Quiet settles upon us, only the gentle lapping of the sea against the shore sounding in the distance. If I don’t look down at the blood stain on my left, I can almost imagine this is an ordinary night, just Dax and I gazing into the horizon in complete peace with one another. Except the emptiness in the pit of my soul is expanding, swallowing every trace of happiness I’ve ever felt, and the man beside me is partly responsible. My limbs are numb, my heart begrudgingly beating as I try to think of what to do now. A groan sounds from inside, jerking me from my misery.
“Shit, Huxley!” I push past Dax and re-enter the kitchen, gripping Huxley’s face in my hands. His face is covered in red marks that are quickly bruising, his nose at a crooked angle and lip busted. Together, Dax and I gently lay him onto the lino flooring so Dax can check him over for serious injuries while I talk to him gently. His eyelids open slowly, the chocolate brown depths focusing on me as a small smile pulls at his lips.
“Y…you’re safe,” he croaks. Resting my forehead against his, I can’t share his joy. If Nixon hadn’t reclaimed me as his daughter, if I didn’t even exist, everyone would have been safe. But their happiness has been shattered, their lives put at risk purely for knowing me. Dax confirms Huxley is only a little banged up so at least one part of me can breathe a little easier. Together, we lift his heavy weight to place him onto the sofa and I stroke his dirty blonde locks from his face.
“We need to move.” Dax states while I focus on Huxley’s hair and nod, not interested in conversing with him but understanding we need a plan. “I’ll do Garrett and Axel’s room, you do Huxley’s. Grab what you can, meet back here in 10 minutes. Leave all phones behind.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about Wyatt’s room but the question immediately dies. I purposely haven’t thought about Wyatt yet, needing to make sure everyone is safe before I allow the rage for his actions to take over. He will pay in turn though, for every drop of blood spilt and ounce of suffering he’s caused. I’ll make sure of that myself.
Telling him I’ll be right back; I kiss Huxley on the forehead and race upstairs to his room first. Grabbing his black duffle bag from beneath his bed, I haphazardly stuff clothes from the drawers inside before moving into the bathroom. Throwing his toothbrush and insane amount of hair products inside, I zip the bag and leave it in the hallway as I dash up the next staircase to mine and Meg’s room.
Pushing the door open and stepping inside, dread hits me like a freight train as I see the set of folded pyjamas on the pillow, patiently waiting for the owner that won’t be returning tonight. My Meg, my twin. Where are they taking her? What are they going to do? Every worst-case scenario possible plays behind my eyes, the sounds of her screams filling my ears. I drop to my knees, violent shakes grip my body and refuse to let go. Allowing myself ten seconds to wallow, I begin counting down between whimpers. Ten, nine…be strong for her, she knows you won’t rest until she’s safe…three, two, one. On a long exhale, I open my eyes and grind my teeth with determination. I can’t save her from here, I need to get up and get fucking moving.
In a similar fashion to Huxley’s room, I grab my backpack and start shoving clothes in from the wardrobe, trying to select monotone items and avoiding designer labels at all costs. We don’t need any extra attention whilst on the run from the mob. Seriously what has my life come to? My brain suddenly switches into survival mode, grabbing all the cash I can find from various handbags, jacket pockets and Meg’s purse. Leaving our make-up and shoe collection behind, I grab Meg’s hairbrush from the nightstand, a hand full of hair ties and empty the bathroom cupboard before moving to leave. One last glance back at the bed where she should be, I close the door and jog back to the second floor.
The door at the end of the hallway is ajar, darkness lying within. My curiosity peeks, pushing me forward as Dax crashes about in Garrett’s room. Slowly, I push the door open to reveal Wyatt’s room. I don’t know what I expected to find, it’s not like he’d have left a double-sided letter explaining himself, but I feel like there should be. He should have found a scrap of decency in his dead soul to explain his actions. Sibling rivalry is one thing, helping to kidnap and leaving your friend for dead it something else entirely. If I could understand- no, Avery don’t do that. Don’t try to find the good in someone who is clearly too far gone. He made his choice and he will love to regret it.
Reaching around the doorframe, I flick the light switch and glance around the illuminated room. A pile of splintered wood and sharp shards of glass sit in a heap in the corner of the room, his duvet crumpled like he’s tossed and turned every night since arriving. Through the open bathroom door, I can see the empty frame where the mirror should be and several cracked tiles lining the wall. A buzzing sound makes me jump, the screen of Wyatt’s cell phone briefly brightening on the
