Tranquility

by Ava O'Shay

  “Look you pillow munchers. I didn’t do this for her. If my pledges get in trouble, the house suffers. She got herself fucked up tonight and was putting my reputation on the line. You need to ditch your anal assassin and keep her on a tighter leash.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” Quill growled.

  “I’m the Pledge class president, and I can’t have the guys getting in trouble on my watch.” Brock kept talking, but Quill wasn’t really hearing anymore. Ren had held her virginity as a prize. Even Jolin wasn’t getting any. If some loser had stolen it from her, he’d kill them.

  “Wait. Are you saying she was raped?” Quill put a hand on each side of his head. “If she was fucking raped… “

  To Brock’s credit, he seemed equally disturbed by the prospect. “When I walked in there was a line getting ready for her to bow at the altar.”

  “Stop talking in code. I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying,” Quill shot back. “Fucking tell me what happened.”

  “Her boobs were kind of out there.” Brock held his hands up like he was holding his own breasts. Not all the way though, and the guys were… “

  “Guys!” Quill pulled at his hair. Assad reached out to calm him, but Quill slapped his hand away. “What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

  Brock took a step back. The room was very small to begin with and with three large men in the room it was even smaller. Quill and Assad stood between Brock and the only exit. He had every right to be uncomfortable in the situation he now found himself in.

  With a loud growl, Quill grabbed Brock by the collar of his shirt and pushed him backward until he hit the wall with a crunch. Ren’s neat photo display fell to the ground. “What the hell happened?” he snarled into Brock’s face.

  Assad didn’t attempt to stop Quill this time.

  Brock twisted, getting an arm free and punched Quill in the side of the head. Without pause, Quill’s fist flew back, returning a blow to Brock’s chin. Quill didn’t like to fight.

  Avoided it.

  But the months of pent up frustration and anger over the memories he’d done so well to bury being brought back, he took it out on Brock’s face. Finally, Assad grabbed Quill’s arms, pinning them behind his back. Brock took advantage of Assad’s kindness and blasted Quill in the cheek, sending them both down on their asses.

  “You fuck!” Brock yelled, spitting blood onto the floor. “They were getting blow jobs— coping a feel.” He spit again. “If I hadn’t been there it might have gone further, and I would have had a cluster fuck on my hands. Keep your sister under control. I won’t let her fuck up my life.” He stepped over them and walked to the door. Turning around, he pointed at Quill. “I’ll take care of the guys. Don’t worry about them. If I see you come after them or a word gets out about what happened, or almost happened, this little glitter sleep over of yours will be all over campus.”

  Quill tried to get up and go after him, but Assad still had his arms pinned behind his back.

  He struggled, but Assad held tight.

  “Let him go, Quill.” Assad grunted at the effort of restraining Quill while being squished beneath him on the floor. “Ren needs you now.”

  Quill snapped back to the present situation. “Ren,” he muttered, trying to get up again. “Let me go.” He struggled, finally getting loose.

  Quill crawled to the edge of the bed and wiped Ren’s short hair off her forehead. “Ren. Hey, sis.” He glanced at his bloody and split knuckles. He couldn’t lose Ren. He’d fight for her. He’d kill for her. Tears began to slide down his cheeks. “What did they do to you?” His head dropped to the edge of the mattress, and he sobbed. What had he done to her? This was his fault. He should have stayed at the club instead of coming back to the apartment with Assad.

  Assad slid up next to him, tentatively touching his back in an attempt to offer some comfort, but Quill shook him off.

  Assad sighed and sank to the floor. “What can I do?” he finally asked.

  Quill sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Get my phone. I have to call Mrs. Daniel.”

  Assad pushed off the floor, left the room to retrieve the phone, and then handed it to Quill before leaving him alone in Ren’s room.

  .thirty

  Quill Diaz

  November 21

  4:00 a.m.

  “What the fuck did she do?” Jolin burst into the apartment, his mom on his heels. Assad stood holding the door, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt while Quill moved back to Ren’s side.

  “Who the hell are you?” Jolin continued, his angry rant echoing through the tiny apartment.

  “Jolin. Please. This isn’t helping.” Jolin’s mom’s voice floated down the hall to where Quill had stationed himself at Ren’s side. “You need to calm down.

  “Assad McVee. I play in the band with Quill.” Assad’s voice calmed Quill briefly, until he glanced back at Ren who for all intents and purposes looked dead.

  “I don’t fucking care. Where is she?” Jolin yelled. “She’s in her room.” Assad said.

  Jolin made his way down the hall, his mom stayed behind to talk to Assad.

  “What the hell Quill?” Jolin kneeled beside where Quill had stationed himself with a wet cloth on her forehead. “You’re supposed to be looking out for her. God dammit stop getting high or drunk or fucking around and watch out for your sister!”

  “Me?” Quill let out a laugh. “Fuck you. You dumped her like a hot rock to tap the sorority girls. Where was her prince riding in on his white fucking horse, you son of a bitch.”

  The air in the room sparked with the tension and anger between them.

  Jolin came to stand beside him. “What the hell? Where’d her hair go?” He kneeled down, reaching out the touch her much shorter hair. “Jesus Ren what did you do?”

  “She was meeting you half-way,” Quill took the cloth off her forehead as she began to throw up.

  “Half way to where?” Jolin jumped up while Quill pulled Ren up by her shoulders and tried to support her while holding a trash can in front of her mouth. When she finished Quill eased her back to the mattress, put the can down and used the cloth to clean off her mouth.

  “Every couple of minutes she does that but she doesn’t wake up.” Quill dabbed at the vomit in her hair.

  “Why’s it so red?” Jolin asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably whatever she drank.” Quill looked up at Jolin. “Brock brought her home.”

  “She was with Brock?” Jolin’s concern turned to anger. “No she was at a frat party. Brock brought her home.”

  “What happened to your face?” Jolin finally looked at something other than Ren. “A little anger issue with Brock.”

  “I hope he looks worse,” Jolin snorted.

  “He does.” Assad appeared in the doorway.

  “How long has she been out?” Jolin’s mom pushed everyone to the side and settled on the bed next to Ren.

  “She’s so still.” Quill hiccupped, the tears he’d been trying to suppress fighting to come out. “She keeps puking.”

  “She was unconscious when Brock brought her in. It’s been about forty-five minutes since then,” Assad said.

  Quill looked up at him, as sadness filled him. This was their first and last night together. In his heart Quill knew asking Assad into his life was selfish. He and Ren lived in an alternate twin universe where they had to protect each other. He should have been with her at the club.

  He should never have left with Assad. He knew better than to look for a sliver of happiness and this time Ren was the casualty. Brock and Jolin were right. He’d fucked up again.

  Assad gave him a sad smile. Quill lowered his gaze to Ren’s tiny hand. He couldn’t lose her.

  Mrs. Daniel was lifting Ren’s eye lids and checking her pulse. “I think we should call an ambulance. Her pulse is very low. What did she take?”

  Quill shook his head. “I don’t know. Brock told me she was wasted when he found her.”

  Jolin stood as if he was
getting ready to track him down and kill them. “Brock found her doing what?”

  Assad and his voice of reason stepped in again, “The guy… Brock… he found her in a room full of some guys. From what we understood, she was partially undressed, but not to the point that anything had happened yet. Brock was pretty sure she hadn’t been raped.”

  “Pretty sure she wasn’t raped? Are you kidding me?” Jolin ran his hands through his hair muttering something to himself.

  Jolin’s mom grabbed Quill’s hand. “Ren needs you here,” she said adamantly. “If they gave her Rohypnol, and she already had alcohol in her system, there is a chance she is overdosing and her breathing can stop. I can’t do anything here if that happens. She needs to be in a hospital.”

  “What is that? What did they give her?” Quill started to sound frantic. “Ruffies. The date rape drug,” Assad said.

  “No.” Quill held Ren’s hand tight. “Who’d do that? She has to be okay. She can’t die.”

  Everyone in the room froze at Quill’s words. Jolin made a sound between a moan and a growl then kneeled beside the bed and buried his head in the mattress next to her shoulder. “Please baby. Please wake up.”

  Jolin’s mom pushed on Quill’s shoulder as she got up to go call the ambulance. She glanced over at Assad. “If it isn’t one thing it’s another with these two. Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Quill couldn’t blame her for warning Assad off. She’d witnessed them at their worst.

  Assad ran a hand up his arm and nodded.

  Quill’s gaze fell on Assad’s. He had no idea what he was getting into.

  -oOo-

  The melody of the beeping coming from the machines hooked up to Ren brought back memories of their Grams and how the beeping slowed until it could no longer be heard. Quill felt his lungs shrinking, not letting the air in. He was gasping for the breath he prayed Ren would continue to take. Assad reached over and pushed Quill’s head down between his knees. Slowly, the anxiety subsided, and his breathing eased. When he sat up again, Assad kept his warm hand on Quill’s neck, tracing invisible circles with his thumb.

  Jolin sat in a chair next to the bed, holding Ren’s hand between his. When Quill looked up and met Jolin’s gaze. Jolin raised an eyebrow at Quill. He didn’t know how to respond.

  Assad was here for him and he didn’t know how to define their current situation.

  A quiet knock came at the door before it was pushed open slightly. A nurse peeked in. “There is a Corrine out here to see you.” She looked at Quill.

  Quill looked at Assad, whose expression softened a bit, but his eyes still looked solemn. “I better go see what she wants,” he said quietly before getting up. “Don’t talk about me.” He pointed between Jolin and Assad.

  Jolin gave him a nasty look before turning back to Ren.

  Cori and Don were sitting in chairs set next to the front desk of the hospital. Cori stood up when she saw Quill, then ran to wrap her arms around him. “Oh God, Quill, I am so sorry. Is everything okay?” Quill wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a quick hug before peeling her off.

  Don came up behind Cori and placed his hands on her shoulders to restrain her from throwing herself at him again.

  “You guys didn’t need to come.” Quill shifted uncomfortably.

  “Sure we did. You’re part of the family. How’s your sister?” Don patted Quill’s shoulder in a fatherly way.

  “They pumped her stomach. The doc said the effects of the drugs is about eight hours, but because they don’t know what she was doing before the drug was in her system, we can’t be sure when she’ll wake up.” His voice caught. “Or if she’ll wake up.”

  Don ran a hand over his head. “Well, I guess I’ll get some coffee then. Could be a long haul.”

  “You don’t need to stay. Her boyfriend is here. His mom.” He glanced quickly at Cori. “Assad.”

  He guessed he’d never mentioned Ren much in their daily conversation. It would seem weird someone with a boyfriend got drugged at a party. She probably had the same question he had for himself. Why wasn’t he there to protect her?

  “We’ll stay for a while. Be your gophers. Get coffee, food, whatever you need.” “Thank you.” Quill stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “So, how many coffee orders will that be?” Don rubbed his hands together. Quill looked at him, thinking, then said, “Five.”

  “I’ll go get them, then.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and back peddled away from where Cori and Quill stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall.

  Quill looked over Cori’s head to see it was almost three in the morning. “How’d you know?”

  Cori looked at the ground, then back up. “Assad called.” “Thanks for coming.”

  “Family.” She shrugged.

  Quill nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m sorry.”

  “It happens.” He shrugged. “Our lives tend to be messy.” Cori scowled. “Well it shouldn’t happen. It’s horrible.

  Quill thought it was horrible too, but currently he wasn’t sure what he could do about it except wait and pray Ren got another chance.

  “What happened to your face?” Cori reached up and touched his cheek. “Disagreement with someone.”

  “You seem to have a lot of those.”

  He shrugged again and looked over his shoulder. “I should really get back.”

  Cori cocked her head at him. “Why is it okay for Assad but not me?” Her voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure he heard her.

  “What?”

  “Why are you good enough for him but not for me?” “This isn’t really the time.” Quill evaded the question.

  “No. You’re right. I’m sorry. Go to your sister.” Cori waved her arms around.

  Quill walked a few steps then turned around. “I’m not good enough for anyone. As soon as he figures it out he’ll be gone too.”

  “I’m not gone,” Cori said.

  “You will be.” Quill left her standing alone in the middle of the hospital.

  .thirty-one

  Quill Diaz

  November 22

  4:00 p.m.

  It took Ren twelve hours to wake up.

  And she didn’t remember anything after the concert at The Warehouse.

  She had a horrible headache and spent most of the first hour throwing up into a small pink dish Jolin dutifully held for her while also holding her hair back. Quill wasn’t sure that meant they were back together again, but it was probably a step in the right direction.

  Assad was asleep in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room while Quill sat next to Cori playing checkers.

  “Has she stopped throwing up?” Cori jumped one of her black pieces over his red, taking possession of one of the last game pieces he had on the board.

  “I think so, but you can only watch your sister puke her guts out for so long. Especially since it appears she drank a red concoction of sorts, and it is kind of like reliving a horror film.”

  “Jolin is a great guy.” Cori took another piece off the board with an apologetic smile.

  “He is. His family has been great to her. To us.” Quill slid his piece into perfect position for Cori to jump the entire board and win the game. His mind definitely wasn’t on the game. Or on Cori because before he knew what was happening, she had leaned over the small table set between them and placed her lips softly on his. Quill closed his eyes and let her warmth and comfort flow through him. When she pulled away, he didn’t open his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry this had to happen. I wish I could have done something to help,” she said quietly.

  Quill slowly opened his eyes to meet her dark ones. His eyebrows drew together as he, again, was unable to see what she was thinking in her inky black eyes.

  She mimicked his expression. “What?” “I never know what you’re thinking.”

  “My dad says you don’t need to know because I’ll tell you.” She giggled.

  “I supp
ose. You are quite clear on what you think.” Quill smiled slowly. “So what are you thinking?”

  “Why you think you aren’t worth loving? Why you don’t deserve to be happy?”

  He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Because no one needs the heavy shit I bring, and when they know about it, they can’t handle it.”

  “So you leave first?”

  Quill looked over at Assad, still sleeping. “Pretty much.” “I can handle it.”

  Quill turned his head to the side to look at her. “No you can’t. And even if you could. I don’t want you to have to.”

  “I can handle your shit.”

  God, he loved her. Loved her too much to jeopardize their friendship. He glanced over to Assad, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair. The question was, did he love Assad enough to not push him away? “Yeah I don’t think so.”

  “Sometimes if you tell just one person, it takes the pressure off. It lightens the load.

  Assad did that for me with my mom. Let me do it for you.” Quill glanced over at Assad, who was snoring.

  “I think what Assad did was nail you so you forgot what was hurting you.” Quill looked down at his hands. The blood from his knuckles had dried, but his hands throbbed. “Same thing I do. I fuck to forget.”

  “Is that what you were trying to do the night you were looking to hook up with me?

  Forget?” Cori took his hand in hers, touching the broken skin.

  “Yeah but you deserve forevers not one night stands.” He watched her tiny hand on his broken and bruised one and laughed at the similarities between his hands and his life.

  “I don’t believe in forever anymore,” Cori whispered.

  “Well you should. You deserve better than a fuck in a hall, and that’s all I do.” He pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Doesn’t Assad deserve more than that?”

  Quill leaned forward and drilled her with a stare. “What I am doing with Assad has no bearing on what I’ve done in the past or what I plan on doing in the future. Besides, it is none of your business.”

  She frowned at his words. “Tell me why you think you don’t deserve to be happy,” she whispered.