Devilishly Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  “You missed most of the funeral. So, here’s to Cathy,” my father raises his glass to clink with mine before downing the amber liquid. Knocking my own back, I lift the glass for a refill which causes him to grin. Falling into a comfortable silence, we sit watching some bullshit on tv either of us know. The lights from the pool outside fill the room with a blue hue shimmering gently on the walls. I can’t remember the last time we hung out like this, without his overbearing disappointment of me coming between us.

  “Why is she so important to you?” I break our peaceful moment, needing to hear his answer. Who knows if we will ever get time together like this again?

  “Avery’s arrival didn’t make us love you any less, Wyatt. You just assumed it did.”

  “That didn’t answer my question. I have to know what it was about her that appealed to you and mom so much. You could have handed her over to the police and walked away that night, but you didn’t. Why?” I hang my head, waiting for his answer. Desperate for it. After a minute of silence, I turn my head to see my father’s eyes are closed and his chest rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep. The anger I had managed to briefly forget returns tenfold. I was so close to the answer I needed.

  Switching the tv off, I grab the duffle bag and leave my father on the sofa as I take the stairs two at a time up to my improvised bedroom. I’d dragged my mattress down here by myself in the middle of the night during that first summer with her, in stubbornness of being outcasted by own parents. Part of me wanted them to think I was missing, to start a man hunt for the son they’d forgotten they loved. But nothing happened. I eventually got hungry and bored enough to venture into the house where they were all laughing over a stupid card game, not realising I wasn’t upstairs.

  Finding lounge pants and toiletries in the bag, I change and brush my teeth, spitting the minty froth into the pool beneath my balcony. Reclining on the lumpy mattress, my legs hang off the end and my arm will have to suffice as a pillow. Making a mental note to call an interior designer in the morning and offer to pay whatever it costs to transform this damp building into something much more worthy of me, I drift into an uncomfortable sleep, haunted by the blonde girl that ruined my life.

  ∞∞∞

  “Are you sure you have to go?” Avery whispers into my father’s ear, her eyes pleading him to stay. Crossing my arms, I smirk. She should be worried; I’m going to make it my mission for the foreseeable future to destroy her. Then I can get back to college with the satisfaction that I ruined her life the same way she ruined mine. Kissing her on the forehead, my father reaches out to clasp my shoulder.

  “Don’t let anything happen to her,” he says, and I fight an eye roll. Slipping into the back of a white Rolls Royce, father’s driver closes the door after him and walks around to the driver’s side. The engine starts up with a deep rumble and the vehicle creeps past slowly. Rolling his window down, my father smiles at Avery as she waves at him. Throwing my arm heavily over her shoulders, I pull her close and wave enthusiastically with the biggest, most sarcastic smile I can muster. His eyebrows pull together quickly before the car moves down the driveaway, passing through the main gates and speeds out of view.

  Shoving Avery out of my grip roughly, I pat myself down as if I’ve caught her germs. She makes a choked noise in her throat and stomps back into the house to find her hot little friend. The sun has already started its descent in the sky, reminding me this is just Day 1 of around 70. The interior designer I called this morning had a whole team of grafters in by lunchtime to convert my shabby pool house into a real bachelor pad. I reckon they should be done by tomorrow, with all new furnishings that will need christening.

  Turning to walk back inside, the main gates reopening distracts me. A burnt orange Nissan GTR rolls up the driveaway smoothly, halting right in front of me. Four hulking men hop out like a high-class version of a clown car and all run towards me.

  “Wyatt!” Dax shouts a second before he tackles me to the ground in a bear hug. Hollers and added weight land onto Dax’s back, pinning me down in a Shadowed Souls scrum. I laugh and wheeze, their bodies lifting and Huxley offering me a hand up. Garrett slams a meaty hand onto my back and Axel scruffs up my mousey brown hair.

  “Guys, I saw you the other day,” I laugh but they are always like this, whether it would have been a few hours or a few weeks.

  “We missed you,” Axel says, his hand still lingering around the back of my neck. I’m used to his touchy-feely ways, understanding that we all have needs that aren’t fulfilled by our biological families. Our bond might seem weird to others, but we don’t give a fuck about what anyone else thinks. Students at Waversea College learnt a long time ago not to put those thoughts into words or we rain down our own personal kind of hell on them.

  “Sweet ride, where’d you get it?” I round the vehicle and eye it appreciatively. Dax leans inside the open driver’s door and pops the hood for me. Wolf whistling, I swear the gleaming twin-turbocharged engine is so damn sexy, my dick actually twitches.

  “I can’t survive without a mode of transport, so we hit a dealership as soon as we landed. I’ll enjoy driving it back to Utah too.” Huxley sniggers. The dude loves to drive but fuck that 27-hour road trip. I’ll be flying back.

  “I’m starving,” Garrett announces, already striding into the mansion. We all smile, used to Gare’s constant state of hunger and follow him inside.

  “Kitchen’s that way,” I point to the left where the two girls are sitting on stools at the breakfast bar, their eyes widening at the sight of my brethren. “Bedrooms are upstairs, take your pick of whichever one you want.” Glancing around and back out to the lack of storage in the Nissan, I question Dax about the lack of luggage – in particular, mine.

  “Don’t panic sunshine, it’s being delivered by the airport’s courier later on.” I grunt, itching to get out of these suit pants. My father thought he was hilarious sending an outrageous Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts I’ve never seen him wear to the pool house this morning, but I was not amused.

  The other guys run off to fight over bedrooms like children on vacation while I join Gare in the kitchen, who has already managed to sweet talk Susie, the cook, into making him a grilled cheese sandwich. He can be real charming when he’s hungry, despite being just as venomous as the rest of us when its needed. An involuntary shiver runs down Avery’s spine as I pass by giving away how worried she is, and should be.

  “Garrett, this is Avery and her little pet, Meg.” Gare glances over at the girls, knowing full well who they are from years of listening to my rants. His pleasant smile drops, creasing his eyebrows over his hazel eyes and clenching his jaw to momentarily reveal the monster lurking beneath. Susie turns with his sandwich on a plate and his easy smile in instantly back in place, dimples and all. Winking in thanks, he grabs the pot of Pringles the girls were sharing and walks out of the room.

  The stuck-up cows jump down from their stools, levelling a munching Garrett with death stares as they walk upstairs. Joining him on the U-shaped cream sofa, I kick my feet up onto the glass coffee table and reach over for some Pringles. Ignoring his growl in protest, I munch on a handful while looking around the living room. A huge plasma TV is mounted on an exposed grey stone wall above a large open fireplace. Behind the sofa is a piano, next to a curved archway which leads further into the house. Floor to ceiling windows, that can be slid aside, line the entire left side of the room showing the pristinely manicured lawns and pool outside.

  “Hey Gare, what time is it?” I ask, waiting for the perfect moment as he takes a colossal bite. Giving me a pissed side eye, Gare glances at his smart watch.

  “Um, 5.” He muffles through his mouthful of food. “Why?”

  “I think it’s only fitting that I am thrown a welcome home party, don’t you think?”

  “Fuck yes!” Huxley shouts, throwing himself over the back of the sofa to join us. Taking the other half of the grilled cheese sandwich, Gare shouts in protest but Hux has already bolted
over the coffee table. I pat his shoulder in sympathy, knowing we always give him shit while he’s trying to eat.

  “Don’t sweat it, we’ll order enough pizza to feed a small village.” Gare smiles at me, melted cheese stuck in his teeth that I try not to grimace at. Catching onto my discomfort, the bastard launches himself onto me trying to kiss my face. Fighting him off and rolling off the sofa, I shoot off to find the others and turn this night around. This weekend, I’m going to forget my stresses and enjoy being back in my own home. But come Monday morning, Avery had better watch out.

  Avery

  Thumping starts pounding from the room below my feet and I eye Meg curiously. Heavy bass bouncing around the walls causes my hanging mirror and light shade to wobble. Sliding off the bed, Meg sneaks out into the hallway and peers over the bannister. She quickly darts back in and closes the door behind me, her features projecting excitement but I can’t help feeling panicked.

  “They are throwing a party! There’s a DJ and everything.” she practically squeals. Glancing around my room unsure of what to do, Meg sighs in exasperation and drags me into my walk-in closet. “This is your house too Ave. If there’s a party happening in it, then we are going.”

  “I really don’t think we should-“ Meg covers my mouth with her hand.

  “We’re crashing it.” She says, staring into my eyes with determination until I nod in agreement. Her wide smile is back in an instant, her pale blue eyes practically twinkling. Trailing her fingers through my clothes, she gets to work picking out outfits for both of us.

  “I’ll go hop in the shower then,” I grab a towel and leave the queen of fashion to it. I could only have a stack of bedsheets and Meg would still be able to produce gorgeous outfits for us both. Opening my bathroom door, I’m greeted with a very gorgeously naked man drying his shoulder length blonde hair with a towel.

  “Oh my gawd!” I screech. “What are you doing?! Get out of my bathroom!” I can’t help but to take a peek at his body, the angle of the mirror giving me a perfect view of his torso. A rock-hard chest sits above tightly corded muscles lining his abdomen, leading down to a deep V. Forcing my gaze back up to his chocolate brown eyes, he rolls his tongue sexually at me in the reflection to reveal a tongue piercing. Blushing hard, I force myself to look away and stop visualising exactly what I’d like that piercing to do.

  “This is my bathroom now too sweetheart,” he gestures with his chiselled chin to the opposite door adjoining the two bedrooms. Fuck, I’d completely forgotten about that door since no one has ever stayed in the guest bedroom since I’ve been here. Leisurely striding back into his room, I stare after his beautifully peachy ass beneath a tattooed angel crouching on his back, her huge feathered wings stretching across his shoulder blades. My mouth waters to take a bite until the door slamming jolts me out of my daydream.

  Running over, I quietly turn the key on this side of his door to lock him out while I shower in peace. Turning the dial back to full heat after he’s obviously meddled with it, I step into the warm spray and wash my long blonde hair. Using a sponge, I quickly pass the suds over my body, ignoring the inconvenient ache in between my legs.

  I don’t know what has come over me. In no way am I innocent, having attended a frat party almost every Friday night since Meg started at the local college. Elena reckons my fondness of one-night stands is a way for me to take control of my body without repercussions, but I think I’m just an average girl who wants to be spontaneous and enjoy myself. Until around 5 minutes ago, I thought I knew exactly what kind of guy I liked and how I liked him but the intensity of lust pouring through my body right now is shocking me. He was sex personified.

  Walking back into my room in a towel, after sneakily unlocking his bathroom door, I stare at the clothing laid out on my bed.

  “Why are you so flushed?” Meg asks, pointing to my chest. Moving in front of the mirror, I groan at the rose-coloured markings covering my chest and neck. Damn my stupid responsive body.

  “Never mind. Which is my outfit?” I quickly change the subject, even though it’s obvious by her choices which one is intended for me. Shrieks from outside my window distract me, forcing me to notice a line of young women jumping into our pool in barely-existent underwear.

  Rolling my eyes, I walk over to the white long sleeve fitted top and high waisted black shorts Meg is pointing at. It is times like this that I truly appreciate the incredible being beside me. Throwing my arms around her, I bury my face into her brown locks. Meg knows everything about me, possibly even more than her mum does, including exactly what parts of my body I hate to have on show and dresses me perfectly. If it were up to me, I’d probably be a hermit hiding away in sweats.

  “Okay, come on. You’re wet and I want to join this party before it’s over.” I giggle, moving to my vanity to dry my hair and apply my makeup. She’s one to talk since she takes much longer than me to get ready. Spotting her reflection in the mirror, I see she’s almost halfway through a bottle of rosé I didn’t even know she had. Clicking my fingers to make her pass it over, I chuck her make-up bag onto the bed. We will be up here all night if she doesn’t get a move on.

  A short while later, we emerge from my bedroom ready to show these boys who actually rules this house. Meg has scrunched her hair with mousse, giving it a kinky effect to add to her large hoop earrings and see-through red lace top, with a black bra underneath matching her PVC trousers. She looks like a modern-day Sandy hunting for her horny Danny.

  Carefully placing one tall black heel in front of the other, fighting the effects of the second bottle of wine Meg magically produced, we strut arm in arm down the stairs. Strobe lights dance around the walls in time to the heavy beat projecting from a DJ booth has been set up between the fireplace and open outside space. My piano is littered with pizza boxes and dip pots. If there is a single grease mark on the maple wood finish, heads will roll.

  Stepping down the final stair, Garrett appears from the centre of the crowd and pulls me into his body. His solid chest leans against me through a woollen checked shirt, giving him a sexy lumberjack vibe. Floppy honey brown hair flicks forward as he bends to run the pad of his tongue up my neck to my ear lobe. Two deeply indented dimples encase his wide smile, seeming worlds away from the grimace he gave me earlier. Abruptly, he shoves me away from him with a look of disgust and vanishes as quickly as he appeared, leaving me to stumble back into Meg. Righting myself, I shake the scowl from my face and replace it with my usual mask of indifference. These knobjocks may have only arrived this afternoon, but they can’t leave soon enough in my opinion.

  Straightening my top and flicking my naturally straight hair over my shoulder, I throw flirty smiles and winks out like hooks amongst the fishes, drawing a pack of hot guys towards us as we reach the centre of the dance floor. Keeping my fingers interlinked with Meg’s as always, we begin to dance and grind against the muscled torsos surrounding us. Song after song, we sway and lip sync in time with each other as if the guys aren’t really there.

  Mr handsy behind me decides to take his hands off my arse, where I was comfortable with him being, to explore my body which douses my mood immediately. I signal a drink to Meg, our code for get me out of here, so we duck away to find some fresh air. A table alongside the pool has been erected, covered in a black cloth and covered in all kinds of spirits and drinks. A bartender in a black shirt rolled up to the elbows is spinning glasses and bottles around him in an impressive display, drawing us closer.

  “What would you like, ladies?” He asks, handing a bright pink cocktail to another guest, complete with cherry and umbrella.

  “Ooh, two of those would do the trick,” Meg answers for us before turning to me. “I going to grab one of those pizza boxes, will you be okay here for a second?” She whispers into my ear. No matter how drunk she gets, Meg never stops putting my feelings first. Nodding, she slinks away while I watch the bartender repeat his juggling act to make our drinks.

  Strong arms grip me from behind, dragging
me back suddenly. Screaming, I feel the air whooshing by my ears just before I collide with the pool. The iron grip clinging onto my mid-section doesn’t loosen, holding me beneath the water while I struggle to get free. Bubbles escape my mouth on a scream as I continue to writhe, my elbow connecting with a strong jaw. Releasing me, I kick upwards, frantically trying to find his dick with my heel on the way. Breaching the surface, laughter rings out all around the pool’s edge.

  Swimming over to the metal ladder, I pull my weight up whilst ignoring the multiple phones being shoved in my face for a photo to sell no doubt. Pushing my way through the crowd, my gaze settles on Wyatt reclining in a sun lounger with sunglasses on, despite it being almost midnight. What a douche canoe.

  “That’s what happens to uninvited guests, I’m afraid,” he says before downing the contents of his whiskey glass. A golden chain hangs over his white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, dark jeans hugging his legs above a pair of unlaced timberlands. Girls are pawning over him, massaging different areas of his body like the desperate sluts I’m sure they are.

  “I live here! Why are they invited?” Managing to keep the quiver out of my voice, knowing I’ll have a front and centre spot on every entertainment website by morning, I turn to point at the boys in his gang that I can see.

  “They are my family.” He shrugs and those four words cut me deeper than any of his previous bullshit. In this moment, I’ve never felt so excluded and that’s saying something.

  Splashing behind me draws my attention to the overly hot guy from my bathroom earlier making his way up the ladder in only a pair of tight boxers, sneering at me. Grinding my teeth, I kick him square in the chest with my heel, attempting to puncture his annoyingly perfect appearance. He falls back into the water, laughing loudly.

  Stomping through the crowd, I see Meg is being restrained by another one of Wyatt’s hounds – this one seems slightly taller than the rest with a large blonde afro and deep olive skin. He releases my best friend upon seeing my scowl approaching and walks away without looking back.