Beastly Lights

by Theresa Jane

  "What will you do with that one?" I asked, changing the subject and pointing at his damaged phone.

  "Throw it away," he answered dismissively, and I felt an idea grow.

  "I'll take it."

  "What?" He chuckled.

  "I'll take that one," I repeated, pointing at the cracked screen.

  "But it's broken, why would you want that one when I gave you a brand new one?"

  "You can have that one, I don't want it," I said, reaching over and picking up the phone.

  "I don't understand," he replied, sighing and shaking his head, but I was too busy playing with my new phone to take much notice of him.

  "This is great," I smiled, looking up at him after a few minutes of tapping around on the screen.

  "It's broken," he answered dubiously, and I shrugged, looking back down at the bright screen.

  "Thanks Liam," I smiled, turning from him and heading back down the hallway. I heard him mutter something behind me, but I was too excited to finally have a phone again that I didn't even care what he thought.

  Chapter 9: Blank Canvas

  "Freya?" I heard his voice from the doorway, and I looked up from where I had been absently sketching. I wasn't really focused, I had just let my hand skate across the page and when I looked down at it again I quickly slammed it shut, afraid he might see.

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing," I answered too quickly, and he frowned at my suspicious behavior. "What do you want?"

  "I was just going to head to the studio and I thought maybe you wanted to know," he shrugged, and I looked at his posture in confusion. It was almost as if he was nervous, but then something seemed to click in his mind and he slipped back into the confident rock star persona, heavy shutters dropping over his eyes. "Don’t wreck the place," he instructed flatly before turning his back on me and disappearing quickly.

  "Liam?" I called out, and I waited as Liam reluctantly returned to my doorway, looking past me, a blank expression on his face.

  "Thank you," I smiled, and I saw his lips twitch slightly before he regained control and gave me a slight nod then disappeared again.

  * * *

  Liam had left a few hours ago so it was just me, alone in the apartment, again, and the boredom was starting to get to me.

  After an hour of wandering around his apartment, I found myself sitting on top of the bench staring down the white wall in the hallway. It just had so much potential. I looked at it from every angle until I found myself hanging upside down as my hair dangled to the floor as I shook around the loose thoughts in my head.

  Ideas were running through my mind until I just couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to do something. All the white in his apartment was giving me a headache.

  Jumping down from the bench, I hurried back to my room. I quickly scooped up all the painting supplies I owned and struggled back out into the living room. I set the paints out carefully in front of the wall, already mixing the colors in my mind.

  I wasn’t sure how long he would be but I knew I couldn’t restrain myself any longer. When the first stroke of paint slid across the wall, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom wash over me. The apartment started to slip away and all I could see was the image I wanted to recreate. Nothing else mattered.

  * * *

  Setting my brush down with the rest of my supplies, I crumpled to the floor in exhaustion. I lay back with my hands resting behind my head and admired what I had created when I realized it was dark outside. I looked around the apartment in alarm, wondering if he had returned while I was lost in my piece, but the apartment was empty.

  Unfazed by his absence, I looked back at the wall and I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing, I just didn’t know what. It was dark, his silhouette contrasting against the rising sun as it was just beginning to kiss the Manhattan skyline. He stood above it all, as if the sun was rising just so it could catch a glimpse of him. However, I still felt it was incomplete. Why was he so dark?

  "Freya?" I startled at the sudden intrusion on my thoughts and looked beside me surprised to find Liam staring down at me oddly.

  "Umm," I stuttered, realizing my impulsive decision to paint his wall was probably not going to end well.

  "You’re the anti-maid," he chuckled, looking over at where my paints had started to get out of hand, splattering the floor and mixing to create new colors. When he looked back at me I expected to find anger in his face, but instead I found a lazy smirk and when he spoke again, I knew why.

  "You take pleasure in ruining my apartment, don’t you?" he slurred, and I felt his tainted breath ghost across my skin. I felt my stomach turn and I stepped back from him reflexively, paint spilling across the floor.

  "Liam," someone called, and my eyes darted to the kitchen, startled that we weren’t alone. "Where are we headed?"

  "Who are you?" I asked, hating how my voice shook. He was the same man from the other night, and I felt my skin crawl as his eyes fell on me.

  "The better question is who are you?" he challenged in a low voice, and I looked over to Liam, discomfort filling my veins. He had moved to the liquor cabinet and started fixing himself a drink I was certain he didn’t need.

  "Don’t even try Jeb, she won’t buy what you’re selling," Liam chuckled, throwing back whatever he had poured into his glass.

  "I can be very convincing," the man said smoothly, and I heard his footsteps as he made his way around to where I stood, motionless by my forgotten paints. I looked over at him in alarm as he drew nearer, a beer in hand and a dark grin highlighting all the wrong features on his face.

  "You moved everything else in here but not this," Liam mused, motioning to his cabinet filled with bottles of alcohol. "Why?"

  "Umm," I stuttered distractedly as I started to back away from the man Liam had referred to as Jeb. "It…it was heavy."

  "I don’t believe you," he frowned, pouring himself another drink as I desperately searched for an escape. The room was stifling and I felt Jeb's eyes trailing across my skin.

  "It’s dangerous," I answered distractedly as I realized I had positioned myself in the center of the room, exposed.

  Liam shrugged, throwing back his second drink and then turning to look at me.

  "Why don’t you bring her along, Liam?" Jeb continued as if Liam and I hadn’t spoken.

  "No," Liam answered firmly, and I sighed in relief. Maybe he was still inside there, somewhere.

  "Fine," Jeb huffed, leaning against the wall beside my painting.

  "I don’t understand you, Freya," Liam frowned, walking across to me, his breath immediately making my nostrils burn. "Why did you act that way the other night?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You flinched. Why?" he demanded, his amber eyes glazed.

  "You were angry."

  "I was angry?" he scoffed, and I quickly took a few steps back from him until I was pressed up against the kitchen bench. "You don’t make sense."

  "Why don’t you take your friend and go?" I spat, trying to muster up my anger but every time I reached within, all I found was a flimsy mess of nerves.

  "You’re kicking me out of my own apartment?" He chuckled and I edged along the bench until I was closer to the hallway that led to our rooms, all too aware of the man’s eyes still bearing down on me.

  "You’re drunk, Liam," I said cautiously, and he flashed me a challenging smile before he looked over at Jeb.

  "Do you think I’m drunk?"

  "Not even close," Jeb smirked, and while they were distracted, I made my way to the hallway, only two doors away from the sanctuary of my room.

  "You don’t like me, do you, Freya?" I watched him carefully, scared of his unpredictability. "Every other woman would kill to be in your position."

  "What, be your maid?" I shot back, feeling safer with every step I took toward my room.

  "They wouldn’t act like you do," he shrugged, and I saw Jeb watching us closely out of the
corner of my eye.

  "What were you expecting me to do, swoon? Should I be grateful to the almighty Liam Henderson for plucking me out of obscurity and trapping me in his penthouse?" I spat.

  "You want me, Freya," he answered confidently, and I felt my lip curl in disgust as his words became more unclear. "They all want me."

  "I don’t," I said firmly before darting down the hallway and into my room, closing the door quickly behind me. I was about to step away from it when I remembered Lucinda's warning, and I quickly slid the lock into place. I couldn’t hear the voices over the pounding in my head so I wasn’t sure if or when they left. I tried to calm my racing heart by wrapping myself tightly in my covers, but nothing seemed to reduce its pace, his breath still lingering on my skin. Was every man the same?

  * * *

  I woke a few hours later to loud music and even louder voices, and I fought the urge to find out what was going on. I had already had one run-in with drunk Liam, I didn’t need a second and I especially didn’t want to meet the rest of his party friends.

  I screwed my eyes closed and tried to block out the noise, but it was relentless and when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, I felt my entire body tense. A high-pitched giggle rang out, permeating the walls of my room, and I tried to pull the covers around me tighter.

  The girl giggled again, and I clenched my eyes tighter as I heard a bedroom door close over all the noise. Was it always going to be like this?

  All I could do was lie awake as the party continued to grow wilder and wilder. Several times I heard the door handle turn but when it didn’t open, the person would leave and each time my heart would stop.

  Finally, exhaustion caught up with me and my eyes fell closed until there was no noise and just the emptiness of a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning when I left my room, the apartment was silent and I tentatively made my way across the room, dodging party debris and empty bottles. I walked into the kitchen, afraid of what I would find, but it was relatively clean and I got myself a cup of water before sitting down at the bench, not sure what to do. I didn’t really want to see Liam or whoever he had holed up in his bedroom with, but I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever.

  After nearly an hour, I decided to brave his room, afraid of what I might find, but I was growing tired of waiting for him to get up.

  Tentatively, I pushed on the door and was surprised to find that he had left it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I looked inside and found that it was empty. The sheets were a tangled mess, clothes scattered across the floor and the blinds still open from the day before. I saw the bright screen of his phone light up on the bedside table as it vibrated with incoming messages.

  Frowning, I turned away from his room and headed back down the hallway. Where had he gone? I tried not to think about it, but all that was running through my mind was whether he was all right or not. He was in a state before he left the apartment last night. I could only imagine how bad he was when he had come home. Now he wasn’t even here, and it was still early in the morning.

  Walking back through the apartment, I scrunched my nose up at the mess that was left, my paints from yesterday scattered across the floor in a rainbow of colors, footprints tracking where people had stumbled through the apartment. Liam was going to love that when he returned. If he returned.

  Feeling uneasy about being here alone, I grabbed my bag from my room and left the apartment. If Liam could make the mess, he could clean it.

  * * *

  I felt the fresh fall air race across my skin as I left Liam's apartment building. Not knowing what to do, I wandered down the street as the early morning commuters hurried off to their jobs and school children meandered along, eager to socialize rather than hurry to classrooms.

  I was walking slowly past a newsstand when one of the covers of a magazine caught my eyes.

  ‘Party Boy Liam Henderson Is At It Again’

  I felt my lip turn up in disgust as I looked at the picture of him stumbling out of a club, a girl on either side of him. His golden eyes were hidden behind drooping eyelids, and I quickly stuffed the magazine back into the newsstand not wanting to read anymore. He was self-destructive and there was nothing I could do to change that. I had learned that lesson once in my life; I wasn't keen to learn it again.

  ‘Liam Henderson, Out of Control Again Ahead of His Latest Tour’

  I frowned at the next headline. When was he going on tour? I quickly flipped through the magazine and came across the article and was surprised to find he was leaving for a world tour in a month. Putting the magazine back, I looked at the next one and I realized I knew almost nothing about him.

  ‘Is It Over Between Liam Henderson and America’s Sweetheart?’

  When did Liam get a girlfriend? And why hadn’t I seen her since I started living with him?

  "Are you going to pay for that?" someone asked impatiently, and I looked up to find the man behind the stand eyeing me angrily.

  "Sorry," I muttered, putting it back and quickly walking away, my mind a bundle of confused thoughts. Who was Liam Henderson? More importantly, where was he?

  Chapter 10: Babysitter?

  I was really craving coffee, I hadn’t had any in three days, and it wasn’t because I was on a health kick. The real reason I was a little jittery was because Liam hadn’t returned home since that night. I wasn’t sure what to do or who to call or whether this was regular behavior. So, I found myself wandering the apartment, jumping at every noise, thinking it was him coming home but no matter how hard I strained my ears, it was never him.

  By the next morning, Lucinda was on the doorstep demanding to see Liam but just like the time before, I had no idea where he had gone. Still, Lucinda searched the apartment as if I had been lying to her and then stormed out with murder in her eyes. I wouldn’t have come out of the rock I was hiding under either if I knew that was waiting for me when I resurfaced.

  After a second sleepless night, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I found myself gravitating toward my brother’s office. His judgmental secretary glared at me as I ignored her protests that my brother was busy and walked right into his office.

  I wanted to tell him everything that had happened, I wanted to yell at him for putting me in this situation. I wanted to remind him why we left L.A., but then I remember that we left because of me. He had given up so much for me, couldn’t I do this one thing for him?

  So, instead I lied. For a lawyer, I was surprised he bought my lies so willingly, but it was a familiar tactic from my brother. He had adopted it after our mother died. Ignorance was his favorite tactic. The alcohol helped too.

  When I returned from visiting Mase that night, I had small hope that I would find Liam but instead all I found was an empty apartment, dark and cold.

  * * *

  I was sitting in the relocated sofa again, looking out at the sun as it came out from behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the city as it just started to wake. It had been another sleepless night, but I was struggling to understand why I was so worried for a man I barely knew. Why did I care? I was starting to give myself a headache with all the unanswered questions and conflicting emotions, and I just wanted to shut it all out.

  Still, no one knew where he was and because I had found his phone on the first day in his room, we had no way of contacting him. I tried not to think about it, but who disappears for three days without telling anyone where they are?

  I started from where I sat on the sofa when I heard the apartment door slam open and several sets of feet stumbled inside. I twisted so I could see them as they walked in, but I kept myself almost entirely hidden behind the back of the sofa.

  “You could help Liam,” I heard an unfamiliar voice complain as I heard them struggle down the hallway leading from the doorway.

  “He can’t even see, Ryan,” someone hissed in return, and then suddenly they came out from behind the wall and I watched in confusi
on as two men held up a body that vaguely resembled the man I had seen three days ago.

  I could smell him from where I was sitting, and it wasn’t pleasant. He smelled like a dead animal that had been found in the rubbish dump three years after it had died. I couldn’t imagine how bad it was actually holding him.

  “He’s your friend, Ant,” the man covered in glitter said flatly, shifting Liam’s weight as he slumped further forward in their hold.

  “Sometimes even I don’t know why,” a more reserved man muttered, blowing at the dark hair that had fallen across his bright blue eyes.

  “That’s new,” the one named Ryan said, stopping to take a break beside where my painting was. “When did Liam get a personality?” The other man ignored his flamboyant friend and they continued to shuffle through the apartment, lugging an uncooperative limp form between them. They never even looked up to see me peeking at them over the back of the sofa as they disappeared down the hallway.

  Moments later, the door slammed open again and I heard rapid footsteps against the floor before a frantic Lucinda rushed in, a small boy with round glasses clutching her hand tightly.

  “Where are they?” she demanded looking directly over at me, and I pointed mutely at the hallway the three had disappeared down only moments before. She quickly bent down in front of the raven-haired boy, and he looked up at her expectantly with his wide brown eyes.

  “Davis, I need you to wait here for a little while,” she said gently, her entire attitude shifting as she spoke to the boy. “Mommy just needs to speak with her friend Liam. You know Liam?”

  “He broke my guitar,” the boy complained.

  “Yes,” Lucinda sighed, looking at her son’s feet. “That’s him.”

  “I don’t like Liam,” he announced, and I couldn’t say I blamed the kid. Obviously, Liam had a wide range of deplorable people skills, not excluding his ability to offend small children.

  “I know, but I won’t be long. Then we’ll get you to school, okay?” Davis nodded vigorously before his attention shot over to me.