Devilishly Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  Pulling the tubs from the bag, I slide them across the table for the others to open. Scents of soy, garlic and lemon make my stomach grumble angrily. Dax hands out plates to each of us and I tap my foot, waiting impatiently for the rest to make their selections. If I were to dish up first, there’d be no food left for anyone else. Finally, I pile my plate high with rice, honey pork, lemon chicken, crispy fried beef and a heap of special Chow Mein on top. Axel pushes the remaining prawn crackers towards me at the same time that Hux slides the duck pancakes my way.

  The first mouthful is pure heaven. I haven’t eaten since that neat little grilled concoction Avery involuntarily showed me a few hours ago. Last night didn’t sit right with me, a niggling feeling I couldn’t shake kept me awake in bed for most of the night. I’m all for helping to right the wrongs of our pasts, but it hit me between Avery’s teeth sinking into my neck and her tears coating my shirt that she has probably struggled more than any of us. Lying in the dark and staring at the ceiling, I had run through all of our encounters, trying to find signs of her buried pain, but there was nothing. She hides the effects of her past so well that I wasn’t able to see how deeply she was still trapped in its claws.

  “Hey Wyatt, maybe you could try to dry your phone out in this,” I chuckle, pushing the remaining tub of rice towards him. From the scowl I receive in response, I see the whole phone soaking is still too fresh to laugh about, not that it stops me. It’s the least Moody Malcom over here deserved. After the others have finished eating, they hand their plates to me and start up a game on the PlayStation Hux brought. We’ve been stuck on the same level for weeks, and none of us have come close to completing it.

  “It’s not possible!” Dax complains, gaining his first game over by the time I’ve finished every scrap of food in sight and sitting back with my food baby due any day.

  “Of course it is since there are reports of others completing it.” Wyatt grumbles. “It’s just really fucking hard.”

  “That’s what she said,” I chime in, picking a shred of pork from my teeth. They all roll their eyes in unison like I knew they would. I watch the four of them attempt the same level over and over for the rest of the evening, slightly zoning out. There’s only so many times I can watch a sexy ninja swivel nun-chucks around her body and do a flying kick straight into the opponent’s samurai sword. Beers are passed around so I accept one and chug it down.

  There’s something about feeling so overly full that is its own kind of bloating pleasure. I don’t expect others to relate, they can call we whatever names they like. I work out hard enough to gorge myself whenever I like. No one can fathom the excruciating unbearable pain that starving brings. The feeling of my ribs protruding from my tight skin, the scratchiness of my throat that makes swallowing a chore. All of my suffering and for what? My casino owner parents to be given a fine that barely dented their vast fortune. The system is unjust so excuse-fucking-me if I want to pig out until I get diabetes.

  Having enough of swearing and bashing the controller against his thigh, Dax is the first to retreat to his room. The others disperse soon after but I enjoy lounging in the peace and quiet for a little longer. Finishing my beer, I crush the can in my hand and throw it across the room before heading to the guestroom I chose to stay in.

  It isn’t as extravagant as some of the others, but it has a view over the driveway and a private bathroom with a huge bathtub I will actually fit in. After stripping off, I brush my teeth and walk over to the plush mattress. The cleaning staff sneak in each morning while I’m in the study and make the bed, insisting on lining the headboard with 25 thousand frilly cushions. Placing both hands at one end, I shove all of the damn things onto the floor on the other side.

  Realising I’ve left my phone on the coffee table downstairs, I stride from the room in my boxers. Rounding the dark hallway to the top of the stairs, I notice the flicking light of the TV is flashing against the staircase, which is weird because I’m sure I turned it off. Halting on the top step and peering around the curved bannister, I see the level of our game that’s just caused all the arguing is being played perfectly. The small ninja figure on the screen ducks and dodges, leaps and kicks at the exact right times, our kill count sky rocketing. On silent tiptoes, I creep my way around the staircase until a petite blonde comes into view, cross-legged on the sofa with the controller in her hand.

  That sight just made my dick hard as granite. The noise-cancelling headset covers her ears, allowing me to continue my descent. Upon reaching the back of the sofa, I watch her continue through the level with ease. A sword flings towards her character from around the corner of a building, which makes me jump but she doesn’t even flinch. Skidding under the attack, the ninja jumps up as a manly figure steps around the corner and beheads him.

  Tearing my eyes from the screen, I glance down at the gamer girl and notice for the first time that a baggy hoodie isn’t covering her frame. The head of a phoenix stares at me with one beady eye, its beak open on a silent squawk. Bending down, I take this rare opportunity to examine the craftsmanship gone into creating something magnificent from her pain.

  A glowing orb at the end of the street on the screen signals the end of the level, causing my heart to quicken in excitement. Avery presses for the games options to appear, before scrolling down to quit. My eyes bulge as the screen goes blank and relights with our character back at the start of the fight sequence.

  “Ha ha fuckers,” Avery whispers to herself, removing the headset and turning the device off. I stand at the same time she does, the sound of my knee clicking alerting her to my presence. Avery turns on a gasp and holds her chest as if she’s trying to keep a heart attack at bay. I don’t know whether to scream and shake her for deleting her game progress, or to be impressed with her skills.

  “How did you learn to play like that?” I ask in a quiet voice, not wanting to draw anyone else down here. Only the light from the pool outside shows her bashful expression as she turns her face away from my gaze.

  “There was a PS2 in the orphanage I stayed at. The bigger kids would trade their puddings in exchange for me completing their levels. I was a killer at the dance mat too,” she smiles.

  “You were in an orphanage? Wyatt said you lived with your birth father in London.” She laughs but there’s no humour in it.

  “That’s the funny thing with Wyatt. He doesn’t know a fucking thing because he’s never bothered to ask.” Avery walks around the cream sofa to walk past me in a tiny silk nightie. Small flowers over the bust of the teal fabric, before it falls to her thighs and is finished with a lace trim. Unable to let her pass me whilst looking like that, I grab for her waist and spin her towards the piano. Setting her on it, I push my way between her legs. My erection is resting between us, showing the full affect her skimpy nightwear and gaming has had on me.

  “You’ve never stopped suffering, have you?” I breathe into her ear, a resulting shiver moving down her spine. Looking deeply into Avery’s vibrant blue eyes, I start to see how similar we actually are. Like me, she’s a survivor of neglect but is still plagued by the mistreatment of our parents. Dropping my bullshit act for the first time in….I don’t know how long, I hope Avery can see the real me buried inside. Because God knows, if anyone can bring him to the surface, it would be her.

  Sliding a hand around the back of her neck, she tenses and a fleeting look of worry travels across her face. “Please don’t touch my back,” she whispers. Her words are a dagger to my heart, digging deeply and twisting. I helped to add to her pain, I held her while she was tortured all over again.

  “Never again,” I promise, my lips brushing across her. I should leave. I’m a fucking asshole that will never be worthy of her. I’ll never be able to heal her in the way she needs. But I also can’t not have her in this moment. I’m selfish like that.

  Pressing my mouth against hers, I release her nape in favour of stroking her upper arms with the backs of my fingers. Her hands brace on my abs, making me think she’s goi
ng to push me away but instead, they explore my torso. Her fingers dip in and out of my raised muscle, her fingernails lightly scraping across my sternum causing me to hiss against her mouth. Grinding my aching cock against her core, I can’t resist forcing my tongue in between her lips. Her kiss ignites a fire within me I’ve never felt with a woman before. I need to have her or I might self-combust with frustration.

  Groaning, I start to slide my hand up her inner thigh when I’m tackled to the ground. Avery’s scream sounds from above as a fist connects with my ribs over and over. Snapping into defence mode, I shove the weight off me and roll onto my back. I see Wyatt lunge back towards me, but this time I’m ready. Throwing my elbow into his incoming jaw, I twist to punch him in the chest. Catching his fists in mid-air, I tighten my thighs around his middle and flip him onto his back. Just using my feet and hands, I manage to wrestle Wyatt down and pin his limbs flat against the wooden flooring.

  “You stay the fuck away from her,” he seethes between clenched teeth. His usually styled brown hair is a mess, his green eyes look feral as he bucks and tries to shift me. However, judging by the sluggish movement and smell of alcohol, it would seem Wyatt has been having a pity party for one. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Avery has vanished which is definitely for the best.

  I release my grip on Wyatt’s wrists and quickly hold them up in surrender. He grunts but relaxes, his muscles going slack and he won’t meet my gaze. Standing, I offer my hand to help him up but he slaps it away. I lean against the piano, running a hand over my floppy hair while he gets to his feet.

  “I told you when you first arrived here not to touch her,” he slurs and wags a finger in my face. I cross my arms and wonder just how much my friend has had to drink.

  “Well, actually you said not to fuck her. I figured anything else was fair game,” I smirk, unable to resist. Yep, the asshole is back in full force and I won’t make the mistake of letting my guard down like that again. I don’t know how Avery manages to crawl so deep beneath my skin without even trying but she’s the first to have ever done so. Watching Wyatt cross the room, he grabs a half bottle of Jack Daniels he must have carried in and stalks back to his pool house.

  No longer in the mood for sex, for once, I head back to my own room in the hopes of sleeping, even though I know who the subject of my dreams will be. One thing I have realised tonight though is Avery doesn’t need someone who is as damaged as her. She needs someone who is light-hearted and fun to ease her troubles, and that someone is me. Life’s too short and filled with too many people who will mistreat you, so I will laugh my way through and not give a shit about those I leave behind. It might risk my bromance with Wyatt, but I will no longer deny that I want her.

  Avery

  A hand clamping over my mouth wakes me with a muffled scream. Tightening his grip on the lower half of my face, Wyatt’s green eyes blaze at me from the light of the moon bathing my bedroom through thin, netted curtains. The smell of whiskey on his breath makes me nauseous, playing too close to the recurring nightmare I was just having. I try desperately not to show my fear, but I know my wide eyes are giving me away. My body begins to tremble beneath him as I realise his knees are painfully pinning my arms to the mattress as he straddles my stomach.

  “Why do you keep taunting me with your resilience? Why can’t you just break and bow down to me. After everything you took, it’s the least you could do.” He growls, his forehead pushing forcefully against mine. His lips hover against my cheek, and I’m sure he was about to plant a kiss there before rearing back quickly. I lie statue still, watching the onslaught of emotions that Wyatt seems to be fighting against. Removing his hand from my mouth, he tugs his hair in two tight fists.

  His features switch from sympathy to rage and back to misery so quickly, I think for the first time I feel a new level of genuine fear. I’ve always been scared, but in this moment I’m at the mercy of someone who is plagued with anguish and I can’t judge his next move. The soft light surrounding his frame is direct contrast to the darkness radiating from him, and I’m starting to understand the concept behind having a ‘Shadowed Soul.’

  “You win, Wyatt. I’ll back off.” I whisper, flinching at the cynical chuckle that abruptly fills the room. Staring down at me, he shakes him head.

  “It’s too late now. I thought they loved me. Until you came along and proved I was just a place holder in my own home. The way they treated you was so much….more.” Wyatt turns to look out of the open window, a gentle breeze shifting the curtain aside. “I don’t even know what love is.”

  “Sure you do, the four men in this house proves it.” I continue trying to reach this softer side of him, hoping I can diffuse the situation without coming to harm.

  “I have love for them, but they wouldn’t be with me if it weren’t for their own fucked up pasts. I’m never going to be anyone’s first choice.” Wyatt jumps off me so quickly, I yelp and squeeze my eyes shut to anticipate an attack. The soft click of my door closing sounds, so I slowly look around, worried this is a trick. Finding the space empty, I pull the covers over my head. I came up with this stupid trick as a child, but it sure helps. Puffing the duvet out around my head, I whisper to myself “This is my bubble, no one can hurt me in this bubble.” However, the feeling of safety I’m normally able to find is evading me now when the predator is so close by, prowling somewhere beyond my door.

  I despise feeling weak and I hate Wyatt has the power to send me straight back to being the scared, defenceless girl I’ve tried so hard to leave far behind. My trembling doubles, the situation truly seeping in now that it’s replaying in my mind. For the first time since I arrived in Atlanta, I don’t feel safe. I feel exposed and vulnerable. He’s never going to stop tormenting me.

  Sliding out of my bed, I move towards the bathroom on high alert of the darkly shadowed corners. My breath hitches as I run the last short distance on tip toes, needing to remove myself from the place he’d expect me to be if he returns. Slipping through the door on the opposite end of the bathroom, I brace myself against the wood. Huxley is stretched out of his back, his long limbs covering most of the king size bed. His blonde waves are spread across the pillow like a halo, and in this moment, I need him to be my saviour. A white sheet pools around his crotch, leaving his deeply indented abdomen and broad chest on full show. Slowly sinking myself onto the edge of the mattress, I pinch the edge of the sheet and softly tug it upward as I tuck my feet up. Huxley shifts, mumbling in his sleep.

  “I don’t want to work in a microwave factory.” I lower my head onto his bicep and continue to pull the sheet up to cover my body. I lie perfectly still, pretending to be asleep as I feel Huxley’s weight lift and twist over me. Ever so gently, he pulls on my shoulder so I turn onto my back, his arm beneath my head as I look up into his concerned chocolate brown eyes. “What’s happened?” he asks. My lip quivers and the first tear leaks from my eye. I had expected three possible outcomes from this – he slept through and I escape by morning leaving him none the wiser, he kicked me out or tried to fuck me. But I hadn’t been prepared for him to actually care. I welcome the comfort of his embrace and the safety he’s providing to keep the shadows and nightmares at bay.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I sob, twisting into his chest. Lying back down, Huxley simply holds me, one of his hands smoothing into my hair and the other stroking my arm. My tears soak his sheet until I begin to drift off. My last thoughts of the comforting safety of his warm body and the fact he is purposely avoiding from touching my back.

  ∞∞∞

  I fly into Meg’s arms the second she hops out of her BMW, much to her surprise. She giggles and squeezes me back before looking deeply into my eyes. “Is everything okay?” I nod, shifting away from her intense pale blue stare. Lifting the bag that contains our spontaneous picnic which I’d half placed, half dropped onto the gravel, I walk around the vehicle and place it into the trunk. I’d called Meg about an hour ago, needing to escape the house and those temporarily
residing within.

  I’d woken completely disorientated, with a solid hard-on pushing against my arse through my flimsy cotton shorts. Thankfully, Huxley seems to be a deep sleeper as I managed to extract myself from under his ridiculously heavy thigh and sneak out without him waking. The most worrying part was the temptation to stay and let him pound the worries from my mind for a while. It seems Meg had also needed the excuse to leave judging by Elena’s screams and headboard banging I could hear through the phone.

  “So, where should we go?” she asks, leaning against the car’s rear door.

  “I could give both of you ladies a one-way ticket to penis town?” Garrett offers, stepping out of the main door onto the driveway. I fake a wretch and Meg immediately says ‘Ew’, causing him to frown deeply. I notice he is wearing tan Timberlands similar to Wyatt’s, and a red zip hoodie. Striding towards us, he nudges Meg aside and reaches for the door handle.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, already knowing I’m going to hate his reply. His answering grin fills me with unease as the Nissan rolls up the garage ramp and stills alongside us on the driveway. Huxley leans over a brooding Wyatt to give me an animated thumbs up while Dax and Axel smirk at me from the back seat.

  “We’ve agreed to call a ceasefire, isn’t that right?” Garrett shouts over to Wyatt louder than necessary. Wyatt grips the side of his head, his darkly rimmed eyes closing as he focusses on his breathing. Ha, I hope his bitch of a hangover lasts for weeks.

  “Why would any of you care what we do?” I gesture to Wyatt and myself. Garrett rolls his eyes but its Huxley who answers.

  “Because this shit isn’t going to be fixed anytime soon and it is affecting us all. So come on Rapunzel, where are we going?” My eyes are drawn to Axel, hoping our feud hasn’t been too hard on him since I get the sense he knows exactly what vulnerability feels like.