Wreck: Hawke

by Heather C. Leigh

The house disappears from view and I force the nagging thoughts out of my mind, determined to have fun. We sing at the top of our lungs, windows down, all the way to the mall. By the time Emily parks the car, I’m honestly enjoying myself for the first time in a long time.

  Feeling normal shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. It really is.

  Hawke

  “Just take one, Hawke. We’re all doing it.” Lila purrs, rubbing against my side as she holds out her palm, a small packet of white powder balanced in the center.

  “C’mon, man! It’s no big deal. It’s just ecstasy.” Truman Briggs, world’s biggest douchebag and the son of the head of a major film studio, is egging me on. He snatches the packet off Lila’s hand, opens it up, and dumps the contents under his tongue. After a few seconds, he grins and opens his mouth, showing everyone the powder is gone.

  “I’ve done X before, asshole.” I glare at Briggs who is shirtless, wearing only a low-slung pair of board shorts. It kills me not to roll my eyes. The dude lives to show off his six-pack.

  Lila produces a second packet, holding it out for me to take. I glance around, a half-dozen faces I recognize from school waiting impatiently for me to take the drug.

  Fuck! Why the hell not? I’m supposed to be cool, don’t really give a shit about these people, and despise hanging out with them. If taking a hit of ecstasy will give me a break from feeling surrounded by douchebaggery all the time, I’m in. Besides, my parents probably wouldn’t even care. It’s only X, not heroin.

  I take the packet, putting on my cocky face. Six sets of eyes watch as I peel open the end and dump the powder under my tongue without hesitation. They laugh when I screw up my face at the bitter, yet somehow sour, taste.

  “Yeah,” Briggs says, elbowing me in the ribs hard enough that it’ll probably leave a bruise. I stifle the urge to plow my fist into his nose. “Tastes worse every fucking time. But damn...” He closes his eyes and tilts his head up to the sun, a look of total bliss on his face. “It’s so worth it, man.”

  Lila opens her own packet, taking it the same way. The others all grab one, copying her movements. They laugh and shove each other playfully while I stuff my hand into my pocket, finding Hannah’s stone so I won’t have to share any more “bro-hugs” with these idiots. Lila grabs me, dragging me across the sand to the edge of the volleyball court.

  Music is playing and my classmates are laughing and joking around with each other. What would it feel like to be with people I genuinely like? I mean, there are a few people here who are cool, but most are like Lila. As fake as ninety percent of the perfect bodies in Hollywood.

  After an hour of chatting inanely and concentrating on not running away screaming, I get a second wind. Suddenly, sitting on the sidelines talking, watching everyone have a great time seems stupid. Joining is a much better idea. Briggs is dancing with Harper, a stunning redhead whose dad is a big time actor. They’re grinding together sensually, eyes locked, bodies slick with sweat.

  I lick my lips, realizing how dry my mouth is. The sun is still a good ways from the horizon and it’s fucking hot out.

  “Here.” Lila appears, pressing a bottle of water in my hand. “Drink.”

  I chug back half the bottle. Lila stares at me, taking the water back without breaking eye contact. She wraps her full lips around the opening and takes a drink, her tongue swiping over her mouth when she’s done.

  Jesus. My jeans are suddenly really tight. The outline of my dick would be obvious to anyone who looks. Despite the fact that my dick should never get hard in front of Lila, I can’t seem to be bothered to care. In fact, when I look at Lila, I realize she’s pretty fucking gorgeous.

  Why do I hate her again?

  Needing… something, I take the bottle out of Lila’s hand and finish the rest, still meeting her heated gaze. I toss the empty container to the sand and grip her tiny waist. With a quick tug, I pull her up against my crotch and she gasps.

  Without a word, Lila wraps her arms around my neck and we begin to dance—grinding, rubbing—the sensuality of her touch near overwhelming. It’s both the strangest and most thrilling experience of my life.

  “Your eyes are so beautiful,” Lila murmurs, her fingernails scratching up and down my neck before trailing into my hair. “Brown and blue. One of each.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I respond, my voice husky from my still parched throat. Fuck it’s hot out. “I never noticed before.” My hand finds her face, shining with a light sheen of sweat, and I trail my thumb across her lower lip. Lila opens her mouth and bites down, sucking my thumb into her hot, wet mouth. The intense heat ignites a fiery blaze that trails down my spine and straight to my cock.

  “I’ve noticed you,” Lila whispers, twirling her tongue around my thumb.

  My head is spinning with a barrage of incredible sensations. I feel invincible, as if I could do or have anything, and what I want right now is Lila. The intensity of my attraction is so high, my body is running on pure instinct. I lower my mouth to Lila’s, her flesh so hot it nearly singes me. Lila groans hungrily, sucking my tongue between her lips. I grip her round ass and tug her even closer, craving the connection, the intimacy, the touch of another human being.

  Lila pulls back, her eyes dark, pupils blown wide. She trails a finger down my chest, stopping at the waistband of my jeans. “Let’s go to my car.”

  She takes my hand and I let her lead. Right now, I’d do anything she asked. Absolutely anything.

  It feels fucking great.

  Abby

  “Thanks, Em!” I slam the car door shut and wave as my friend drives away from my house. Happy and smiling, I put the key in the lock and walk inside. Exhausted, I drop my one purchase on the floor and drop onto the sofa, tucking my feet up under me.

  I’ll only close my eyes for a minute, then I’ll do my homework.

  “Abby!”

  The sharp tone of my mom’s voice startles me out of a deep sleep. “Mom?”

  “Abby! Where’s Nick?” I rub my eyes, listening to the footfalls of my mom’s shoes on the stairs. “Nick?” The loud bickering and stomping of my two little brothers entering the house and dumping all of their lacrosse gear drowns out her voice.

  My head spins when I sit up too fast. I check my phone—five o’clock! “Mom? I fell asleep. What’s going on?”

  Her feet pound down the stairs until she’s standing over me, all five foot two inches of her. “He never came home?” My mom’s blue eyes are wide and worried, blonde hair falling out of its usual ponytail, the loose pieces curling around her face.

  “I-I don’t know. I came home, he wasn’t here. Then Em came and picked me up…” My heart stutters. What if something happened to my brother because I wasn’t here? What if he came home and went back out since no one was here to talk him out of it?

  “Don’t,” my mom warns. “I know what you’re thinking, Abby. Nothing Nick does is your fault. It’s bad enough you have to be responsible for watching Jace and Evan after school. Nick isn’t your problem, honey.”

  She’s given this speech before, and she’ll probably give it a hundred more times. Hearing it doesn’t make my response different or the guilt any easier to bear. My older brother is an unpredictable mess at best; at worst, he’s a danger to himself and others. His moods have been stable lately, but you never know when he’ll turn on a dime and you’ll be left with a depressed wreck or a reckless risk-taker.

  “Come on.” Mom grabs her keys and purse. “We’ll drive by the school and see if his car is still there.”

  “Aw, Mom! We were gonna play Xbox!” Jace whines.

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m hungry too,” Evan chimes in.

  Despite their protests, we all follow my mother outside. I struggle to hold back the tears that burn behind my eyes and swallow against the thick lump in my throat. Nick might not be perfect, he might cause our family a lot of stress, but I love him. He wasn’t always like this, and even now I catch glimpses of the real Nick between the periods when his mind takes away
any traces of his true self.

  “He told me he was taking his meds,” Mom murmurs, more to herself than to me. She inhales a shaky breath. “He’ll be okay, Abby.” She gives me a sad smile and turns back to focus on driving.

  Two hours later and we haven’t found any trace of Nick. Mom stopped at the college, the local hospital, and a few of his favorite hangouts. No one has seen him. When we return home, our moods are dark. The boys are sated with the bags of fast food they’re clutching. My mom, like me, is too guilt ridden and worried to eat.

  Mom calls Dad, then goes to her room to call the police. She knows they won’t do anything about Nick until he’s been missing forty-eight hours, but she still reports his absence. This isn’t the first time he’s vanished without saying anything, nor is it the first time we’ve had to involve the authorities.

  Reluctantly, Mom tells me we need to get some sleep in case Nick shows up or calls us to come get him. She’s right, of course, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I lie in my bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling as I alternate between hating Nick for putting us through so much emotional stress, and loving him so much that the thought of something bad happening to him has my anxiety levels through the roof.

  When the phone rings at four in the morning, I’m still lying awake, utterly exhausted. The sound has my heart racing in fear. Please let it be Nick calling for a ride. My bedroom door cracks open and my mom’s tired voice cracks.

  “They found him. Let’s go.”

  I use every bit of strength and concentration I can manage to force back the panic threatening to overflow so I can pull on a pair of pants and stuff my feet into my shoes. All I want to do is fall to the ground and sob, but somehow, I stay upright and do as my mother says, helping her get the boys out of bed and dressed.

  This is only the beginning.

  Hawke

  My body is crumpled up in an odd position. One arm is twisted underneath me, one sprawled up over my head, and my legs are curled up into my abdomen. I try to sit up and immediately regret moving. A white-hot, stabbing pain pierces my skull, radiating out the back. It’s as if the entire chorus of Riverdance is stomping on my head at once. Moaning, I dig the heels of my hands into my temples, pressing hard in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the pain.

  “Fuck.”

  Once the world stops spinning, I take a look around. It’s pitch black out and the only sound is the crashing of waves on the shore. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust and I finally figure out where I am. I’m lying on the sand next to the remains of the bonfire. The party is over. No one else is anywhere nearby.

  Lila left me on the beach? Alone? Fuck, I knew she was a bitch. Anger like I’ve ever known wells up inside. I’m so furious if anyone were here, I’d punch the shit out of them.

  I pull out my phone and check the time. Almost midnight. Not super late then. The party started way early, or more accurately, we started partying too early. My finger hesitates over the button, but really, do I have a choice? It’s not like I have a bunch of friends I can call to come get me. Everyone I know was here with me, and left me behind. Hell, I don’t even have Lila’s phone number to call and rip her a new one.

  Still pissed, I push the button and tap the fingers of my free hand on my knee, drumming out a random rhythm to calm down.

  “Hawke?”

  “Mom? I think… I think I need your help.”

  “Honey? What’s wrong?”

  I swallow back the anger and my parched throat is on fire, as if someone took a blowtorch to it or shoved a glowing hot poker down my esophagus. “I need a ride.”

  “What happened to Lila, sweetie?”

  Scowling, I stop tapping and dig my fingers into my leg. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from taking out my rage on my mom. “Lila took off. I don’t have a way home.”

  There’s a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if my mom is deciding whether or not to leave me here. Or maybe she’s questioning how I ended up stranded at a party.

  “Where are you? We’ll be right there.”

  “We?”

  “We just left dinner with Sebastian, honey. We ate, then went to visit Reid Tannen and Eva Allen. The men lost track of time talking about their new project. Hannah wanted to see Sydney, so she’s with us too. Where are you?”

  I drop my head into my hands and groan. Great. The entire family gets to witness not only my humiliation at being ditched by my friends, but my craptastic drug hangover that has me seething mad.

  “Zuma Beach.”

  “We’re on our way, sweetie. Meet us in the parking lot.”

  “Fine.”

  I hang up and rub a hand down my face. Shit. What the hell was I thinking coming here with Lila? I must have been fucking insane to do whatever the hell I did last night. My head jerks up and the phone slides out of my hand, landing softly on the beach.

  Lila. Holy shit. Images of the two of us grinding together, kissing, clothes coming off… stumbling into the backseat of her car. My headache explodes into unbelievable agony. Oh my god. I had sex with Lila Fucking Griffin.

  I must be the stupidest asshole on earth. I pick up the phone and jam it into my pocket. It cracks against the smooth stone Hannah gave to me.

  Some good luck charm. It turned me into a total fuckup.

  My self-flagellation is interrupted when a pair of headlights shine across the beach, casting the sand in a yellow-gray glow. Before I can bring up another awful memory from earlier today, I brush off my clothes and hop into the backseat of my dad’s car.

  “You look like crap,” Hannah whispers, her eyes half closed.

  I ignore her and lean against the window, pissed off and ashamed. Mom looks over her shoulder and gives me a worried smile, but otherwise, the car is silent. My parents are so awesome. Somehow they understand I don’t want to discuss anything tonight. I’m sure tomorrow my mom won’t be as understanding and will want at least a few details of how I became stranded on a deserted beach in the dark.

  I laugh to myself. Maybe some good will come of this. Maybe they’ll realize what a bitch Lila Griffin is and—

  * * *

  I’m wet. It must be raining. Another drop hits my cheek, rolling up my face toward my hair.

  Up? Can it rain up?

  My head hurts so fucking bad it’s difficult to think. Intense throbbing clouds my mind, pounding so hard it’s as if my heart is beating inside my skull. Slowly, painfully, I reach up and wipe the dampness from my skin right as another large drop splats next to the first.

  “Shit.”

  I rub the moisture away and crack open my eyes. Blackness. I’m surrounded by total blackness, the only exception a gloomy blue glow a few feet away. What the fuck? I’m so confused, I can’t tell where I am or what direction is up or down.

  Another drop of warm water hits my skin and I immediately swipe at it, bringing my fingers a few inches from my eyes to get a better look. Even with very little light, it’s obvious the liquid isn’t clear and much too dark and thick to be water. In fact, my hands are stained an eerie purplish-black color in the faint blue light.

  When I try to move my head to see where the water—or whatever it is—is coming from, a feral scream rips from my chest and throat. Pain like nothing I’ve ever felt turns my body inside out. I’m on fire, every part of me burning white hot and searing at once.

  My neck is somehow twisted at an odd angle, my skin is sizzling with the agonizing sting of a thousand tiny paper cuts, and my arm won’t respond to my brain’s instructions, instead lying limp while my shoulder shrieks in agony.

  The heartbeat in my skull speeds up, hammering out a rapid, drumming beat. Using my other hand, I attempt to push my useless body off the ground, wincing when the bites of hundreds of bits of glass dig into my palm. Minutes… hours later—I’m not sure it matters how long it takes, even if I could figure it out—I finally manage to maneuver my body into a sitting position.

  My chest is filled with liquid fire, heaving f
rom the effort expended. Every square inch of my body is raw. There’s not a single part of me that doesn’t hurt. When I feel another dark droplet hit me, this time landing on the top of my head, I look up to find the source.

  And promptly lose the contents of my stomach before passing out from the pain.

  2

  Abby

  Four years later

  “So I finally get to see your hot boyfriend’s band in action?”

  My best friend, Kate, can’t hide her excitement. “They’re brilliant, Abby. You’ll see.”

  Kate and I met in our Intro to Economics class at UCLA last semester. She’s from the UK, going to school on a soccer scholarship, and mentioned how difficult Psych 101 was for her to understand. Since my major is psychology, I offered to help her out and we’ve been friends ever since.

  “They better be good. I’m missing out on a cozy Friday night snuggling up with my textbooks, the remote control, and a pint of mint chocolate chip in order to be here with you.” I smirk when her eyes widen comically.

  Kate laughs, throwing back her head as she flashes her fake ID at the overweight and very hairy bouncer blocking the door of the venue. He lets us pass without comment, but I don’t miss the way his eyes run up and down both of us from head to toe. Yuck.

  We ignore the lewd stare, giggling with anticipation as we head directly to the backstage area of the club. An older man with dark hair, a handsome smile, and wearing an expensive suit lights up when he spies Kate.

  “Kate! Glad you could make it.” The man wraps his arms around her shoulders, briefly squeezing her to his chest in a friendly hug.

  Kate smiles. “Now that footy is over for the season, I have a little more free time. Abby, this is Ross Evans. He’s the uncle to one of the guys in the band and their manager. Ross, this is my good friend, Abby. We go to university together at UCLA,” she explains. Her British accent somehow makes our lives sound much more exciting than they really are.