"We are going to a party…It's a birthday party." – At The Bottom of Everything – Bright Eyes
Music echoed in Freddie's shed through that summer night. Inside its walls, they all came and went, dancing their worries away with loving whispers, alcohol and the stars. It had been so long since they had been able to share such a comfortable moment - a simple content moment together – that it felt almost surreal, but as if it were the most natural thing for them to do.
One could still feel, if they looked into some of the partiers' eyes, a lingering worry about their friend's unknown whereabouts. However, every worry, resentment, anger, jealousy, sadness and fear seemed to have been pushed aside for just a few hours, for a just a few hours of relief, for something they hadn't been able to share in several months. Peace.
It was fitting, somehow, even though Freddie couldn't be there with them, to be celebrating his birthday. His disappearance was still a mystery for all of them, but his usual lightheartedness, his usual calm and peace with the world around him seemed to somehow echo in their music, their dance moves and their carefree chattering.
There was love too, bouncing off of every wall. Somehow, most of them seemed to have found some, one could only assume Freddie would have liked that. He was one of the greatest believers in love, out of all of them. They had always known he would do anything for love. For him it had always seemed like love would conquer all and if it didn't – if it threatened to fail for any reason – then he would take it upon himself to take hold of its armor and fight for it. Fight for love. That's what Freddie did best.
Two of the girls were dancing animatedly with each other, sneaking loving kisses every time their bodies were thrown closer to each other. They couldn't help but smile, after such long months of self inflicted misery, how could they do anything else but smile? It all just seemed right when their hands touched, when their bodies collided, when their lips intertwined – mostly, it all just fit every time their eyes met. And it was perfect.
Naomi looked down at Emily again, she almost felt like she had to check – make sure it was real. It was indescribable how it made her feel to be able to look at her again. To have the right to look at her, really look at her, look into her eyes with all the love she now was certain she could never hold back. It was astonishing how good it felt to finally be able to give herself entirely to someone, to be able to love and to allow someone to fully love her back. Yes, she loved Emily. And nothing else mattered.
"What is it?" Emily asked, still giggling from whatever they had been laughing about previously, and Naomi realized she had been staring. She would be doing a lot of that from now on.
"Nothing. Just had a strange urge to have some lobster." She winked and the girl playfully chuckled at her, pinching her arm lightly before placing a lingering kiss on her lips. Emily winked back at her before turning around and saying something about getting them some more drinks and well – promising some more lobster for later that night.
Naomi just stood there smiling quite stupidly to herself following her with her eyes until she realized something was moving in her clothes. It brought her back from her stupor as she patted her pockets confusedly for a while until she found her phone. She looked at the name in the screen: Cook. She looked around herself briefly – she had been so lost on being in Emily's arms that she had barely realized that he wasn't there anymore.
"Hello James! So now you've decided to start ditching our parties, Cookie? You better not be after that Arrrssia skank, coz if you are – I swear you won't see your own balls for –" She trailed off when she heard his voice on the other end.
"Naomikins…" His voice was shaking, hoarse. She heard his sad attempt at a small chuckle and knew right away something wasn't right. Despite the use of her nickname, she had never heard Cook's voice that way. It had never sounded like this before.
"Cook. What happened? Where are you?"
"Naomi…" She left the shed, hurried outside so she could hear him better. Something wasn't right. She heard a noise that sounded like he was trying to muffle a groan; she could hear his breathing harsh and unstable as he tried to gather his voice and strength. She had talked to Cook while he was unashamedly fucking some random skank – she hated whenever he would do that actually – but it had never sounded like this. No, this wasn't pleasure. Cook was in pain – she knew him enough to know that.
"Cook, where the fuck are you? Are you okay?! What the fuck-"
"Naomi…" Another sharp intake of breath, a muffled groan. "I need you to… Fuck!.. Naomi… John Foster he… Freddie – Freddie he…"
"What about Freddie, Cook?! Where the fuck are you – what's happening?!" She was almost panicked now.
"I'm at John Foster's… jesus fucking Christ!" She heard him wincing painfully. "FUCK!" She heard his groan loud and clear now. His voice was wavering. "He fucking -" Sobs. "He Fucking – Freds – He's… He's fucking…" A deep breath. "I need you to call the police. To Foster's." He somehow managed to give her an address in between more sobs and groans.
"Cook! Cook – what's happened?! Cook, who's that?! Fucking Foster, who's that fucker – Cook?! What's happened to Freddie – are you okay, Cook, are you okay?!" Her voice was shaking now too.
"Freddie's Dead, Naomi! FUCKING DEAD! John Foster he…" another sob and more deep groans. "He fucking -… Just call the fucking police Naoms, call the fucking police! And – don't tell Effy. Not now. Just fucking…. -"
"Cook! Cook!" Naomi froze as the line went dead in her ears.
Cook was hurt.
John Foster.
Police.
Freddie was…
Cook was hurt.
Cook's words ran over and over in front her eyes as she stood paralyzed in front of the shed, for a moment she couldn't move – couldn't even bring her fucking phone down from her ear, clinging to it as if it were the only thing that would make everything okay. Cook was hurt in some stranger's house and Freddie was – Freddie was fucking dead. No – She had to move, she couldn't just stand there.
"Shit, Shit shit!" She looked around in panic for a second when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to Thomas' screwed up worried face, she had forgotten he had been outside weezing next to the shed.
"What's happened?" He asked, concern written all over his face.
"I dunno – Cook he –" She stopped mid sentence when she heard the door open behind them and music filled her ears again for a brief moment. It was Emily, drinks in hand smiling brightly up at her. Her smile faded immediately as she caught her panicked eyes and Naomi could see a sudden flash of fear in her face.
"What's wrong?" Naomi took a big breath before answering, to gather her thoughts.
"It's Cook. He needs help – I think he's hurt – he needs help, I have to go find him – I think… I think he found Freddie."
"Freddie?! Naomi – what's happened?!"
"I need to go find him, Ems, I have to go there. I won't be long – I'll be back but I need to go help Cook and –"
"I'll go with you!"
"No! I dunno what's happened and you might – you might get hurt I don't want that to happen- I-! They'll need you here, Em!" She added when she saw the flame in Emily's eyes shooting at her. "I dunno what's happened to Freds, Cook said something but I-… Em. They'll need you here – all of them. Katie – she might need you. I have to go find Cook."
She turned to leave, to run, she had to find Cook. Emily would forgive her – she would have to – just one last time. But she had to find Cook. She heard Thomas' voice echoing through the garden before she could reach the street.
"I'll go with Naomi, Emily. Don't worry. I'll go – but – don't tell the others. Not yet – we'll call you as soon as we know more. It's no good for them to worry for nothing, not until we know more…"
She could see Emily's shocked nod from where the stood and waited until Thomas caught up with her. Naomi then broke into a run, Thomas' footsteps close behind her, running towards the address Cook had managed to give her in between groans and sobs. Cook was hurt. Cook was her friend, she never really knew why or how, but he was her friend – her brother almost – and he was hurt. He needed her.
Emily stood frozen to her spot for what seemed like several hours. Cook, hurt. Something about Freddie. What the fuck was happening. She saw the worry in Naomi's eyes, the panic, and couldn't help but to admire her genuine care for Cook – for whatever trouble Cook might be in. Cook's always getting into fights, and yeah – sometimes Naomi takes care of him. But this felt different. Somehow, the fear in Naomi's voice told her this was different. Something was horribly wrong.
She couldn't go back inside, to the party. She paced and waited outside for Naomi's call. She simply couldn't go back inside, look into Karen and Effy's eyes and say: "Everything is ok. I know nothing about Freddie. Cook's fine."
Yet she knew she couldn't just tell them the truth, Thomas was right. Whatever this was it was much more serious than they could imagine at the moment, and saying the wrong thing now could only make it worse. They needed to know better, to know what had happened before they could tell the others. Tell Karen. Tell Effy. Emily thought about Effy while she waited for Naomi's call.
They were getting closer to the address Cook gave her by now. She typed Cook's number frantically on her phone, and waited impatiently for him to answer – barely slowing down her pace. "Come on, Cook! Fucking Answer!"
She heard a grunt in the other end of the line.
"Cook! Cook! Are you okay, Cook?! I'm on my way!"
"Naomikins…" another grunt, his breathing sounded even worse than the last time they'd spoken.
"Cook. What's happened? What did John Foster do, Cook?"
"He – argh fuck! – he killed Freddie. I – I think he's down know. I knocked him down. He fucking – Freddie, Naomi – he fucking" Another loud grunt, more painful this time. "Call the police, Naoms, I… I fucking loved him Naoms…I loved him…"
The line went silent again. Cook's breathing had been shallower, he was having trouble breathing. She heard his voice even more shaky and wavering and hoarse. Cook was badly hurt.
"Fuck!" She shouted into the night. She could feel Thomas' eyes burning into her, he seemed concerned too, although ultimately much calmer than her. Tears were running freely on her face now, but she had to be brave for now, she had to find Cook and be calm and work out what the fuck was happening. Maybe she heard it wrong, she couldn't tell, all she knew was that she couldn't think about it now.
She called the police as she accelerated her steps, Thomas adjusting easily to her speed. She could barely speak between sobs and fear. The guy on the end of the line was clearly confused by her blabbering but seemed to get the point, although the fucker seemed almost reluctant to believe her accusations about John Foster. "He's got James Cook! James Cook's there – ok?! You're looking for James fucking Cook aren't you?! So get your fucking police arse to the address I gave you! And bring an ambulance – he's hurt, badly."
She hung up violently and clung to her phone as she kept running.
A couple of blocks later and they got to what seemed to be Foster's house, she saw his name on a gold plate out of the corner of her eye when she ran towards the house. There was an open window on the lowest floor, leading to what seemed to be the basement. She felt Thomas rushing past her and kneeling in front of the window cautiously before she could even reach it. He looked back at her in alarm: "He's here."
Naomi rushed to his side, practically lying down on the floor to look inside. A bald man was down in one corner. He seemed unconscious. There was blood, too much blood, blood everywhere. Red. All she saw was red.
Then she spotted Cook sprawled on the ground, in a second pool of blood.
"Cook!" she squealed more than screamed and she jumped inside without thinking, running to Cook's barely conscious form.
"Cook! Wake up, Cook!"