Vibe

by Liza James

  I quickly reach for it, my fingers scratching across the floor while I pull myself towards it. When I finally have it in my tight hold, I use every ounce of strength I can pull in order to stand on my feet. Everything sways around me, the dizzy sensation amplifying the nausea while I step towards them.

  But I can hear it, hell I can fucking feel it in my own flesh as Dom forces his way inside of Aura. She cries out, scrambling to get away from him while he holds her against the ground. Her hair is tangled through his fingers, another tether he has in forcing her body to bend to his will.

  I can't fucking take it, I dart forward with every bit of anger and rage crashing to the forefront of my mind. I let it infect me, poisoning my actions, my limbs, my fucking thoughts as I move before considering what I'm doing.

  The knife is in my hand, pointed towards him as I fall against his heavy body. We both roll to the side, his fingers gripping my wrist in order to stop the knife's trajectory.

  But it's too late. I can feel the sharp point as it pierces his taut flesh. It breaks through the skin on his lower stomach, and I don't stop until I feel the hilt pressed tightly against his body. He yells, clutching his side as I yank the knife free and move to stab him a second time. But now he's expecting it, and he shifts away from me just in time to avoid the second injury.

  "Stay the fuck away from us," I scream, feeling my own spit spew from my mouth as the words finally lodge themselves free of my throat. I'm bleeding, and Dom is clutching his side as he struggles to stand and gain his footing. Shifting so that I'm in front of Aura's naked form collapsed on the ground, I hold the knife in front of me again. My hand trembles, but it's from the rage electrifying my body rather than the fear I was once experiencing.

  I'm not fucking afraid of him. He's human, just like the rest of us. I can pierce his skin, break his bones in the same ways he has mine.

  "You're going to regret this," he bites out as he steps back and reaches for his dress shirt. He quickly throws it over his shoulders, wrapping it around his waist while he rushes out the door and slams it behind him.

  As soon as we're alone, I whip my head around to find Aura, huddled against the back wall with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Her head is buried in her knees while she cries, her back shifts in rapid heaves while she tries to catch her breath.

  "Aura," I whisper as I crawl towards her, reaching my hand out in order to pull her against me. But immediately, her own hand is pressed against my chest, briefly holding me back while she lifts her head and her red rimmed eyes meet my own. She searches me frantically, her gaze on fire with so much emotion I can't seem to sort through it.

  Her fingers suddenly fist the front of my shirt and she's dragging me against her in a desperation that I can feel billow between us. It's in my own actions as I rush towards her, my hands as they wildly grip her face and force her to look at me. "I'm sorry," I say, leaning down and pressing my forehead against hers. Her skin is white, an ashen representation of what we just went through.

  "Not you—" she starts, her tone wavering in a sobs as she tries to speak. I don't know what she's saying, but I'm immediately shifting to the side and leaning against the wall so that I can drag her against me. I wrap both of my arms around her trembling body, my weakened form doing everything I can in order to shield her.

  I failed to keep her safe.

  I don't know if I'll ever be able to get past that.

  "Not you. You didn't know, right? About The Nation?" she asks in rushed intervals as she cries. Her fingers tighten through the fabric of my shirt as she clings to me. It's like she needs to be inside of me, crawling into my mind, my soul in order to find herself again.

  I only know because I feel the same way. I need her energy to intoxicate me. I need to feel her body and heartbeat against my own to know we're alive, we're together.

  "No. I promise, I had no idea," I immediately say. Of course she would wonder if I've known this entire time. God, if I was a part of her fucking past without her even realizing it…

  I can't even imagine what she thought before I showed up here. When Dom was free to manipulate and destroy her mind with his own truth.

  "Not you," she whispers again, this time tilting her head up on my chest to meet my eyes. I brush my thumb along her cheek, swiping the tears that are still falling from her eyes while her fingers flex in my shirt and she snuggles in closer to me.

  "Not me, never me," I reply, leaning down to gently press my lips against hers. She lets me, and slowly unfreezes enough to kiss me back. Fuck, I'm glad she's still here. Still in this enough to be with me. I'll always fight for her, and I think that in this moment where our fears were plastered right in front of our faces, we've learned to cling to each other.

  Always fighting for each other.

  Even in fear. Even in chaos.

  Always each other.

  Everything hurts. My head, my legs, my neck. Fuck, even my skin.

  I feel like ants have burrowed underneath my flesh, squirming and racing in search of something I can't place my finger on.

  It just feels like I can't settle down. I can't catch a full, solid breath.

  And fuck, I need her. Ruby. I need to feel her, to sink into the consistent sound of her breaths against my skin. I need to know she wasn't a part of everything I've been afraid of.

  She can't be.

  She's always been my freedom. When I've been tied down, chained by fear of retaliation and the idea that I'll never be enough, she's the one who reminded me that I was so much more than my past.

  She's the one who shoved me off the ledge when I needed it. She makes me realize that I've never been a wildflower. I've never been fragile or weak.

  I’m not a victim.

  "Tell me what you're thinking." Ruby's voice breaks through the thickened silence of the car. I'm riding with her, back to her apartment in Brooklyn. I'm huddled in a big sweatshirt that Calypso lent me, and a pair of sweatpants that Ruby had stashed at the club.

  I just want to hide.

  "That I don't want to be here," I say quietly, my eyes focused out the window as we drive through the busy streets. Even this late at night, and in the heavy rain no less, the streets are crowded.

  "Here? As in coming home with me?" Ruby asks. I can tell she's forcing herself to sound calm, relaxed. She's trying to be the rock in this situation, allowing me to lean on her if I need it.

  But I almost don't want to. Not in the way she thinks I would need.

  I’m craving connection after a moment of complete and utter detachment.

  "Home," I repeat her words, my voice barely a whisper. She glances over to me and then back out the window, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth for a moment before releasing it with a subtle pop. "I thought my home was with Hawk and Bethie."

  "Is that where you want your home to be?" She's hesitant, a tiny shred of worry lacing her tone as she asks the question.

  This is hard for us. Dom, Hawk, Bethie, Malin. All of them have hurt us in different ways. All of them playing crucial roles in our lives. Seemingly important, assumedly loyal.

  I pause in answering, considering the weight of what that question actually means.

  Do you want me?

  I turn my eyes to her, shifting in the seat so that I can lean my head back against the window while I continue watching her drive. "No," I say quietly. Honestly. "It's never felt like a real home. But I'm not sure I've ever had that."

  I reach forward, slipping my fingers against her thigh and I hear her release a heavy sigh. Her shoulders slump forward and a single tear slides down her check as she blinks it away.

  "I should have done things differently," she responds, her voice an unwavering tether of quiet regret. I can see it in the way her teeth grit together and her fingers flex around the steering wheel. "I shouldn't have gotten involved with you from the very beginning. I knew any weakness would be a key for Dom to exploit."

  "You can't make decisions based on his poison." The response is simple
, and not one I think may have said earlier. When I was the one questioning everything against Malin. But now that I'm here, and I'm the one on the other side—I see things differently.

  "I could have saved you by staying the fuck away from you."

  "And what if I'm tired of being saved? What if I want to start saving myself?" I say, my voice gaining volume as I feel the heat rise in the pit of my stomach. All the emotion, all the fears, all the potential regrets are eating at me now. A storm is building in my body and working through me until it crests in thunder and lightning across my mind.

  "Then you can save yourself. And you won't need me." Her words are laced with anger, her knuckles turning white against the steering wheel as she takes a sharp left and veers into a small parking lot nestled at the base of a tall brick building.

  It pisses me off, her dismissive tone and rejection.

  "Fuck you for saying something like that."

  "Saying what? I'm giving you what you've always wanted—a way out. You're strong, Aura. You can save yourself and you don't need me. The farther away you run, the less I'll have to worry about Dom getting his hands on you again. The less of a target you'll be." Ruby opens her car door without waiting for a response and steps out, slamming the door behind her.

  Is she fucking kidding? Did she not hear a word Dom was saying earlier?

  "Are you listening to yourself? You know that isn't true. Dom is with The Nation. He'll be after me whether you're around or not." I hurry out and after her as she stalks towards the large black door that enters into her apartment complex. But just as she's keying in the code to unlock it, the door flies open and a fiery red head rushes out. She runs straight into Ruby, who stumbles back and into me. My hands fly forward, catching both Ruby and the redhead as they regain their footing.

  "Fuck, so sorry," she says as her head tilts up and she meets Ruby's eyes.

  "Stella?" Ruby asks, halting for a moment before she throws her arms around the beautiful woman and pulls her into an embrace. "Where the fuck have you been?" I can't help the immediate flash of jealousy that lingers inside of me, but it's quickly tamped down when a much larger, incredibly attractive man steps out of the building behind her.

  Stella steps back, and the man with messy blonde hair wraps a possessive arm around her waist and tugs her against his chest. Fuck, they're both stunning. She's wearing a pair of tight leather pants that cuff just below her knees. A set of high, navy blue heels that strap up to her lower calves and match seamlessly with the navy blue body suit tucked into her pants. Her hair is wild, flowing chaotically around her shoulders in waves of red.

  The man behind her is wearing a suit, navy blue as well, and one that clearly intentionally matches her own outfit. But his white dress shirt is unbuttoned several spaces down his chest, pulled wide across his tight muscles while his arms flex and move against Stella.

  They're perfect, and it's evident in their eyes how much they're obsessed with each other.

  "I'm so sorry, I've been gone for a while now. But I still have this place when we want to," she pauses, seeming to carefully choose her words, "escape from everything for a bit. No one knows I still have the apartment, so it's our little hideaway."

  "Shit, and you dumped that last guy? I have to say, this one is a definite upgrade." Ruby's tone is playful, but an immediate scowl pulls at the man's face and I can't help but notice the low growl slipping from his lips.

  Stella's scoffs, an unreadable look crossing her features briefly, but her fingers slide through the man's hand and she pulls him tighter against her. "Yeah, the last one is definitely gone. This is Nathanial. My fiancé." She nods back to the guy holding her, and he leans down and presses a hard kiss against the side of her head. Her face lights up, literally. A glow that pours out of her at his touch and his embrace.

  It's magical.

  "I better be a fucking upgrade from that piece of shit," he mutters under his breath, but we all hear it and break out in laughter, just as Stella steps forward and pulls Nathanial behind her.

  "We have to go. We have a meeting we're rushing off to, but it's so good seeing you, Ruby. I hope you're doing well." Stella's eyes dance between myself and Ruby's, a clear question on her cocked eyebrows and smirk pulling at her lips.

  "It's good seeing you too, hopefully we'll be able to catch up sometime soon," Ruby calls after them and then turns back to the door as she pulls me inside after her.

  The hallway is dark, dim fluorescent lights cast shadows across the walls. It's not the worst place I've ever seen, but it's not in great shape either. The wallpaper peels in small places, and there’s a flashing light that's consistently ticking while it struggles to maintain a steady glow. But Ruby turns up the staircase to our left and begins climbing as I follow suit.

  "She used to come to the club a lot—if you’re wondering who she is. She hasn’t been around in a while though. We’re neighbors in the building, but she hasn’t been here either.” Ruby addresses the tension that lingers between us, or the silent question that tugs at my mind. I can’t help but be curious of their history. I nod, choosing to avoid any sort of potential jealousy. It’s clear that whatever they have is completely platonic, and Stella and Nathanial seemed like a fiery couple. I wouldn’t mind getting to know them.

  “I'm on the third floor," she says quietly, ignoring my gaze as I continue taking in the space around me. I don't actually care where she lives, or what it looks like, as long as it's safe.

  Especially with both Dom and Malin potentially in the shadows.

  She doesn't speak another word until we're in front of her door—number 7C. The wooden frame is splintered in few places, and for a moment, I worry that it's because someone has tried getting into her apartment. But she doesn't seem phased in the slightest over the markings, so I choose to let it go and trust her.

  When we step inside though, it's a complete difference from what was on the outside. In here, she's clearly worked her ass off to make it her own. The walls are a bright white, with one small black accent wall on the far left. That's where she's hung her TV, as well as several small shelves housing countless books and little candles.

  I step in ahead of her and drop my leather bag on the hard wood floor near the door. I’m consumed by the idea of being in her space. Her sanctuary. I want to experience what makes her feel safe, what makes her comfortable.

  I walk ahead, taking note of the white suede couch that sets in front of the television. She has little statues of fable creatures lining a few of the opposing shelves on the opposite wall. I lean over, realizing most of them are gargoyles.

  "Gargoyles?" I ask, wondering if she has a reason toward her preference of those. I look back to her, finding her leaning against the wall near the door. One hand rests against her hip while the other is rubbing the back of her neck.

  "Legend says they come to life at night in order to ward off evil. They communicate through nature, specifically wind and water when it passes through their mouths. I figure I've done a lot of shitty things in my life, wouldn't hurt to have a little extra protection." She speaks as if she's joking, but there's a part of me that thinks she seriously believes they help. "In all the years I've been here, and worked at the club, Dom has never come to this place."

  Strangely, I love that. This little peek into her intimate life that I wouldn't have known otherwise. She's opening up, even while she's shutting down and pushing me away.

  I continuing observing her space, noticing several other random objects that rest on shelves, little side tables, the odd placement of a heel and a hammer? It doesn’t make sense, so I look to her again, raising my eyebrows in question.

  She sighs, seemingly annoyed but I know she isn’t—she’s trying to work through her own emotions. “I keep them…momentos of douche bags who have tried to screw with me. That heel is from some asshole who broke into the club and smashed my mirror with it. I like to remember the people who’ve tried to fuck me over and failed.”

  She turns around,
ending our conversation as she walks away. But I follow, coming up on her heel as I confront the conversation we were having in the car. "You're not running away from me," I call out, my voice raising slightly as she throws open a door and we step into what I'm assuming is her room.

  In here, the walls are black. All of them, but her furniture and accents are all white. She's got a large, king-sized bed that sits high on a platform. Big, bright white sheets and a thick comforter hang over the edges and cascades to the floor. Her walls are decorated in vintage band posters, countless of them span the small space and I notice the small record player that sits in the corner of her room as well. There's a wide row of records nestled into a small bookshelf setting next to it and I'm eager to explore the music she likes to listen to while she's alone.

  But my eyes are suddenly drawn to the corner of her room, where several hanging plants are strewn about the ceiling. I step towards them, recognizing each one as something I love. Ones I have in the space I shared with Hawk as well. I love them, and I look to her as I run a finger along one of the leaves. "You like plants?"

  "It's a recent discovery I've fallen in love with," she says quietly. My heart thunders in my chest at her words. I can't help but hope that she's referring to something else. Or picked up the hobby after seeing my own love for them when she came to my apartment.

  "You're not running away from me," I repeat the words and step towards her, abandoning the plant while I take in her appearance. She's leaning back against the wall next to her bed. She's tired, and in pain. Her long black hair is a mess around her shoulders, hanging nearly to the small of her back even while she has it pulled forward and across one shoulder.

  I can see a small dislocation of bruises across the base of her jaw, but the biggest injury is clearly to her head. Blood has dried and crusted along her temple and cheek, where a deeper, more colorful bruise is now blooming along the side of her face.

  God, I've been so lost in my own pain, in my own racing thoughts that I didn't realize everything she went through as well while we were in that room. Blood stains her hands after she attacked Dom, and in the darkness of her room, in the secrecy of her home, I can admit to myself that I love it—the blood, the bravery, the independence she constantly radiates.