Deceitfully Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  Soon I’ll have a family. Soon I’ll belong.

  Avery

  Watching multiple rooms at once via the laptop screen, Meg lifts the landline to call Elena. The panic room she told me about isn’t as high tech and futuristic as I had imagined, but it’s still pretty cool. The best part was seeing Wyatt’s face via a secret camera, completely dumbfounded as to where we had gone. I’m so glad Nixon hadn’t told him about this place so Meg and I can have a private oasis when he’s being a dick – which seems almost permanent as this point.

  Glancing over at the bunk beds, I wonder if Nixon created this room with us in mind for the inevitable day his past caught up with him. There’s enough bottled water and preserved food in the cupboards to last us around a week if we ration, which is a slightly scary thought. Hopefully the only reason we will need to venture in here is to wind up the moody Myrtle that’s now left the house.

  Pulling my attention back to the screen, I see Dax in his room running through some drills with the bed pushed aside. Currently doing push ups, his biceps are bulging and shoulder blades shifting beneath a vest. Biting my lip, I flick my eyes onto the next window to see Garrett and Axel making out on their bed. Hands are roaming freely on top of their clothes. Heat rushes to my neck and cheeks, not knowing which camera to focus on so I minimize them both.

  “Love you too mom, speak soon.” Meg returns the receiver to its chunky white base and gestures towards the screen. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and them?” She crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bottom bunk, giving me her undivided and very much unwanted attention.

  “What do you mean?” I avoid her gaze, hoping my face will pale to its usual alabaster colour if I ignore her probing questions. The quirk of her eyebrow tells me she won’t drop the conversation until I spill. “Okay fine. I may have slept with Garrett and Axel… twice. Dax is-” I demonstrate my mind blowing up with my hands and added sound effects, “but we haven’t gone further than kissing, and touching.” Throwing my head into my hands, I groan at how bad it sounds out loud.

  “Both Garrett and Axel, twice? What, are they keeping score?”

  “No, I mean together. They are kinda a package deal.” She sniggers at the word package and I roll my eyes. Moving to sit beside her, I lean my head onto her shoulder and sigh loudly.

  “Fair play. I get the other two but I am surprised about Garrett to be honest. You usually avoid the loud, self-absorbed guys like him.” She’s not wrong; at frat parties I would steer well clear of the jocks. Their booming laughs and hoards of woman hanging off their every word. I had pegged Garrett as the same originally, but he’s become a vital part of my life lately, bringing a smile to my face every time he enters a room.

  “Trust me, I know he’s not the easiest to live with sometimes, but at least with Garrett, I know exactly where I stand. There’s no bullshit or expectations. He and Axel help me escape when the stress builds up too much, that’s all.” Nodding against my hair, Meg places a kiss on my head and tells me to be careful, which I understand to be on a medical and emotional front. Not that she has to worry about either, I have the implant and whilst I may care for each of the guys downstairs, my heart isn’t something I could ever offer. It’s barely glued back together enough to beat properly, never mind to present to another willingly.

  Deciding the coast is clear, we exit the hidden room and push the door back to click into place. After agreeing to meet Meg downstairs shortly to help prepare dinner, I stride for the second staircase towards our room to grab a hoodie.

  Passing the middle door along the corridor, a low groan barely registers with my ears. Freezing in place, I wait for any other sounds but only silence follows. Yet a niggling within tells me something is wrong. Slowly twisting the rounded handle, I crack the door open a tiny bit to peer inside. Everything is dark, only a tiny slither of the moon’s light allowing me to see the perfectly made bed and tidy space inside. Huxley’s denim jacket lies over the back of a wooden chair, his white and blue Air Jordans tucked beneath the matching desk. Pushing my head further into the room, I notice a shine bleeding out from beneath the bathroom door.

  Tiptoeing across the space, I press my ear against the timber separating us. Everything inside is silent. Knocking softly, I wait a second before entering the room. Huxley’s head is leaning back against the bathtub, his damp blonde hair falling over the rim. Each of his legs are hanging loosely over each side, giving me a full view of his junk. Edging closer when he doesn’t open his eyes, I realise his skin is a bright shade of red and sweat is covering his face.

  “Huxley?” I whisper, giving his arm a nudge. The limb falls lifelessly into the water with a splash, panic seizing me. Grabbing his face in my hands, I shout his name and give him a rough shake. His eyelids crack open ever so slightly, but his brown eyes remain unfocussed. “Fuck. Huxley, have you taken anything?” I ask but his only response is a twitch of his lips. Glancing around, I don’t find evidence of empty pill bottles or anything suspicious so I’m going to hazard a guess that he’s dehydrated. Whipping the plug out, I leave the bath to drain while I run back into his room. After turning the fan on and directing it towards the bed, I return to the bathroom and fill a cup on the side of the sink with cold water.

  “Drink,” I order, lifting Huxley’s head forward and pushing the cup against his lips. He flinches as the cold-water splashes over his chin and chest, the moment rousing him enough to take a few sips. He groans as his head lolls back so I place the cup on the back of the toilet and grab a towel from the overhead shelf. Now the water has fully drained from the tub, I throw the towel over his mid-section to cover his modesty. Leaning over him, I pull his meaty arm over my shoulders and wiggle my hands beneath his bulky body.

  “Huxley, I need you to help me here.” I say whilst giving him a rough shove. He gasps and mumbles incoherently, but his hand grips my back which is enough for me. After counting down 3, 2, 1 – mostly for myself, I heave with all my strength to lift him slightly. His body rises enough to greet mine and his head flops onto my shoulder, his wet hair soaking through my t-shirt. Huxley starts to shake his head with a small whine, but I refuse to let go of him now.

  Gripping his other arm and throwing it around my waist, I urge him to hold on and I heave upwards again. Rising to his knees, I feel him start to slip back into unconsciousness, so I give the back of his head a smack. “Stay with me, you heavy sack of shit,” I grumble into his ear. Using my shoulder in his chest, I push him upright with all my might until he is semi upright. The towel becomes trapped between us as he leans onto me. “Okay, one foot,” I say, pulling him forward so his left leg flops out of the bath. Stepping back with him, Huxley’s other leg starts to lift over the rim and eventually slaps onto the cream mat on the floor.

  His weight is crippling but I force us to move across the room, his body trembling with each step. Nearing the door, I feel the second Huxley zones out again just before his legs give out from beneath him. A scream escapes me as he topples down, his weight doubling over my shoulders. Dragging us both at a snail’s pace, I make it to the open door and push our way into his bedroom. My own knees are beginning to buckle but I persevere, half throwing his floppy frame onto the mattress as I reach the foot of the bed.

  His top half lands safely, his legs hanging widely over the edge. After rearranging the towel and tucking it either side of his waist, I move the fan onto him and retrieve the cup of water. After a few attempts to rouse him, I change tactic and move across the bed. Peeling his head and shoulders up, I use my body to stop him from sagging back down and force him to drink at least half of the water I’m pushing against his lips from behind. After I’m satisfied he’s beginning to cool down, his face returning to its usual beige colour, I leave him to rest against my front.

  Combing his hair back with my fingers, droplets fly over my top but I don’t care. I had thought if I pulled away from Huxley, he might start to take care of himself a little more but clearly, that’s n
ot true. I can’t be with him all the time to monitor him, and not just because I’m torn between being with Meg or worrying about Wyatt. For my own sanity, I can’t help him in the way he needs. Huxley’s lost to a turbulent sea of his own making, only he can build a raft and find his way back. Stirring, his head shifts as he glances around the darkened room while I continue to stroke his hair. He groans as he pushes himself upright so I use my hands against his back to help him.

  “You can run off and tell everyone how messed up I am now.” His voice reaches me in a harsh tone. Passing his lack of appreciation off as embarrassment, I shuffle forward and hook my legs around his waist. Leaning my face against his back, I slip my hands around to hold his biceps.

  “It’s not my business to tell.” I state, remaining in place to support him. Gradually, Huxley’s frame starts to relax and he shifts further up the bed. Crawling across the sheets with him, we sit together in the dark, propped up by his pillows. I miss the pig-headed guy that claimed my bathroom the day he arrived in my life, who threw me in the pool and took me on my first ever date. The mischievous light to his eyes and cheeky smile are a distant memory these days.

  But there’s nothing else I can do or say, recovering has to be his choice. He needs to find a reason to rise from the darkness he’s trapped himself in and it can’t be me. On the outside, I may appear carefree and confident, but internally I have my own shit to deal with every damn day. In fact, everyone in this house does.

  “Are you going to start eating again now?” I ask softly, feeling like I’m about to poke the beast. Huxley doesn’t react, just sits beside me statue still.

  “I can’t enjoy anything anymore, food included. I just feel numb inside. Nothing’s the same as it was.” His voice is barely a whisper, his shoulders tensing like that confession caused him physical pain. I chance a look up at his face, his strong jaw is clenched and chocolate eyes glazed over.

  “Allow time to find yourself again. One day you’ll wake up and the sun will seem a little brighter or juice will taste a little sweeter. But in the meantime, promise me you’ll try to eat properly.”

  “For you, I will try.” His chest rises and falls on a large breath, his fingers moving to link with mine.

  “No, not for me. I won’t always be around. You need to do this for you or it won’t work. You’re special and funny, you light up every room and the guys out there love you like a brother. That’s the Huxley you need to hold onto.”

  Meg

  Two large saucepans of spaghetti begin to boil as I endlessly rotate meatballs until cooked through, removing them and starting on the next batch. Cooking for seven wasn’t what I had envisioned this evening but Avery must had got held up shaving Axel’s hair or something. The back-door crashes open, a dripping wet Wyatt trudging through with his jeans in his hand leaving a soggy line behind him like a snail. His polo shirt is clinging to his body, indenting around each muscle. My eyes drift to his rounded thighs, rippling with each step beneath tight black boxers which are bunched up higher than usual.

  “The water’s meant to stay in the sea,” I put on my best bitchy tone, dragging my eyes from his body to the puddles on the kitchen floor. He doesn’t break his stride, crossing the living room.

  “And my organs need to stay inside my body, so I won’t be eating any of your cooking.” He shouts back from the stairs. My spaghetti starts to bubble violently, water escaping over the lip of the pan while the blackening meatballs spit at me with venom. Touché.

  “Woah, here let me help.” Axel runs up behind me, his hand brushing mine as he takes the tongs from my grip. Leaning over my shoulder, I stand for a second too long in the warmth of his body. Risking a look up, his sharp jaw and high cheekbones are slack, his unique amber eyes completely focused on rescuing the dinner. He is stunning, his shaved head adding a powerful edge to his beauty. Extracting myself, I find Garrett leaning against the fridge with an amused look on his face. “Like what you see, Megster?”

  “I did before I turned around,” I jest, pushing him back a step so I can retrieve the hidden cheese from the fridge. His booming laughter fills the space as he shifts behind me, trapping me between his body and the appliance. Dipping his head to my ear, he runs his tongue up my lobe and around the curved shell causing me to shudder. I should shove him away or elbow him or something, but all I can focus on is how hard my nipples are growing from a mix of lust and the refrigerator’s cool air.

  “If you want a piece of Axel, you get a slice of me as well.” Grinding against my ass for good measure, he reaches over to pluck the cheese from my grip and steps away. If it weren’t for the frigid temperature levelling me out, I’d have been panting like a dog in heat. Garrett has moved to grate beside his lover, the picture of calm while I collect my dignity and force my jelly legs to walk straight to find a mop. It’s definitely been too long since I last got laid, I’ve never been so easy to fluster.

  Avery appears as I finish cleaning up Wyatt’s mess, which I can see becoming a common chore. I can’t believe I had a crush on that guy, why do I always choose the bad ones? She skids a little on the drying floor, using me as a pillar to right herself. “I’m so sorry, I got a bit caught up with something.”

  “Or someone,” I murmur without a shred of judgement. I mean seriously, who can blame her? Her confidence has come along wonders recently. Besides, once this is all over and they go back to college, she’ll be home schooled alone again. Let the girl live a little.

  Dax arrives in time to help serve dinner, my eyebrows bopping as I put two and two together. Sliding onto the black leather padding of a dining chair, Avery sits beside me for us to be waited on. Axel’s managed to save my bolognese and magically produce rows of garlic baguettes, the strong smell making my mouth water. Setting the plates in front of us, I dig straight in while the guys carry theirs over. Garrett’s is a cheese covered mountain which he attacks like a caveman. I don’t want to watch the meatball massacre, but I struggle to look away.

  “How are you not morbidly obese?” I have to ask, he’s basically an anomaly who should be studied by scientists. They could make a whole TV series tracking his everyday habits.

  “I train in basketball six hours a day, thirty-three weeks a year,” he muffles though a wall of spaghetti hanging from his mouth. Sucking them up and swallowing, he grins at me. “So, during the holidays, I let myself pig out. But looks like you have quite the appetite too, Megatron.” Rolling my eyes at his wink, I glance over to check if Axel isn’t bothered by his flirty comments. Fully invested in his meal, he doesn’t seem to even be listening.

  “So much for lady and the tramp, I wonder which ones which.” I gesture to the two of them with my fork, Avery laughing behind her hand. Shrugging, Garrett shoves another meatball into his mouth.

  “Some people go on dates and share strands of spaghetti; we host parties and share women.” His cheeks bulge like a hamster hoarding food as he smiles, nudging Axel with his elbow to agree.

  “Hah! We all know dating and sharing will never be your speciality. Too much effort.” Axel chuckles, missing the way Garrett’s eyebrows crease slightly at the comment. Movement on the stairs halts any further banter about their strange dynamic, Huxley appearing on the edge of the kitchen. Avery jumps up to dish him a small plate and summons him to take a seat next to her. Crossing the room cautiously, his skin looks red and blotchy with bags so dark under his eyes, it looks like he has two black eyes.

  The rest of the meal is spent in silence, everyone seeming on edge with Huxley’s presence. Opposite, Dax’s afro shifts comically with his chewing, providing me with a secret entertainment. I finish first, pushing my chair back and taking Avery’s plate as soon as she’s speared the last meatball. Placing them on the counter, Dax sweeps in from behind to fill the sink with steaming hot water. Smirking at me, he takes the crockery and proceeds to wash up.

  “Let’s head to bed, I’m exhausted,” Avery reaches for my hand and pulls me away. On cue, a yawn grips me, my mouth stret
ching into a large O. Leading me up the two flights of stairs to the room we share on the top level, I kick the door closed and hunt for a baggy t-shirt to sleep in. Avery disappears into the bathroom, returning a minute later in her teal silky vest and shorts. Throwing her hair into a messy bun, she slides into the bed from the left as if we were back at the mansion. Having donned a thin t-shirt, I peel my jeans off and slip in next to her.

  The mattress welcomes me back into its memory foam embrace, the dent of my body starting to take hold. Pushing my arm under the pillow, Avery snuggles in closer and links her fingers with my free hand. “Nightie, nightie,” she breathes, sleep already pulling her consciousness away from me.

  “Pyjama, pyjama Aves.”

  ∞∞∞

  “What shall we do?” I moan, torrential rain hammering on the windows and trapping us inside. Crossing my legs on the bed, I watch Avery pace around in dark grey yoga pants and a loose workout vest, tapping her finger on her chin. It’s not like we had many more options even if the sun was shining, but the gloomy clouds covering the sky are depressing the shit out of me.

  Throwing myself back onto the mattress, I moan loudly trying to block out the images out what I could be doing right now if I were back home. A gentle stroll past Starbucks on my way to lacrosse practice, or some window shopping with Avery. I’d kill for some fast food and wine.

  Avery’s sharp intake of breath has me pushing up to my elbows to stare at her with a question mark etched into my eyebrows. “I’ve got an idea! Hang on,” she beams, darting into the bathroom. Sitting upright, I watch her return holding a bottle of talcum powder like a trophy. “Follow me.”

  A short while later, we are sitting on the living room sofa with the biggest grins that could fit on our faces. My hair is dripping, a sprinkled pattern of raindrops covering my college sweatshirt, but it was totally worth it. The wait is almost agonising, my foot twitching impatiently until there’s finally footsteps thumping down the stairs.