through the walls, drowning out the sound of the screen popping off the window. I stick a leg over the edge, nearly falling off the side of the house as I try to remain balanced. I grip the edge of the windowsill, wobbling slightly before tilting my weight inward, falling clumsily into the room. It’s pitch black in here but the sound of the party continues on outside the closed door of Bran’s room.
The tiniest hint of light from beneath the wooden door guides me towards it as I trip over a heap of clothing or blankets, or something on the floor. Who knows? I reach out for the door handle, only to have it fly open. I suck in a breath, falling back against the wall behind the door with my hands raised and palms out, as Bran and some chick push their way in, mouths locked together.
She’s moaning into the kiss while he reaches for the edge of her shirt. If I wasn’t playing the part of strange-boy-hiding-in-the-darkness-in-order-to-achieve-my-goals-of-stealing-a-dead-squirrel, I’d knock his dumb-ass out before he could get to second base.
But I’m hoping maybe he’s distracted enough that I can somehow slip out of this room.
They continue kissing as he removes her shirt, pushing her back onto the bed. Just as I’m thinking I’m going to need to wait out whatever sexual experience they are about to perform, she stops him.
“Wait, wait…Bran.”
He must not be listening because I can hear him continuing to kiss her neck. Fucking pig.
“Bran stop! I have to get the stuff before I forget.”
He groans. “Seriously Cami?”
“My brother will kill me if I don’t.”
“Fuck your brother,” he comments as I hear a zipper open.
God, he’s disgusting.
“Bran!” her whiny voice yells again.
Huffing in frustration, he gets up and off of her on the bed, not even helping her up, before he stalks back out into the house down the hallway. She finds her shirt in the light pouring through the now open door, quickly following after him.
I finally let out a breath at the lucky escape. Peeking around the door, I find the hallway empty as the party rages outside. Tiptoeing my big ass down the dark hallway, I see the door that I remember belongs to the attic. Carefully opening it, I quickly slide behind the door, shutting it behind me. I walk up the wooden stairs, finding the pull light above my head again.
Illuminating the space, I squint my eyes to adjust to the light. As everything comes into focus again, I spot the old couch Brynn and I were making out on, then look up into the corner where the stacks of radios were. There, hidden in the outskirts of the light, is that little beady face staring right down at me. I’m hit with a wave of warmth as my heart clenches in my chest for Han. I’ve never been happier to see a deceased animal in all of my life.
I look around, finding a wooden chair at the opposite end of the attic, bringing it near the stack so I can attempt to reach him. Teetering on the edge, I grab for his twisted little arm, sucking in a breath when the radio beneath him falls forward.
“Shit!” I curse, holding him in my hand, but now using my forehead to hold up this vintage radio from toppling.
I carefully lower my feet back down onto the chair, gently pushing the radio back and balancing the stack of them again before letting go. They stay put as I slowly back away. Blowing out a nervous breath, I count my blessings that the entire mountain of antiques didn’t collapse into a devastatingly loud avalanche of destruction.
With my squirrel in hand, I trot the rest of the way down the wooden stairs. A satisfied grin resides on my goofy face as I clutch it to myself, until I open the door and I’m met with nothing but hard eyes.
There, behind the attic door, stands Bran, Silas, and their little gang of dick-lickers and ass-eaters behind them, staring me down. Fuck me.
“You really thought you’d break in and out of here without someone noticing your ugly ass?” Bran asks, cocking his head to the side.
I sigh to myself, knowing there’s really no way out of this. I’m about to get my ass beat.
“You really thought you’d lace coke with Fentanyl and no one would find out?” I retort as the guys’ eyes widen around him. “You dumb fuck.”
I’m not scared of this prick. If anything, I’m excited about the opportunity to knock him down a notch. Bring him out of his fantasy drug-dealing land where he thinks he actually reigns and knock him back into hard reality where you have to pay up for your mistakes with your face.
“Aww, he’s still jealous, guys.” He laughs, nudging Silas, who looks a little anxious. “Guess your little morbid mate isn’t looking so highly at you now that you’re out of a job, eh?”
Of course, he has no idea she’s literally in a coma from the shit he’s carelessly tossing around town.
I stalk towards him with the squirrel behind my back. “Talk about her to me again.” I warn, my nostrils flaring as I stare down at him with venom in my gaze.
“I love knowing your weakness.” He smirks up at me. “You’ll get down on your knees for her, only for her to get down on her knees for me.”
Yep. That’s all it takes. I’m done.
I swing on him. A nice little right hook to the jaw. His head spins to the side as the mountain of men come at me.
The hits come hard and fast and from all around me. I clutch that fucking squirrel to my chest before it’s stripped from my hands and I take another blow to the face. I got a few swings in before they jumped me. I take rib shots, kidney shots, someone even punches my dick. No Robo-Hawke to save me this time. My vision becomes cloudy and the ringing in my ears is so pronounced that I don’t hear the scream that causes everyone else to turn.
Whatever happened, it has all of their attention.
I roll to my knees with a groan as the guys run down the hallway towards the apparent commotion. Feeling the blood pour out of my face, I gently touch the side of my cheek and suck in a breath from the pain. My nose is probably broken and my left eye is already hot and on its way to swelling up. Clumsily, I stand, bracing myself against the wall, squinting out of my good eye. The squirrel. Where’s the squirrel?
Whatever happened caused them to all panic like bitches, leaving me and tossing it to the side as well. I slowly bend down and grab him, clenching my teeth in pain before turning into Bran’s room, leaving the house the same way I came in.
Sirens blaze from far away as I fall into the seat of my car. I buckle my Mariachi squirrel into the seatbelt of the passenger seat as the pedal hits the floor, tires screeching in my race back to the hospital, back to my girl.
“Sir?” The lady tries to stop me. “Sir, we need you to fill out some forms first.”
“I’m not—” I pause where I’m walking, looking down at her. “I’m not here for care.”
“Sir, you need help. Now, you’re in the right place, but we need a little information—”
“He’s with me.” I hear the deep, familiar voice.
I turn to face Hawke, his eyes widening before he slaps on a calm, collected face again, peering at the front desk lady.
“He needs help!” she says in frustration, waving a hand over my bleeding and broken form.
“Trust me, I know,” Hawke says, gripping a hand around the back of my neck and leading me down the hall away from the lady.
“Thanks for your concern though, desk lady! I appreciate you!” I slur before Hawke pulls me harder, turning me forward.
Rounding the corner, he leads me to a restroom, dropping his hand as I finally get a look at myself in the mirror.
Jesus.
My clothes are tattered, and my shirt is ripped near the neck, exposing my collarbone. Blood is dripping all down my face, dried, crusted blood trailing down my chin. My shirt is a brand new shade of grisly gore. My left eye has me looking like a second place boxer, and my bottom lip looks like I just came back from a visit to my local cosmetic doc for some fillers.
“What the fuck happened to you?!” Hawke exclaims, pulling some paper towel from the holder and wetting it for me. “And what are you carrying?!” His face contorts in disgust at the presence of the squirrel under my arm.
I take the paper towel and begin attempting to wipe the dried blood off my face.
“I had something I needed to do,” I comment, hissing when I touch the opening cut under my eye.
“She’s been asking for you,” he says desperately, making my stomach drop.
“She’s awake?!” I drop the tissues to the tile floor.
He shakes his head slightly. “Not really. But they removed her intubation tube. She’s been calling out for you, mumbling what sounds like your name.”
I turn, pushing through the door of the restroom immediately. My swollen ankle gives out and I stumble into the wall across from the bathroom door.
Hawke quickly grabs me, hoisting me up. “Dude, you’re not okay right now.”
“Just get me to her, Hawke.” I demand, my eyes glaring through his.
He must sense my incessant need because he simply nods his head before placing an arm around me, helping me limp to her room.
They’re all in here now, staring at me with horrified faces. Cole runs up to me first.
“Oh my God, Kid?! What happened?!” she shrieks, cupping my face tenderly, her glossy eyes showing her worry.
“D-don’t worry about me. How is she? How are you?” I stutter all of it out at once.
Cole licks her lips, looking back at Han, then at the old man in a way-too-fancy-for-the-hospital suit, who’s sleeping in the corner.
Guess they let him in.
“Better.” She gives me a weak smile. “We started talking. All of us.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I get the impression that she said all she needed to say to her sister while she could do nothing but listen. A therapeutic release, I’m sure. But she seems more at ease. She seems oddly comforted and, for whatever the reason, I’m just happy to see her like this.
“We’ll get out of here,” she whispers, wiping away a loose tear. “She wants you. Only you.”
My chest fills with a warmth I’ve never known as I make a pained face, clutching my bloody shirt in a fist over my heart. Cole wakes the man in the corner gently, and he quickly sits up, orienting himself. His eyes find mine before they shoot open, peering between Han, Cole, Hawke, and then me again.
Standing up awkwardly, he clears his throat. “You’re Kai?”
I chuckle at his first view of me. Every father’s dream. I don’t think any man would approve of this piece of wheat grass covered in blood, bruises, endless tattoos, crazy wild hair, and ripped clothing before him. Not for their daughter, anyway.
“Sorry. Unfortunately, I am.” I frown with a light shrug.
Then, surprising me, he clings himself to my bloody, lengthy frame. His arms wrap around me as hands pat my back roughly. I peer at Cole behind him, with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes filled with what I can only describe as sad appreciation.
He leans back from the embrace, holding both of my forearms. He has her dark, black hair, even if it’s speckled with age, and those green eyes, framed with nothing but red, tormented veins, are clearly hers. The look of a man who’s seen better days, but is feeling the heavy weight of regret. As he should.
“I can only hope to be as good of a man as you one day,” he says with hurt in his gaze.
My brows lower in confusion as I wonder what was said about me. He simply nods before brushing past me and leaving the awkward space.
Cole smiles lightly, giving me a quick hug before she sidles up with Hawke and they walk out of the room. It feels like all of their hope for her resides in me now being here. It’s somewhat intimidating, if I’m honest.
The monitors continue beeping as the silence in the now empty room encompasses me. I sigh as I reach Han again. I grab her hand, immediately locking fingers with hers, pulling the back of it to my lips for a kiss before I place it where it belongs, against my heart.
“I did it, baby,” I whisper. “I got him for you.”
I gently place the shriveled up squirrel on the blanket over her lap between the gap in her legs.
“You can come back now.”
I sit there for a moment, my eyes tracing over her hollowed cheeks, her skin that looks slightly paler than it did before I left. Her lips, still chapped and dry from having that tube there when she needed help breathing.
They said she was doing better. Even mumbled my name, or so they thought. Why won’t she wake up? She needs to wake up. I did what I was supposed to do. Now it’s her turn.
“You can wake up now, Han,” I say again, squeezing her hand tighter in mine. “I’m here. I’m right here. I’ve got your squirrel, you can come back. The band’s complete. I stole him from Bran to bring you back. I’ve got you. I told you, I got you. We can be happy now. It’s over.”
I mutter endless words that begin to feel useless, the beeping continuously ticking in my ear like a clock of defeat, slowly making time around us seem stagnant. I stare down at her in disbelief, almost getting agitated.
“Come back, Han,” I demand, edging her on as if I have the power to convince her. “Come back.”
Sickening silence answers me, making me question everything. I wait as her chest rises and falls steadily, counting the breaths again. It’s not like the twisted fairy tale I’d envisioned. I don’t kiss her, hand her a stuffed squirrel, and then she suddenly wakes with a smile. No, this is life. And I’m reminded how unfair and fucking ruthless it can really be.
I was expecting something. Anything. But this? This silence? This deafening, gut-wrenching silence?
What if she’s suffered more brain damage than they expected?
What if this is as good as it gets?
What if she never comes back?
“No,” I say aloud, answering my own thought and pushing it away.
But it’s slowly removing the hope I’d built around us, caving to the unfortunate dread of a new reality that’s seeping its way in.
A reality that doesn’t coincide with the one we’d hoped.
