, Amias or me.
“I’d love to know what’s going on here, but Harrison doesn’t need this,” I say, hurrying into the bathroom to get a bowl of water and a washcloth.
“Is there anything I can do?” Noah asks, speaking softly as Amias storms off towards the door and leans against the wall next to the frame.
“If you can help me get his top and shoes off and get him under the covers, I should be able to take it from there. But I have to know, why didn’t you take him to the hospital?” I shouldn’t be mad, but he should be checked out by someone who knows what they’re doing!
“He refused, he didn’t want to leave you alone in case that psycho came after you,” Noah replies as he helps me to undress H, what would I do without him? My Noah bear.
THIRTEEN
I CANNOT BELIEVE Amais refused to leave, I know he’d still be here with us if it wasn’t for Noah. I would love to know what is going on between those two, but Harrison had to be my priority.
“Woman,” he moans as a cough wracks through his body and he’s grimacing as I run the cloth over his chest and abdomen. Revealing the bruises hidden underneath the crimson staining his skin.
“Hush now, we can talk soon,” I say gently, pressing my finger against his lips as I continue to clean him up.
I can’t think about the blood and bruises, it will only make me fall apart if I do.
His hand is pressing against mine, holding it prisoner against his abdomen. Flicking my eyes up to his, I am terrified by what I see there. I’m wrong I know I am, but what if I’m not? How do I handle it?
“You got away,” relief is pouring from him, and if I was standing, I know I’d fall down by how weak he’s making me feel.
“I’m sorry H, I never should have left you. This happened because of me,” I hate that I’m crying, I have no right too. Not with the state he’s in, physically I’m fine how is that fair?
“It was worth it, the bruises, the bleeding and the pain. It’s all worthwhile now that I know you’re safe,” his tone is gruff but softer than usual and it’s full of all the emotions shining out from his eyes.
“Nothing is worth having this done to you,” I say as I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, no doubt I’ll start getting a metallic taste in my mouth soon.
He’s sitting up with a loud groan that seems to reverberate through his entire body. Putting his fingers to my lip and freeing it from my teeth. Why is my breath escaping me so jaggedly? He’s injured for Pete's sake.
His fingers skimming across my cheek are making my eyes want to roll back, I am messed up. Right?
“I’m glad you listened to me, I don’t want you to get hurt,” his eyes are refusing to release me from their hold and the intensity is terrifying for reasons I don’t want to question right now.
“Lay back, let me take care of you,” it falls out without any hesitation and I can’t believe he’s doing as I’ve asked. Twilight zone or what!
The cut on his side does not look good, but at least it isn’t bleeding heavily. Noah left a first aid kit on the dresser which is a godsend, thank you Noah bear.
He winces as he gets back up so I can wrap a bandage across his thick back and around his torso to cover the dressing I’ve attached to him. He’s breathing deeply and it catches occasionally, not that it’s surprising.
“Henleigh,” our eyes connect, and he places his hand across mine.
I can feel the heat pouring from him, and the way his eyes are sliding over me. Damn it feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes. Clearly, I’m projecting the way I feel.
“What is it tough guy?” I whisper in reply, taking in the mottled bruis
ing on his face and his split lip.
“You’re taking care of me,” he groans in pain again and I’m clearly not thinking straight, why else would I drop a kiss onto his bandage.
“What are you doing?” He asks and looking up at him through my lashes may not be the best idea, but my head isn’t functioning at full capacity right now.
“I don’t know, but as a kid I always had my bruises kissed to make them feel better,” man I’m lame, but he’s smiling so it’s worth it.
I drop another kiss across his ribs and my eyes fill with tears as I kiss along the finger marks encircling his neck. Pulling back, his eyes connect with me instantly and I don’t know what to do. Kissing his face may be a little too much, wouldn’t it?
“My cheek hurts,” he says with a croak and I watch as he points out the area.
I can feel my eyebrows rising on their own accord as I drop a kiss on his cheek. He then points to his eyebrow where his skin has pulled apart, so I drop another kiss before applying butterfly strips to keep it closed enough to heal.
“Anywhere else?” Damn my voice, does it have to sound husky right now, it is neither the time nor the place.
“There is one more place,” his eyes are the most intense I’ve ever seen as he places his finger against his mouth. Eyebrows meet hairline.
H looks away and he looks like I’ve rejected him, but how was I supposed to know he was being serious? Placing both my hands on his face to cup his cheeks, trying to be mindful of the bruising, I keep my eyes on his. He looks as terrified as I feel, lowering my face closer to his and placing my mouth against his.
He hisses at the contact, but his fingers are sliding into my hair as his eyes fall closed and he deepens our kiss despite the pain.
It’s hard, unforgiving and damaging but it’s also home. It feels as if we should always be connected, kissing and touching. Does he feel the same way I do or is he simply seeking solace amongst the pain that he’s feeling?