Strike: Dax

by Heather C. Leigh

  Kate

  “Kate? I’m home!” I hear Abby enter the flat, the noise of her luggage rolling across the hardwood floor. “Kate? You here?”

  I can’t bring myself to answer. I’ve hardly moved in the two weeks since… since… A whimper escapes my throat. The panicked feelings I’ve been having spread out from the pit of my stomach, worming their way into my limbs. I breathe slowly, in and out, focusing on holding myself together like I read on the Internet.

  Using the Internet as a psychologist when I have a flatmate who has a degree in psychology . That’s what I’ve resorted to.

  A knock on my bedroom door startles me. “Kate?” It swings open a crack, revealing my flatmate. “There you are.” She gets a good look at me and her brow crumples. “Why’s it dark in here? You’re still in bed. Are you sick?”

  “No.” My voice is raspy, tired sounding. “Just having a lie-in, that’s all.”

  Abby stares at me, the psychologist in her trying to piece together the picture she’s seeing. I pull the duvet up higher, trying to hide my swollen, red face. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk?”

  I shiver. The last thing I want to do is discuss that night with my psychologist flatmate. She’ll have me in therapy in no time, reliving it over and over until I’m empowered or some bloody crap. All I want to do is forget. The Internet doesn’t ask questions.

  “No. I’m fine, really.”

  She presses me again. I know if I can’t get it together she’ll be dissecting every little thing I do in that analytical brain of hers.

  “I-I…” I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Kate, what’s going on?” The bed dips down where Abby has sat next to me.

  Still, all I can do is snuffle into the duvet, soaking it with tears.

  “Hey,” Abby rubs a kind hand over my back, speaking in calm, soothing tones. “Kate. Tell me what happened while I was gone. You know I won’t judge you. Does it have to do with Dax?”

  I shudder, inhaling a snotty, loud breath. “No. Not Dax.”

  “All right ,” she murmurs, her hand still making small circles on my back. “Then who?”

  “I don’t want to say,” I admit. Knowing Abby, she’s march right over to the frat house and knock on the door, demanding to speak to Wes.

  “That’s fine. So what did he do? I’ve never seen you this upset.” Abby hands me a box of tissues off of my desk.

  “Thanks.” I mop up the mess of tears and snot, my sobs weakening to a silent clench in my heart. Steeling myself, I tell Abby about the party, how I drank too much, how I let Wes bring me home, and what he did.

  Abby takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “I hope to god you reported it,” she says icily.

  “I didn’t want to.” I fiddle with the used tissue. “But I did.”

  “What did the police say?”

  I shrug. “I had already cleaned up. He didn’t actually, you know,” my face burns with shame, “put it in me. There was no evidence. They spoke to him and that was it.”

  “I hate this,” Abby whispers.

  “What?” I look over at her, surprised to see the pure, undiluted loathing on her normally serene face.

  “I hate that he’ll get away with it.” She scowls, turning to me. “Even if you saved your clothes, really, it would just be your word against his. What’s the point?” Her voice rises until she’s shrieking. “They always get away with it, Kate! I fucking hate it!”

  My mouth falls open in shock. Abby swore. Sweet, easy-going, laid back Abby.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “Don’t be sorry. He’s the sick bastard that did it, not you. You have nothing to be sorry about,” she snaps.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.” There’s nothing left to say. I’m drained. Completely drained.

  “Well, you know I’m here if you need me.” Abby stands up. “Are you hungry? Want to order a pizza?”

  “Sure. Let me clean up.” I haven’t eaten properly since she left for the holidays. I’m sure I’ll have to force the food down. Brilliant. Hopefully I don’t gag.

  I turn the shower up as hot as it will go and step in, letting the water scald my skin. I’ve had dozens of showers since that night, but I never really feel clean. It’s as if I’m dirty all the time, tainted somehow. Even though Wes technically didn’t rape me, what he did makes me sick to my stomach every time I think of it.

  Tears start flowing, mixing in with the water and washing down the drain. Each drop that falls represents something I’ve lost—trust, hope, my soul, Dax—the pain is so powerful it nearly doubles me over.

  Dax is no longer the only man that’s touched me. I think that’s what hurts most of all.

  Once I’ve stopped sobbing in the shower, I clean up and get dressed. It takes all of my energy to put on a pathetic sort-of smile as I head for the lounge. Abby already has the pizza open on the small table in front of the sofa and is dishing out pieces onto plates.

  “Did you get out on Christmas at least? Or New Year’s?” she asks through a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. I can tell by the pinched look on her face that my story affected Abby more than she’s letting on.

  “Nah. I spent both days watching the telly. Loads of holiday movies on.”

  I actually spent Christmas and New Year’s in bed. First, crying over Dax, then crying over Wes and what he did. The day after it happened, I broke down and rang Adam, letting him calm me down with his comforting voice. I don’t know why I called him.

  Was it a subconscious way of reaching out to Dax? Maybe because he’s a tie to my home and that makes me feel safer somehow? I couldn’t ring up my parents and tell them. They’d never get over it. They’d make it their fault somehow. By letting me come to uni here.

  Whatever my reasoning was , Adam was incredibly emotional over the whole thing. He’s a great listener, always has been. Adam is a very sensitive person.

  It helps that both have our demons so we’re able to speak freely with one another. He still laments the loss of Ellie, trying to work through the guilt he feels for running her away after that posh party almost two years ago. I’m quite certain he’ll never be over that moment, never be over her.

  I confided in Adam about the assault I suffered. He let me use him to vent my anger at Wes and at myself for getting so drunk that my judgment was impaired. Adam was the one who begged me to call the police, but by the time I did, several days had passed, any evidence long gone.

  When I hung up I cried some more—not that I’ll be telling Abby any of that. She doesn’t need to know that I’m speaking to Adam.

  “I really wish I had pushed you to come home with me. My parents would have loved to have you.”

  She frowns and wipes her hands with a napkin. “I could have used someone there with me. My younger brothers were just awful. Jace is in those moody teenage years where all he wants to do is hide in his room and play X-Box or text his friends. Evan has been accepted to Columbia, in New York, so his girlfriend was all over him dropping hints about how she’s always wanted to live on the East Coast.”

  I smile for the first time in two weeks. Abby’s family is perfect, even if her brothers are annoying sometimes. “Is she going to go then? With your brother to New York?”

  Abby laughs so hard she chokes on her drink. “No! Christ, no. My mom and dad would kill him. School always comes first with them. They wouldn’t let Evan screw up his future with the distraction of having his girlfriend tag along.” Abby makes a face, as if she thinks her parents are being ridiculous.

  Unfortunately, I do know about difficult choices. Just like her brother and his girlfriend . My choice to be with the one I loved was taken away from me. Only, the decision to split us up didn’t come from a parent doing what they thought was in my best interest. No, it came from the person I trusted with my heart, only to watch him crush it to bits.

  So what? I’m not the only one to lose someone. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Misery lov
es company? That’s rubbish , because right now, my miserable self wants to be left completely and totally alone.

  CHAPTER 14

  Dax

  Three months later.

  “Christ you’re being a miserable bastard today,” Adam says, glaring at me from across the tiny sound studio. “What do you have to complain about?”

  “Fuck off, Reynolds,” I growl.

  Adam’s eyes flash with anger. “We’re never going to get this done if you don’t man up and bloody concentrate!”

  Hawke and Gavin are watching us carefully, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us as we argue.

  “Don’t fucking talk to me about responsibility, Reynolds! Half the time we’re due for studio time you’re either rat-arsed or coming off the piss, so sod the fuck off!” I roar.

  Adam’s eyes go wider than I’ve ever seen. I’m normally sympathetic to his issues with alcohol. Even more so now that I know what it’s like to love someone and lose her. Today is just not the day to fuck with me. I’m confused and angry and ready for the closest target to let loose all of that negative energy on.

  Adam just made himself the obvious choice.

  He yanks off his guitar strap, placing the instrument on its stand. “Fuck you, Davies!” he snarls before turning on his heel and storming out of the booth.

  “Well, that went wonderfully,” Hawke says. “I guess we’re taking a break?”

  A voice booms over the speakers “Jesus. Yes, take a ten-minute break. Davies, in here. Now.” Our sound engineer Gary is in the booth on the other side of the glass, his expression stormy.

  Gavin pats my shoulder and follows Hawke out of the room. I put my guitar down and count to three before entering the control room. Gary is scowling, ready to explode in anger.

  “What the fuck, Dax?” He leans back in his chair, staring me down with hard, grey eyes.

  “Reckon I’m not feeling it today.” I say it unapologetically. Sue me, I feel like being a whinging bastard today. I’m entitled after the dream I had last night.

  “Too bad. You’re booked in here through the rest of the week and Griffin expects it all to be laid down by then.” Gary narrows his eyes, challenging me to defy him.

  A challenge? That, I can do.

  “Griffin can go fuck himself,” I snarl, storming out of the booth. Gary tosses out threats that bounce harmlessly off my back. I’m too busy fuming to pay attention.

  Of course, since today seems to be the day that karma kicks my ass, I run right into Lila and that bloody film crew that follows her everywhere. She always manages to get her schedule to coincide with mine.

  She’s either a bloody psychic or she’s stalking me. I know which one I think it is.

  “Daxey babe, there you are.” I duck aside before she can get her octopus arms around me. Lila is flat out barmy. Nearly three fucking years of me dodging her, ignoring her, and even yelling obscenities at her and she still thinks we’re a couple. She’s completely demented.

  Three months ago, daddy got her a reality TV show and her number one goal is to prove to the world that she and I are madly in love.

  Never going to happen.

  Unfortunately for me, being a complete wanker to her hasn’t worked. The first episode aired a few weeks back and they edited all that shit out, making it look like my sole purpose in life is to hang around Lila. I threatened to sue her for misrepresenting me, but Ross said something about an appendix on television appearances in our contract. It’s worded so broadly that he says there’s nothing I can do except try to avoid getting caught on camera.

  Easier said than done when you have a five foot one, hundred pound, bleach blonde stalker who happens to be the daughter of your boss, a very important man in the entertainment industry.

  “Let’s not have a repeat of last week, Lila.” I smirk at one of her cameramen who swallows nervously.

  “Oh Daxey, you wouldn’t hit Kirk again, right?” She turns to Kirk, his camera shaking in his hand. “He’s kidding, Kirk.”

  “No, I’m not.” I shoot him a lethal glare.

  Kirk made the mistake of getting way too close while trying to capture a shot of Lila attempting to wrestle a kiss out of me.

  “It’s not my fault you’re learning impaired, Lila. I’ll do it again in a heartbeat if you or him ever gets that close to me again.” I stab a finger in Kirk’s direction, causing the man to go ghostly pale.

  Lila’s mouth flattens into a line, then she smiles wickedly. “Don’t be such a grouch, Daxey.” She leans in to my side, trying to get a few shots that make us look like a cozy couple.

  “Sod off.” Without a second thought, I walk away, leaving Lila to stumble without my shoulder supporting her. I ignore her pleas for me to come back, grateful when I turn a corner and can’t hear her annoying voice anymore.

  “Dax!”

  I stop, looking into one of the small rooms that are used for ‘talent’ to rest up between recording sessions to see who’s shouting. I find Adam leaning just inside the door. “Get your stupid arse in here.” He motions for me to enter.

  “Adam,” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m in a really really shitty mood right now, yeah? It’s probably not a good idea—”

  He steps into the hall and yanks me inside the room by the wrist, slamming the door behind us.

  “Too bad. I was never in the mood for your harassing when I was hung over or acting like a wanker, but you never let up on me. And I have to tell you, I’m grateful for it.”

  My eyebrows must shoot up into my hairline I’m so surprised. Adam has never once let on that he appreciates my efforts to keep him sober. All he ever does is call me and the other blokes nags while he starts his whinging.

  “You’re grateful?”

  Adam folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall. “Yep. So, now you know. I actually do hear you when you tell me to get my head together, to man up and quit burying my head in a bottle. I don’t always do what you want, but I know you’re there for me. To pay you back, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on and let me be there for you.”

  My best mate, the one person in the entire world who knows me better than I know myself, is staring at me hopefully, waiting for me to do the one thing I never, ever do… let someone in.

  I hate to admit it, but I’m exhausted. Years of being a rock, ignoring my own needs and feelings, putting up a strong front for everyone—it’s fucking killing me. Maybe it’s time to let someone else share the burden. Since it can’t be Kate, it may as well be Adam.

  “Fine.” I move past Adam and sit on the small sofa tucked to one side of the room. “It’s about Kate.”

  Adam rolls his eyes. “Of course it is. I’m not stupid you know. What happened with her?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Dax. I’ve known you a long time. Years. More than a decade actually. The only time you get emotional in any way is when you’re thinking about Kate or your dad.”

  “I’m not emotional,” I say defensively.

  He snorts. “Not in a touchy-feely way, no. More like an ‘I’m so angry I’m going to beat the absolute shite out of you’ way. You only have two settings, icy cold and erupting volcano.”

  I bristle at his apt description. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t be a big girl’s blouse. We all have our weaknesses.” Adam is grinning. “What happened?”

  I tell him what I dreamt this morning. “Kate was being attacked. I couldn’t get to her. Fuck! It was awful mate. To see it, to feel so helpless.”

  He nods, swallowing loudly. “Yeah. That would be awful.” His voice wavers as he speaks. I scowl at Adam’s odd response.

  “Anyway,” I continue, “I woke up sweating with my heart racing so fast, it was as if it were going to explode in my chest. It felt so real.” I lean over and put my elbows on my knees, running my hands through my hair. “You know my dad and his rules.”

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  “I refused to break
any of them in the dream. I refused to get upset. I let her think I didn’t give a shit that she was being hurt. It was as if I was the one hurting her. I…” I breathe deeply, wincing when it hitches in my chest. “I didn’t fight for her, defend her. She’s… she’s like fucking family, Adam. And I did nothing.”

  Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, digesting what my dream means, if it even means anything.

  “Well,” Adam says, nervously rubbing the back of his head, “I’m sure it means that you think you let her down somehow. That you think of yourself as her protector…” he stops, tears welling up in his eyes. Goddamn tears over my dream!

  “What is this about?” I snap, standing up to pace the tiny room. The stress has me so wound up I’m ready to burst out of my own skin. The room feels smaller all of a sudden, like I’m being squeezed from all sides.

  This must be what the Hulk feels like right before he rips his clothes and turns green. “Why are you all touchy and sensitive? It was my fucking dream! My fucking girl, Adam!”

  He turns, snarling at me, his hands gripping his hair in frustration. “She’s not your girl, Dax! You dumped her, or have you forgotten? You had everything and you tossed it, you stupid sod!”

  I glare at him, clenching my fists. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

  “‘I’m not trying to pick a fight. But…fuck.” Adam lets out a huge breath. “There’s something you should know. About Kate.” He sits on the sofa, leaning forward with his hands covering his face. “Shit. I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but…”

  A chill wracks my body, putting goose bumps down my arms. The temperature in the room just dropped ten degrees. Adam’s behavior has an ominous feeling hanging over me, as if the floor is about to fall out and I’ll find myself hanging by an invisible noose that has somehow slipped around my neck.

  If Adam doesn’t tell me what’s going on in the next ten seconds, I’m going to flatten him into a smudge on the floor. As strong as I think I am, as much control as I think I have over my actions, it’s seems to be that when it comes to Kate, I have very little choice in the matter as to what I do next.