“I’m getting Meg back.” That one statement meant more to me than any profession of love ever could. No promising to try his best or pretending everything’s going to work out, just pure determination. In his silent observations, Huxley has realised I don’t need pretty words or reassurance, I need action. And even though when it comes to it, I won’t let anyone else suffer in this quest except me, the least I can do is to make sure Huxley continues on this path to a full recovery. Mentally and physically.
That night I’d jumped straight out of bed and begun running drills with him, rounds of squats, push ups and sit ups, some light sparring practice and even a midnight run around the city, Huxley’s comforting presence by my side the entire time. The burn of my muscles is a balm to my anxiety, the only productive way to soothe my helplessness. And if the grunts of exercise through our thin motel walls screw with Dax a little, I’m fine with that. Not to be a passive aggressive bitch, but the more his feelings for me dwindle the better because one day very soon, I’m going to risk everything to save my twin and I don’t care what happens to me in the process.
A motorbike pulls up beside us in a queue at the traffic lights, a woman’s figure in hot pink leathers and matching helmet leaning over a custom painted Kawasaki Ninja. My eyebrows rise and I openly gape at the black machine with fuchsia lightning bolts decals, the gritty sound of her exhaust filling my ears as she speeds away. My eyes track her, weaving through the vehicles with ease and a sense of freedom I could only long for. Slumping against the window, I watch the world blur by knowing I have no place in it, my self-esteem taking a mental battering. Soon enough, we’ve left the city behind and settled in for a long drive in the typical silence we’ve been sharing lately.
It’s times like this I wish I had my phone to scroll through all the photos of Meg and I. Camping trips, movies nights, college parties. Memories we probably won’t get a second chance to enjoy together, the future looking bleak for both of us. If I can somehow contact Ray Perelli and convince him to take me instead, let me pay the debt he feels he’s owed, then maybe for Meg it doesn’t have to be the end. Dax’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Axel’s not gonna be happy if he wakes up in- “I kick the back of his seat hard, causing the car to swerve before he rights himself.
“When he wakes up,” I growl. “The surgery went well, he’s just.... taking his time to recover. Resting is the best thing he can do.” I meet the brief narrowed glance he throws back at me with a look of venom, refusing to consider his words.
“What I was going to say was – if he wakes up in his old house. Resting to Axel means being trapped in his past, replaying the same night over and over. Physically he’ll pull through, but I doubt he’ll be the same Axel knew when he comes around. Especially back there.” Oh, well that’s different. I slump back in the seat, already restless despite having barely made a dent in our long journey. This is the exact reason I was home schooled and kept everyone at arm’s length, I can’t handle losing those I care about. And losing the Axel I knew will leave a scar on my already damaged heart for sure.
“He’s got Garret,” I reply weakly. Dax scoffs and even Huxley glances to me with uncertainty. I’m praying Garrett pulls through on this, takes Axel’s offered heart and treasures it like the precious gift it is. They could heal each other in ways no one else can, their connection clear enough for anyone to see. Needing to escape my own head for a while, I lean through the centre of the car and turn the radio’s dial until a string of pop songs are blaring through the speakers. Losing myself to the music, I snuggle into Huxley’s side and feign sleep. His protective arm rounds my body, his fingers finding my hair to make repetitive strokes.
Sometimes, I wish I were the type of girl to let someone take over for a while, to wake me when everything is back to normal. But that seems too easy. Pain is what lets me know I’m awake, the raw ache in my chest reminds me life doesn’t stop for anyone. We must brave our own storms and cling to the hope a brief ray of sunshine might peek through the clouds before our last sun sets. No shortcuts, no cop outs, no mercy.
Meg
Holy shit, I’m going to die down here. The instant Wyatt walked away from me; the realisation dawned that this is all real. For some reason, I thought things wouldn’t go this far, that some part of him wouldn’t dump me in the hands of a murderous gangster and walk away. I should have fought harder, I should have unleashed the true ferocity of my struggling, maybe even sobbed and pleaded.
How could I have been so stupid? I reckon I subconsciously allowed myself to be put back into Wyatt’s clutches, figuring it’s my turn to suffer in the revolving cycle he can’t seem to break free from. Everything is so unnecessarily fucked. Wyatt feels more than hard done by; he genuinely believes he’s missed out on something due to my existence. But if it came to between me and Avery, then I’ll gladly take this round. She’s been through too much, and as much as I can pretend, she has a chance to flee and start over, I know she’ll be running straight towards me.
An electronic lantern shines through the steels bars I’m clutching onto, the grate allowing
