Constant - Chapter Seven
I'm vaguely aware that someone is trying to wake me up, but I know that if I open my eyes I will be assaulted with the cruelty that is daylight, and the headache already present will intensify. I really need to stop drinking so much.
“Nennie. Nennie! Gotta feed da pigs!” Jax. Oh Jax. Please stop. Let me sleep. “Nennie!”
I groan. “Okay, okay. I’m getting up.” I don’t want to get up. Or move. Even breathing seems like too much work. I hate pigs. I sigh, loudly and continue, “Go help Becky with breakfast.” Anything to stop the noise. I love that boy. More than anything, I really do. But if he keeps talking I might die.
He leaves without another word, but of course he slams the door behind him. That’s it. I’ve decided. I am dying. Right here, right now, this is it. My bed is moving. Why is my bed moving? I feel like this may be a bad sign. Clearly I’m worse off than I thought. But then my bed makes a noise. Since when does my bed talk? Oh that’s right. I’m laying on top of a person, not my comfy mattress. Wait. I’m clothed, right? Yes. Good. That would be awkward. Especially since a three-year old was just in here.
I flash back to the last time I woke up with a hangover, next to a warm body. Nope. Nope. I am not thinking about that. Him. I will not give him the satisfaction, not even if this is just all in my head. My bed moves again. I tilt my face upwards and crack open an eyelid. Oh. It’s just Chris. That’s right. We were talking last night. And by talking I mean consuming a bottle of Jack Daniels. That explains things. And why my mouth is disgusting. I need to brush my teeth. And shower. And find a dark hole to hide out in until this pounding inside my head stops. Today is not going to go well.
I roll off of Chris and the couch, directly onto the cold tile floor. Walking sounds absurd. Actually, being upright sounds absurd. I can take a shower while sitting down, right? Either way, I’m going to find out. I crawl the ten or so feet over to the bathroom door and push myself inside, shutting the door. Darkness. Yes. I can handle this. After starting the water I set about undressing, which is about as bracing as it sounds. The stiffness of drunkenly sleeping on top of someone else, paired with my injuries from three, has it really only been three days?, days ago, has made my body fairly feeble. I’m starting to think that dying on that conch might have been the way to go.
Somehow, and that’s a big somehow, I manage to clean myself up enough so that I can at least walk in a straight line, somewhat gracefully. Now my issue is new clothing. I didn’t bring any in here with me, and if I remember correctly, my refugees are in my bedroom. So I can either put on my old clothes, not going to happen, or walk into my occupied room in nothing but a towel. Embarrassment it is then. Maybe they’re not even in there anymore. There’s no saying how long I slept. Hey. I slept. And I didn’t wake up thrashing from nightmares. That’s progress.
I open the bathroom door and take a peek. No one, except for Chris who’s still passed out on the couch. I check the towel I’ve wrapped around myself, making sure it won’t fall, and take a step outside. Creeping towards my bedroom door, I plan out my moves. I know exactly what I’m grabbing and where they are. I’ll be in and out without them even noti—
They locked the door. Of course they locked the door. Why wouldn’t they? I mean, we could be murderous psychos, intent on offing them as soon as they let their guard down. Yeah, that’s exactly why I brought you back here in the first place. Fan-freaking-tastic. Well. I need something to wear. And all of my clothes are in there. So I knock.
Dreamy, Beckett, opens the door almost immediately, as if he was standing there waiting for someone to burst in and attack. Actually, that’s probably exactly what he was doing. It’s what I would do. When he sees my lack of weaponry, he takes in the sight of me fully, eyes widening and eyebrow rising a bit in question. Chill out dude, I’m not here to jump you. “I need clothes.”
He looks at me like I’ve said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “And you want me to—?”
I roll my eyes, so over this conversation already. I’ve got things to do, people to hide out from. “Move. You’re in my room. I need clothes.”
His mouth falls into an O and he steps aside to allow me into the room. I look around, noticing that the girl is still asleep on my bed and their bags are sitting right next to the door, weapons on top. Ready to run. I head towards my dresser, picking out a bra and panties, then a tank top from the next drawer and a pair of jeans from the bottommost drawer. Lifting a pair of socks from the next row of drawers, I move towards my closet, choosing a maroon sweater and a light grey zip-up. He’s watched me through this whole ordeal, probably making sure I won’t pull a weapon from my underwear drawer and try to stab him. To be fair, I do have a knife in my underwear drawer, but I’m guessing he knows that. The first thing I’d do when entering a new room, would be to look for items that could be used for or against me. I’m guessing he’s picked up that trick too.
"What?" I barked out harshly. I turned to see him scanning me from head to toe. Normally I wouldn't care, boys will be boys and all that, but considering that I'm covered in nothing but a towel, he was making me fairly uncomfortable. His eyes stopped just below where the towel stopped and I blushed. Could you be any less obvious?
"Your boyfriend do that?" He sounded angry. Do what? Looking down at myself I realized what he was talking about. In the dim lighting of the bathroom I couldn't see the damage Matt had inflicted. Sure I felt it, but seeing and feeling are two very different things.
There are bruises, purple and splotchy all over my inner thighs, and a long cut above my left knee. I know how this looks, and what he must think. Embarrassment floods my cheeks as I shake my head. "It's not like that. I was--" I was what, attacked? I guess that would describe it. But I was the one who was doing the attacking, really. I just did a bad job of it. Hold on a minute. "Boyfriend?"
He let's out a small laugh. "Yeah. Prince Charming," he says, as if that's supposed to make sense to me. Who is he--? Oh.
"Leighton. He is SO not my boyfriend." As if.
He raises an eyebrow. "Who was it then?" Ugh. Can we not do this please?
I sigh. "It was nobody. I'm fine." I really don't want to talk about this right now. Or ever. Why can't people just let it go?
His mouth falls into a frown and his brows furrow. He takes a step towards me and I automatically take one backwards, away from him. I am naked after all. "If there's something I need to know about, to protect my sister, you are going to tell me." His voice is demanding and a bit menacing.
My eyes widen. And I open my mouth to speak, but I have no words prepared. He's standing close to me, eyes burrowing into my own waiting for an answer, ready to chastise me if I omit anything important. It makes me nervous. But he wouldn't hurt me, would he? He could. I know nothing about this man or his tendencies. I could have rescued a psychopath for all I know. "I--It's--" His stare continues to boar into mine. "He's gone. It's over," I manage. He may be gone, but it's definitely not over.
He keeps staring for a moment more, trying to gage if I'm lying. Satisfied, he nods and turns away, marking my cue to leave. Clutching onto my clothing, I skittle back to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I take a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Finally the weight of what I've done hits me. I brought strangers to my home. Our home. The one I share with Jax and Chris, and the other people who have become like family to me. I don't know anything about these people. Sure, he could've been classmates with Dil, and she's only a year or two younger than Leah. But that doesn't mean anything in this new world. What if they're dangerous? What if they try to steal what we have, or are part of another group who will wipe us out? I know nothing about these people. What have I done?
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Once I'm fully outfitted in my new duds, I head back out towards the living room with the intent of waking Chris for his own hangover routine. But he's already up and gone. Sometimes I hate his level of alcohol tolerance. Lucky son of a bitch. Sitting down in the couch I pull on my boots and lace them up. I'll have to get a new knife to replace the one I lost. And hopefully Leah picked up my others from the bar and grill.
Ready to face the outdoors, I open my front door and quickly throw it shut again. So. Much. Sunlight. I need sunglasses. Now where did I put those? After finding a pair I try for Outside: Take 2 and open the door again. Much better. I walk down towards the barn, spotting Jax and El feeding the pigs. Guess he got tired of waiting for me. I change directions and head over. No doubt El is going to want to talk to me about yesterday. Or yell, as she's prone to do these days.
I reach the edge of the pen and give what I hope to be a smile, and a "Hey." She doesn't seemed too mad. But that could change.
"Nennie, you took for-EV-er!” Jax bursts out. He’s loud. Oh so loud.
But I grin and laugh. "Yeah bud, that's what happens when you get old." He giggles and starts chasing one of the piglets. I turn towards El, waiting.
"You alright?" she asks. Maybe this'll go better than I thought.
I nod at her. "Yeah, I'm fine." I feel as though that's all I say these days. "How's D?"
It's her turn to give a small smile. "Mel says he'll be fine with a couple'a days rest. She says it would've been much worse if you hadn't gotten back here so quickly." Quickly? It was a two hour drive that might as well have lasted forever.
I nod and smile again, showing my elation. "That's good. Really good. Leighton was the one drive though. You should thank him." As much as I hate to admit it, he pulled through for us yesterday.
"He's not here."
My mouth falls open, dropping the smile and eyes narrowing. "Where is he?"
She just shrugs. "I dunno. He left early this morning, took the truck. Said he'd be back later." What. The. Actual. Fuck.
"He left by himself?!" I growl out, My voice growing with disbelief. The sounds hurts my own ears and increases the pounding in my head.
El just shrugs again and cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah. He did. You're not the only one who's allowed to make stupid, dangerous decisions without consulting anyone else." And there we have it folks. If there's one thing Eloise Cleary-Perkins is good at, it's throwing shade.
"Just because I'm a bad example doesn't mean others should copy me. When is he going to be back?" I bite out. The freaking idiot. If there's one thing I think we've learned in the past, it's not to go anywhere alone.
She sighs. "I don't know. He just came in to check on Dillon and then left. But he'll be fine. It's just Leighton after all." Yeah. Leighton. The no-good, dumbass, jerk faced asshole who--
"Hey sunshine." Ry. He whispers it in my ear but it might as well of been shouted through a megaphone.
"Dude," I whine out. Can no one see the state I'm in?
"Your newbies up yet? Figured we'd all have a nice chat when Lee gets back," he says. Ryan's a nice guy. Always happy. And loyal. Kind of like a puppy dog. But I doubt he'd be so happy if the Perkins brothers ever found out he's been sneaking into Leah's room after everyone's in bed. I'm fact, I'm fairly certain he’d be the exact opposite of happy and sporting a few new injuries.
I sigh loudly. Despite the fact that I'm pissed about him leaving on his own without backup and a timeframe, I'm dreading Leighton's return. The only reason he'd have left like that is if he's trying to cool down and clear his mind. Or he's coming up with a really good argument that'll make me regret ever being born. Or both. Either option is feasible. And I am seriously not in a mood to be yelled at today. “I don’t know. Sort of. I figure they’ll come out when they’re ready.”
He nods understanding and gives me a grin. “Damn Len. You look like shit.”
“Yeah I know, asshole,” I laugh and his smile grows. “You’re not exactly looking so hot yourself.”
Although his smile remains, it does decrease in size and his eyes grow sad. “Yeah. Leah was up all night, worried about D. And—” he stops, and I raise my brows at him. “Tif, Matt. She’s afraid he’ll come back. Tif still hasn’t said anything.”
My mood instantly depresses. But if any of us have an excuse to check out for a few days, it’s Tiffany. What Matt did to me was child’s play compared to her and Riane. I don’t doubt for a second that he’ll come back. Leighton should hav—
“Len, maybe you should go check in on her,” El suggests, cutting off my thoughts. Yeah, maybe I should.
“She still up at the house?” I ask and El nods her conformation. “I’ll go now,” I say, and I start walking away up the hill towards the main house. “Make sure he washes his hands!” I throw back, motioning to Jax, and she waves her goodbye.
The main house is about 500 yards away from the barn and my apartment, up a slight hill. I used to walk this everyday, multiple times, when I was on my way to and from work. Nannying for Jax was the best decision I’ve ever made, and the best job I ever could have hoped for, though sometimes it seems like another life. Someone else’s life. Like I’m watching a movie about an alternate universe. Man, I miss movies.
When I reach the front door I stop for a moment to contemplate what I’m going to say. What do you say to someone who’s been assaulted like that? I have no experience in this, no idea what to say, what not to say. I feel like I should, but I don’t. It’s not like I can magically make it all better. I know I can’t. But what am I supposed to say? Sorry Tif, I didn’t realize he was a complete psychopath until it was too late, and even then I couldn’t do anything. Or maybe Sorry he raped and killed your best friend, and then tried to do the same to you, and then me. Or better yet, Sorry I didn’t run fast enough. Yeah. No. Maybe I just won’t say anything.
I open the door and walk inside. It's quiet. The kitchen and living/family room are empty. That's strange, even with all that's been going on lately. But then I hear a faint voice coming from the guest bedroom. They must still have her in that room. I walk over to the cracked doorway, looking inside. Becky's back is to me and she's reading aloud from a book. Nicholas Sparks. Not sure a tearjerker is a good idea, but whatever, it's not my life. I knock softly on the doorframe and she turns in her seat, giving me a big smile. Becky really is one of the most kindhearted, genuinely good people I've known in my entire life. She's definitely the mothering type and has adopted each member of our unconventional crew. She always knows exactly what I need, even if I don't. I don't know what we'd do without her here.
She pats the bed beside her and pulls me close when I sit down. "How're you feeling honey?"
I look at her concerned face and I know that couldn't lie to her even if I tried. "I don't know." Which is the truth. I haven't wanted to sort out my feelings, so I didn't. Now I'm all muddled. I shake my head and look away, down to Tiffany's still form. God it's bad. She looks worse off than the last time I checked in on her. I'm surprised she's still alive. Her face is black and blue, swollen beyond recognition, with various cuts here and there. Her nose is broken. Maybe even her jaw too. She has the same bruising around her neck that I have. Her arms in the same state, with rope burns around her wrists. The rest of her body is covered by blankets and I think it's better that way. I don't want to think about what he did to the rest of her body. Tears are starting to form in my eyes. Fuck. Why didn't I run faster? Why couldn't I have done something? I should have known.
"It isn't your fault." Her words break me out of my thoughts. "You couldn't have known." It's like she's reading my mind. Just like Leighton did. Maybe I'm more transparent than I think. "There was nothing you could have done. For Tiffany or Riane. That-boy is a sick, sick human being and he will be judged for what he's done. But that's why there are people like you in the world. I have no doubt that you will find him, and stop him from hurting anyone else. But in order to do that, you need to heal. Dwelling in the past will only hinder you, and you need to be strong to survive this fight. And I KNOW that you will survive this. We all will. I KNOW how strong you are. I've seen it, time and time again. But you need to put the past away. All of it. You need to mend, not just your body, but your mind and your soul. Trust your gut. Trust our family. Trust yourself. And let it all go."
For a moment I consider what she's said. Let it all go. But how much is all of it? How far back am I supposed to reach? "What if I can't?"
"You can. You will. I know you. There is no one more determined and tough as you. You can do anything you want. But never be afraid to admit that you need help. That you need someone. None of us can make it alone." I wonder for a second if now she's talking about something else entirely. It wouldn't be the first time her words have had multiple meanings. She's good like that. I guess I'm quiet for a minute because she stands up and says, "Why don't you sit with her for awhile. I need to check on Dillon anyway," and she leaves the room.
I look back down at Tiffany and feel my heart ache again. She looks so fragile, nothing like the fighter I've come to know. Humans are the cruelest of the animal kingdom. But we're also the most resilient. The most capable. Becky is right. I will find Matt and I will stop him. Even if it's the last thing I do. I just need to heal.