Deceitfully Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  I didn’t mean to do it. Granted, I didn’t give a shit about some crackhead I’d just met, but I’ve never wished death on anyone. And now she’ll never breathe another breath, see another sunset or have another chance to get clean and sort her life out. All because of me. I was the one to shove too hard and end her life which makes me a cold-blooded murderer. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, no matter how many times Ray praises me.

  Something clutches my shoulder, my hand shooting out to catch the wrist in a tight grip. Rachel’s whimper forces me to open my eyes and shoot to my feet. I slide up her sleeve to check for a mark, despite it being too dark to see properly but needing to check she’s okay anyway.

  “Oh my god, Rachel I’m so sorry.” I babble and fuss over her forearm but instead she takes my hands in hers gently and smiles.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” The worry etched into her face for my wellbeing brings tears to my eyes because I have finally found someone who cares about me the way I need. As soon as the first tear escapes, they all begin to pour out, some invisible dam inside me being breached. Rachel pulls me into her shoulder and holds me while I cry like an infant with a grazed knee, running her hands over my back and stroking my hair. Her sweet scent envelopes me, the fluffy material of her dressing gown brushing against my cheek.

  “I keep seeing her everywhere.” I whisper as my warring emotions start to ease in her presence. “She won’t let me sleep.” Rachel pulls me upright to look into her brown eyes, complete understanding shining in them. She doesn’t need an explanation, nor does she tell me to man up. Just lifts my hand to kiss the back of it and pulls me across the kitchen to a cupboard in the far corner.

  Pulling a key from her large front pocket, she pushes it into a tiny lock in the cupboard I hadn’t noticed before, wedged into the corner. Rising to her tiptoes, she pulls a long box from the middle shelf. The box is split into seven sections, each one with the initial for the day of the week. Flicking open the ‘W’, Rachel picks out two of the small pink vitamins and places them into my palm. As I chuck them into my mouth without hesitating, Rachel reaches up to cup my cheek lovingly, the warmth radiating from her palm allowing my body to finally relax.

  “Let’s get you some warm milk and back to bed. Everything will seem better in the morning, I promise.” Mimicking her smile and nod, I can’t help but believe her. Watching her rounded frame potter around the kitchen, not a single shadowed illusion tries to find me. Soon enough, she is escorting me back to my room with a steaming mug nestled between my hands.

  As I slide beneath my covers, my phone lights brightly on the bedside table. Huffing, I lean over to see yet another WhatsApp from a very persistent Dax asking me to call him urgently. Switching off the screen, I throw the device into the drawer and lean back against the trio of fluffy pillows. Rachel rounds my bed and pulls the phone from the drawer I’ve just slammed closed, frowning at the screen.

  “Why haven’t you answered any of these messages?” she asks, settling onto the mattress beside me. I shrug, sipping my drink and reclining back into the plush pillows. I don’t know why I even bother keeping the damn thing charged since I have no idea what to say if I actually answered any of their constant phone calls. ‘Hey guys, I’m great. Just chilling with hallucinations of a dead mom I just found out about and then accidently killed. How’s life screwing my sister who’s not really my sister?’ No, it’s definitely easier to let them think I’m passed out in a ditch somewhere.

  “Wyatt,” Rachel’s soft voice brings me back from my thoughts. “I don’t get involved in Ray’s plans, but from what I understand, you will be going back home soon. You should reach out to your friends, act natural. That will be the easiest way for you to ease back in to complete your task and come back quicker. I look forward to having you here with us permanently.” Her lips lift in a sad smile, knowing I can’t replace what she’s lost but I’ll be close enough. I’m determined to be enough.

  After leaving the phone by my side and patting me gently on the shoulder, Rachel rises to leave and bids me goodnight. The door clicks shut behind her and I immediately tense, expecting a creepy figure to jump out at me. But the room is still, nothing stirring. Even the clock seems to be ticking softer, the repetitive sound making my eyes heavy. Placing the mug onto the table, I slump onto my side and pull the covers up to my chin.

  Sleep starts to pull me in, a peaceful draw on my conscious thoughts to sink and rest for a while. Images faintly appear in my mind; my brothers lifting me high in the air after scoring the winning point of a basketball match, the insane after parties we would throw where I couldn’t stop laughing. Life was so much simpler when it was just me and them, nothing and no one could come between us. But I’ve seen how protective they are of Avery, it’s like my parents all over again except this time the rejection hurts so much more. I’m an outsider once again, which is why Ray’s proposition sounds so alluring.

  Vibrations by my face jolt me with a snore from the doze I’d drifted into. My phone buzzes repeatedly while I peek through my eyelids and wipe the saliva that had escaped my mouth, creating a wet patch on the pillow. The number is withheld but I can imagine one of the guys is on the other end, trying a different tactic to get me to answer. Now is as good a time as any I suppose, sighing as I answer the call and hold it to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Where the fuck have you been?! I’ve been trying to call you for two days.” I shoot upright, my father’s voice waking me completely like a bucket of ice water has been thrown over my head. “I know you’re not watching Avery as I’d asked. Seriously Wyatt, one simple task. Her life is in danger and you can only think about yourself like usual.” I’m stunned silent for a second, before my eyebrows crease and the anger seeps back in.

  “You care so much about her, you watch her. I’m not a fucking babysitter.” I seethe, wanting to call him out for all the lies so badly but needing to hold my cards close to my chest if I’m going to draw him and Avery here. He sighs loudly, his tone relaxing slightly.

  “I’ve told Avery to leave Brookhaven, it’s not safe for her there. She’s already left to meet me at a safe house, so you’ll have to make your own way here.” Swinging my legs onto the floor, I hunch forward wondering why he cares what I do.

  “Why would I need to go, I’m not in any danger.”

  “I’m not so sure. You have no idea what we are up against, anyone could be a target. I’ll send you one of those password encrypted emails with the location. Tell no one where you are going, you hear?” My eyebrows shoot up as I realise how perfectly this is planning itself out. I have been wondering how to get my father and Avery together, but it seems like that’s happening for me. I can’t wait to tell Ray. “Wyatt! Do you understand the severity of what I’m saying?” His voice shouts at me down the phone making me scowl.

  “Yeah, yeah I get it. Send me the address, I’m on my way.”

  Avery

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, come on Avery, you have to! It’s truth or dare, not truth or if you feel like it.” Garrett whines from the passenger seat, turned all the way round to face me. I cross my arms defiantly and shake my head.

  “There’s no way I’m gonna sit here butt naked for the entire journey. I’ll take a forfeit.” Garrett’s eyes darken and I gulp loudly, wondering if I should have just done the damn dare. Axel whistles low from the driver’s seat, apparently reading my mind.

  “Alright. Flash the next vehicle,” he smirks, pointing at my window. Rolling my eyes, figuring it’s not as bad as it could have been, I shift up onto my knees and lift my top, pushing my breasts against the cold glass. A truck passes, the driver’s eyes popping out of his skull as he hollers and beeps his horn. Cheers fill the Bentley, the boy’s loud whooping drowning out my giggle as I readjust myself into my bra and settle back into the leather seat.

  “Your turn Garrett. Truth or dare.” He replies dare without hesitation, practically bou
ncing in his seat. Looking around the moving car and across the backseat to Dax, who shrugs uselessly at me, I see a Cheeto roll out from under the seat in front. Garrett was sitting here yesterday so it must be one he dropped in between handfuls. Lifting to inspect the orange cheesy stick, there’s hair and fluff stuck around, which makes it perfect. “Eat this,” I lean forward to hand to him.

  Without a second’s hesitation, he throws the chip into his mouth and swallows, making us all gag. “Ew!” I squeal, suddenly very aware I’ve had my tongue in that mouth multiple times and I don’t know what he’s had in there. He smiles widely over to a shuddering Axel, possibly thinking the same, and winks back at me. It’s Dax’s turn to play next apparently, to which he chooses truth.

  “Pussy,” Garrett mutters. “Okay then. What’s your biggest regret in life?” Dax turns his head to stare out the window, staying silent for so long I don’t think he’ll answer.

  “Seeing the most important woman in my life in harm’s way, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He finally says in a tiny voice, Axel’s concerned gaze catching mine in the mirror. Reaching over to grip Dax’s bicep, I pull him over to rest his head in my lap. Bending over, I kiss his forehead and half squish him under my boobs but I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I know a little of Dax’s past, the way his father raised him with his fists but I’m not aware of the current situation on that front. My heart sinks to think of a woman stuck at home with such a man while Dax is here protecting me.

  Stroking his afro through my fingers, we drive in silence for a while until Garrett reaches over to turn up the radio. Dax’s eyes have fluttered shut, giving me a chance to study him close up. His square shaped jaw chiselled from granite, the thick eyelashes fanning his cheeks that any girl would kill for, his skin is a smooth shade of mocha. I don’t drink coffee but I’d take the biggest cup of Dax to go any day of the week. Refocusing on the landscape outside, trying not to picture how gorgeous our babies would be, I find we’ve entered a small town.

  Each building is a different colour, signs hanging from each doorway to show a particular trade. There’s a handful of people on each sidewalk and not many cars on the road, making our Bentley stick out like a nun in a brothel. Heads turn as we pass, children staring at us like aliens.

  Pulling into a deserted gas station, Axel hops out to fill us up. A girl around our age gapes at him through the glass window of the small shop next door, not that I can blame her. Axel’s driving attire consists of no top, his broad chest and washboard abs looking lickable in the sun’s rays, his thick thighs are poking out from his sports shorts and well-defined calves flexing with each movement. The well-rounded attendant that appears from the garage notices too, straightening his posture whilst speaking with Axel in an attempt to look taller. After paying, Axel turns to slide back into the driver’s seat as the man’s beady eyes roam over our vehicle and land on me, rubbing his greasy hands on a dirty rag and licking his lips in a way that makes me cringe.

  “Matey says there’s a diner and the motel we’re looking for on the other side of this town, about 15 minutes’ drive.” Axel says as he restarts the car.

  “Is it wise staying somewhere like this? I mean, we’re a bit noticeable.” I say in a low voice, knowing without looking the attendant’s eyes are following me as we pull back onto the main street. I’ve been trying to supress my worries from Nixon’s phone call but I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched and everyone outside of this car is suddenly a suspect.

  “We can take turns driving if you’d prefer not to stop somewhere tonight,” Axel replies sensing my concerns. But that’s not fair on any of them and I’m sure it’s all in my head.

  “No, no, it’s fine. This is where we agreed to meet Huxley. Besides, I can hear Garrett’s stomach grumbling from here.” I half-laugh, shoving my doubts away for when I can ask Nixon what is actually going on. Driving further down the surprisingly even tarmac road, I slide lower into my seat to avoid the attention we are drawing. Dax begins to stir on my thighs, his afro tickling below my denim shorts.

  “Hey,” I whisper as his blue eyes open, arresting me in a cerulean prison I would gladly receive a life sentence for. A smile takes his face hostage, those full lips close enough to make me blush. The Bentley pulls to a stop, breaking the moment between us as we both sit up to see Huxley resting against his Nissan.

  The motel looms behind him, just as welcoming looking as the last. There’re only six rooms on each level with metallic steps leading to the second floor. The walls probably were a fresh cream when originally painted in the 60s, but now the only hint of colour is of the brick peeking through the peeling, murky exterior. The windows are too dirty too see through and those feelings of trepidation have come back with a vengeance.

  “Already got our keys,” Huxley states as we step out of the car, throwing Garrett and Dax a pair each. Moving to pop the trunk, Huxley removes only my bag and slings it over his shoulder. Dropping his meaty arm around my neck, he begins to pull me away from the others and towards a room tucked away in the corner. “You’re with me.”

  Skidding my feet to a halt, I elbow him in the side and take my bag from him hands forcefully. I may not want to be alone in a place like this, but no one plays a power move like that on me. I belong to nobody and I’ll be damned if any of these guys think they can click their fingers and I’ll come running. Whoever I room with will be my choice, and right now I choose myself.

  Throwing my bag back into the open trunk as Garrett is trying to remove his, I stomp across the car park towards the diner sitting opposite. The elongated building looks like a crumpled tin box dropped from an unfortunate height. I’m 90% sure the windows are Perspex and the bushes planted around the entrance are plastic. A red flashing sign hangs above the doorway, the capital letters reading ‘Mal’s’.

  Gripping the swirly metal handle, I yank the door open and cross the black and white checked flooring to a red booth in the corner. My butt has barely touched the leather when a heavily afroed shadow slides in across from me. Lifting a menu, I hide my face knowing I’ve acted like a brat and probably sent Huxley back into his shell again.

  “Don’t be too hard on Huxley. He’s never cared about a single thing in his life, and now he cares for you and doesn’t know how to handle it.” Dax’s voice travels across the table, using his fingers to lower the laminated card. There’s only understanding in his eyes, a small smile playing around his lips. Garrett lands beside me, knocking me sideways as Axel slides in gently beside Dax.

  “Have you seen the size of the milkshakes they do here?! I’ve ordered us all one, extra cream and marshmallows.” Garrett beams. I can feel the excitement radiating through his bloodstream from here, he’s practically vibrating. Staring out of the window, I watch Huxley pace around the car park, lost in thought. Pulling out my phone, I open the messages and start typing.

  Avery: If you ask me nicely, I will consider your proposal to share a room.

  I see him halt and pull out his phone, gazing at the screen for a while. Apprehension fills me, wondering if he’ll play along or shut me down.

  Huxley: I don’t beg for women to spend a night with me.

  Avery: First time for everything. Humour me.

  The three dots appear and vanish on my screen multiple as he retypes his reply.

  Huxley: Oh, fair maiden, will thee shareth my bed chamber on this night?

  My giggle has Garrett looking over my shoulder and tutting.

  Avery: That wasn’t so hard, was it? I can’t talk like that but sure, sounds good to me.

  Huxley: Neither can I, had to Google a Shakespearean translator. Figured that’s how everyone speaks in the UK.

  My heart lifts and a grin spreads across my face, hopeful our friendship is on the road to recovery. I’ve hated staying away from him but I can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. Axel raises the key to unlock the Bentley through the window as Huxley rounds the vehicle and removes my bag once again, this time successfull
y making it into his room with my belongings. Our milkshakes arrive in tall sundae glasses, each one a different flavour. Garrett snatched the chocolate one with extra sprinkles, which I’m sure isn’t a coincidence, as I reach over for the banana one.

  The sun has set by the time we leave the diner, Garrett having sampled one of everything they have to offer. The waitress nearly died at his generous tip though (no innuendo intended), so I’m sure they didn’t mind too much. Clutching a Styrofoam container for Huxley, I knock on the door to his room. Appearing in the doorway, he looks haggard with dark creases beneath his brown eyes. His lips hook up in a lame attempt at a smile, stepping aside the let me enter.

  “When’s the last time you slept?” I ask, although the question goes unanswered. Pushing the container into his hands, Huxley flips open the lip to glance at the club sandwich and chips inside. Sitting on the edge of the double bed in the centre of the room, I stare at him expectantly until he lowers himself into a metal chair at the matching table and begins to peck at it. I wait a whole ten minutes before moving to join him, eating the other half of the sandwich he’s started pushing around the box. Baby steps are better than nothing. Huxley fails to suppress a yawn so I point for him to go to bed. Standing, he removes his t-shirt and tracksuit pants to place them in a nearly folded pile on the chair he’s vacated. I have to force myself to keep chewing, saliva filling my mouth for a whole different reason.

  Huxley has lost quite a few pounds lately, but that’s hasn’t diminished his ripped abs and firm chest. The rounded pink scar above his heart is visible in the room’s overly orange lighting, the Samurai scene tattooed against his back standing out boldly as he turns. The piece has jumped straight out of a cartoon strip, exaggerated clashing symbols surrounding a huge sword that the central character is holding. Stripping to my own underwear and crawling into the bed beside him, his furnace-like warmth seeps into me. Cuddling into his side with his chunky arm beneath my head, I breathe in Huxley’s manly scent.