Hello again! Just some information for you: if there are any weird word misplacements or mispellings, it's because I write the majority of this on my cell phone and it autocorrects things all the time. I usually ready through and edit things but I don't always grab things. Anyway, I went through all of the last twenty chapters today and edits/fixed a couple errors and geographical errors as well. I don't write on my laptop usually because I don't always have it with me when I'm ready to write. Enjoy!
When I'm finished singing, David's tears have eased slightly. I hear a presence behind me and whirl around, panicked. It's just Barney.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were-"
"We are," David says, finally talking.
"Okay, well, if you wait out front, they'll bring her to you," Barney offers. He nods and leaves the room quietly. Mira hesitates, and follows. Barney approaches me, with a sympathetic look in his eyes.
"I had no idea you sang," he comments, putting an arm around my shoulder as we walk out.
"I did a lot of it for those two. Lullabies work even for adults," I sigh.
"You're a good friend to them," he tells me.
"We're more family now… I'm all they have left. And for a while, they were all I had too. I came out better after this whole mess…" I trail off, feeling guilty. He stops me.
"Guilt and shame are wasted emotions. Never let anything else tell you differently," he says.
After David got Mia, Mirembe pulls me aside.
"That man… Drummer, I believe. He is meeting me here, and then he's helping me get on my feet. I don't think David is any mood to go to a welcome home party. And I think maybe Drummer can help him too-"
"I understand, go ahead. Do what you guys need to," I smile at her. She hesitates.
"It may be a couple days, or longer. I'm not sure what's going to happen," she shakes slightly, and I know why. The unknown is something to fear now. And I had a feeling it was going to be a lot longer than a couple days before she could come back. I put a hand on her shoulder.
"It'll be okay. Just get back in contact with me as soon as you can. And… take care of David," I say quieter so he doesn't hear me. She pulls me into a tight hug.
"Thank you, for everything, Brenna. I mean it," she hisses quietly, her throat choking with tears. I have to swallow loudly to keep from doing the same. David approaches.
"Goodbye for now?" I tell him, and he frowns deeper.
"I don't think I can handle any more goodbyes today. So, I'll see you… soon," he says. I nod, and he pulls me into a tight hug.
"I love you, Bren. I'll contact you when I can," he murmurs into my hair. I realize when he says this, that he was going off on his own for a while. He wanted to let the pain go on his own. I tighten my arms around him briefly, and then release him. I didn't realize how uncomfortable I was with being away from them. It had been two months, we spent every waking moment together. Through blood, sweat, and tears. They were like family.
"I love you guys too. Write, call, or even shout if you need me. I'll be there," I tell them, climbing into Barney's truck. They smile sadly, nodding. Tears pool in my eyes as Barney starts the truck. I felt my heart beginning to race, almost like a panic attack coming on, as we started to drive away slowly. I looked out the window waving as we drove off, and when I could no longer see them, I felt the tears in my eyes overflow and spill down my face. Barney doesn't say a word, but takes my hand.
"Ugh. I handled physical torture without having a mental breakdown. A funeral is what gets me," I joke weakly, wiping my eyes. Barney frowns.
"It takes more guts to let yourself feel the things that hurt the most. And what you've experienced was heartbreaking. I'm surprised you aren't worse," he mutters in a worried tone. Honestly, so was I.
"He… they deserve so much more than what they got, Barney. So much more," I hush, as tears continue to fall. He squeezes my hand. "God, why does this hurt so much?"
"You love him," he says simply. I frown.
"I love them," I correct. He sighs.
"True. But… you love David. Deep down," he says quietly. His assumption stuns me to silence. I didn't love David, not like that anyway.
"We went through something traumatic together. It brings people closer, quicker. But I don't love David. Not like that anyway," I tell Barney. He still looks unconvinced.
"You can't see it because you love Thorn more," he adds.
"Who says I love Thorn either?" I ask, bewildered by his blunt accusations. He gives me a look.
"In your darkest moments, the moments you felt the most alone and your lowest, who did you think about? Even though all of those twisted things were in your head about me and about us, who did you think about?" he asks. I recall the nights spent awake when David and Mira would eventually drift to sleep. I shudder.
"You. Thorn, Reagan," I admit. He shrugs simply.
"The people you love. No amount of attempted brainwashing can get rid of that," he says quietly, and he sound like he knows. I look at him.
"Even when I hated you the most, even when I was convinced you never wanted a damn thing to do with me, I still had this feeling… that somewhere, you were looking for me. I sat up every night, even though I hated everyone. I questioned if anyone ever thought of me," I mumble, mainly to myself. He nods.
"Every second," he whispers softly.
When I got back to Tool's garage, Barney parked out front. He started to get out of the truck but stopped when he noticed I wasn't moving.
"You ok?" he asks. I shake my head.
"Is it weird that I might be having a panic attack?" I breathe. Barney gets out and races around to the passenger side door. He opens it and the cool air against my face feels good.
"What for?"
"I don't know. Being back here. Leaving the people I sweat, bled, and cried with for the last two months. All of it is kind of crashing down right now," I try to breathe in, but I feel the familiar asthmatic clenching on my windpipe. I take a deep breath as much as I can, holding it in until I can let it out. But when Barney wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him, my breathing starts to mellow out. The panic starts to fade away, and eventually, I'm able to calm back down.
"Better?" he asks, pulling back. I nod, taking a deep breath in.
"Much. Thank you," I climb down from the truck, pausing at the door to the garage.
"Ready?" he asks. I shrug.
"Let's go," I sigh, pushing open the door.
A flurry of blonde hair rushes me as soon as I enter the door. Her arms wrap around me tightly, and I hiss.
"Reagan, I love you, but my stitches-"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" she trails off when she finally looks up and sees my face. She takes a step back and looks at me, a hand flying to her mouth in horror. I sigh.
"I know. I look like death. I'm fine though, come here," I open my arms again and she walks into them crying.
"Two months. I thought you were gone. You're my only family left," she cries quietly in my ear. I rub her back soothingly. When I look behind her, Tool is waiting his turn. I pull out of her arms and I'm instantly met with his.
"How're you feeling, darlin'?" he asks, and his familiar friendly and funny nature nearly pushes me over the edge again. I give him my best, fake smile.
"Starving," I tell him, and some people on the team laugh. But Tool sees through my distraction and eyes me warily. Thankfully, he doesn't comment.
Throughout the evening, I get reacquainted with the daily sights I saw before on a Friday night. Everyone drinking, laughing, knives being thrown at targets, crappy junk food, video games, and card games. I sat back in silence, though I used to get involved in some way, just drinking in the general happiness of the room. And even though I was surrounded by the people I had come to adore, the people that were happy to see me, I've never felt more alone in my life. And it made me feel incredibly selfish.
Thorn's POV
She sat by herself the majority of the night, looking blue. But she didn't seem to be in shock, nor did she seem freaked out by what had happened to her. I can understand why killing Church hasn't bothered her yet. He was a terrible man, and he needed to be taken out. The world was safer without him. I was happy that if she had to shoot anyone, it was him.
But there was something else bothering her, something deeper. Maybe it was the torture, the drugs, her physical pain. But whatever was on her mind right now was beyond that. I walked over to Barney, because I know asking her to talk about it won't get me anywhere.
"Barney… has she said anything to you..?" I ask, gesturing slightly to her. Barney looks over at his daughter, who's sitting at the kitchen bar counter staring off into space. He frowns.
"It's complicated, Thorn," he sighs, obviously wanting to avoid the subject. I huff, annoyed.
"Uncomplicate it. I'm worried," I hiss under my breath. Barney gives me his famous glare.
"Then go talk to her," he gestures to her. I sigh, walking over to her. She sees me coming and gives me a small, but fake, smile.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" I put my arms on either side of her, on the counter, trapping her. Then she gives me an actual grin. It surprises me.
"Fella done me wrong," she says, in her best vintage voice. I give her a coy look.
"Maybe you've got a bad taste in men," I murmur, returning her flirt. A small, subtle twinkle sparks in her eyes when she looks up at me. Her green eyes turn sultry, and full of sensual promise. I'm not expecting the sudden change in her demeanor, and it throws me off balance.
"He's not so bad, he just takes his time," she replies in a low voice. Her lips move proactively around the words, it's distracting. I smirk.
"So what's he done to you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. She gives me a crooked grin, and shrugs.
"Not a damn thing…" she leans in, putting her lips close to my ear, "And that's the problem," she murmurs. I gulp loudly, understanding now where she was going with this. The tension between us is palpable, and I find myself leaning in toward her.
"Not around me!" Barney yells across the garage, giving me a look. It breaks our spell and turns her face red, but she's still smiling. Which was my goal. I sit on the bar stool next to her, and she gives me a wink. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, hoping that it wasn't obvious what she was doing to me. She spies Reagan sitting on Smilee's lap, laughing with him, and smiles.
"I'm guessing that worked out?" she asks me. I shrug.
"I guess. I didn't pay much attention honestly," I tell her. She frowns.
"What did you do while I was gone then?" she turns to me, and I look at her like she's stupid.
"Sat my ass behind a computer screen 24/7, looking for you," I grumble, not wanting to discuss it. She takes my hand, smiling.
"Thank you," she tells me, and I can tell she means it. I pull her off her chair and into a hug. Having her in my arms again was unreal, it felt like a dream. And several times, it was just that, a dream. Or a nightmare. But feeling the warmth of her body against mine again, her arms wrapped around my waist, it was perfect.
"Now, are you actually going to tell me what's bothering you?" I ask her. She sighs.
"It was that obvious?" she frowns.
"Really obvious."
"I feel naked," she mutters. I try not to smirk, and I try not to crack a joke, but I can't help it.
"Well, I wish you were," I tell her, and she swats at me.
"Behave, or my dad will have words," she warns, giving me the Ross glare. I grin at her wolfishly.
"I mean, I feel naked because the people that I… Well… they got me through so much," she chokes quietly, and I can tell she's quite upset. I stroke her hair gently, avoiding the head wound.
"I know. But they need their space to get reacquainted with all of this. They haven't had freedom in years. It's only been two months for you. And I'm not saying it's different, but Mirembe just left her home behind and Davis lost his sister-"
"David," she corrects, and I frown.
"Yes. Anyway, you have this to come back to. It's not the same, and they probably need some time to get settled into a new place," I tell her, and she sighs.
"I know that. It's just… painful. Worse than any physical pain I've felt," I see a tear glisten on her cheek, and my frown deepens. She cares for these people an awful lot, and I can tell that she even loves them. Maybe a little too much for her own good.
Brenna's POV
"Ok, I'm going to attempt a shower," I say, getting up from the couch. Almost everyone had gone home, except for Doc, Thorn, Reagan, and Christmas.
"I don't trust you to not pull your stitches," Doc warns me. Reagan jumps up beside me.
"I'll do it. I've been dying to all night, you look like shit," she throws an arm around me as best she can, considering I tower over her. I glare down at her.
"You know, I've been shot. I'm a badass now, and I will hurt you," I warn her teasingly. She scoffs, and I can tell Barney was made uncomfortable by the statement. He didn't like talking about my injuries, I think he still blames himself. I was still mad, but I didn't blame him.
"Better you than me," she shrugs, and nudges me. I roll my eyes and laugh. Lord I missed this girl.
"I missed you, Rey," I sigh, letting her lead me upstairs.
"I missed you too, you fucking lunatic," she adds dryly. I hear Christmas laugh behind us.
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it Barney?" he asks, and Barney just puts his head in his hand.
After I got out of the shower, with Reagan's help, I felt worlds better except for my hair. It was matted and disgusting from lack of care in the last two months.
"I'm amazed you don't have lice. I don't even know what to do with this, Brenna," she grumps, trying to brush it. I shrug.
"Cut it off then," I tell her, and she freezes.
"Are you sure?"
"Just don't give me a hack job or make me look like a mom," I glare at her. But she's still staring at me in the mirror like I'm a monster.
"But you love your long hair," she chokes in surprise. I sigh, shrugging.
"A lot of things change for a lot of different reasons. At least this is easy to explain. My hair is gross, it'll grow back, just cut it out," I shrug simply. I think my nonchalance throws her off a moment more, but then she gets to work with cutting my hair the best she can. And when she's done, she steps back to admire her handy work. She grins.
"You look hot," she folds her arms proudly. I throw my head back and laugh. When I stand from the chair she placed me in and then toward the mirror, I freeze.
My hair was cut just above my collar bone, and it was layered in feathery wisps all around my head. She did a really great job. It finally looked decent, and before I would have hated the short hair. But now everything was so different and I needed the change. And this suited me better. Plus I looked like a bit of a badass. With the stitches on my temple and arm, and my tattoo fresh and clean.
"Reagan, I love this. Seriously," I turn around and hug her briefly, and she pulls down her sleeves quickly. I pull back and narrow my eyes.
"What are you hiding?" I demand. She sighs.
"I didn't want you to get mad and I didn't want you to think I was copying you-"
"What is it?" I pull up her sleeve and see my tattoo. With a twist of Reagan to it, with flowers and pink hearts on the skull. I look up at her, confused.
"I got sentimental and kind of tipsy while you were gone… and well… Tool did it," she admits. I just look at her, grinning.
"This is perfect. Now we really are sisters," I pull my sleeve, matching her wrist to mine. My tattoo was more of my personality, with less of a romantic feel than hers. But I still loved it. And now that I was back, I wanted to get a full arm sleeve. I'd talk to Tool about it later.
I change into a black tank top and dark grey jeans. I slide on my black boots and tie a grey hoodie around my waist just in case. Reagan frowns.
"Are you going to go all goth now?" she complains. I scoff.
"I wasn't before?" I ask, and she laughs. She picks up my dirty clothes, and something metal and small hits the floor. Huh, that's weird.
"What's this?" Reagan asks, holding up a ring with a note shoved in it. I recognize the opal stone and vintage band, and my heart constricts. I snatch it from her and read the note.
Brenna,
I'm sorry you have to read these words on paper instead of hearing them in person. If I was even half the person you were, I'd have the courage to just say them. But I'm not, and I'm truly sorry for that.
I think you know, or at least have a feeling, that it may be a while before I come back. And I know you'll feel alone. Mirembe will be back sooner, but until she does, take care of yourself. For me. You may feel alone, but never, ever believe that. The people that care about you will always listen to you. Just learn to open up to them again. It'll be hard, especially at first. But you're strong, so strong.
And though I can't say specifically why I'm leaving, please know that it's not your fault. I just need to work through some things in my head. I'm sure you understand.
I'm giving you my mother's ring for safe keeping- I'll be back for it someday. Think of it as an insurance policy, for a promise. I promise I'll come back, and I promise you'll get through this.
Lastly, I want you to know that I love you. More than you know. Please understand why I'm leaving, and please forgive me. I'll see you soon.
David
P.S
Try not to kill anyone in the meantime, ok?
Tears strike the page before I even realize I'm crying. Reagan frowns.
"What is it?" she reaches for the page, but I pull it away.
"It was just a goodbye letter. That's all. And I'm kind of sick of saying goodbyes," I tell her, smiling. She pulls me into a hug, and I know my distraction method worked.
"You won't have to anymore. I'll let you cool down and meet you downstairs," she grasps my arm firmly, and then walks out.
As soon as the door shuts, I collapse onto my bed. I re-read the note over and over, trying to find any double meanings or any hints. But there's nothing, just a chilling finality. The ring is still in my hand, and I put it on my middle finger since it's too big for my ring finger. It's pretty, the opal catches the light and reflects different greens and reds. I look back to the note.
I want you to know that I love you. More than you know.
Half of me wanted to believe that he meant that as a family or sisterly love. But, the other half that spent two months with someone who looked out for me, took care of me, and made me laugh when things got dark, said that he meant it the other way. I shook my head. I couldn't love him back, there was no way. I loved Thorn. I hadn't admitted to him yet, because I wasn't sure if there was a good time yet. But I loved him. I couldn't love David too. My heart twists upon even thinking his name, and not seeing him for a long time. A fresh bout of tears wells in my eyes as my heart and my head reach their final conclusion.
Barney was right. I did love David, but it was my fault Mia was killed. Barney came to rescue me. Church was after me. Mia could have been left out of this if I wasn't a bad luck charm to anyone around.
I swallow my sadness, dry my eyes, and take a moment to let the swollen lids go down. Then I head back downstairs. I couldn't let all the pain I felt rule my head. There was so much to feel so much to wade through. I understand why David needs to be alone. Because that's how I feel right now. But I know if I were to isolate myself, Barney and everyone else would just push at me harder. So for now, I had to pretend to be interactive and light. Until it was time to get pitch black.
When I walk downstairs, Tool looks up and whistles at me, fanning himself with his shirt.
"Damn honey," he hollers, being a goof. I roll my eyes. Barney, Doc, Christmas, and Thorn look up from their card game and stare for a moment. Reagan grins at me from her spot on the couch.
"Told you you looked hot," she gloats, putting her hands behind her head. I plop beside her on the couch, resting my leg that was aching. I rub the other areas of my body that are sore, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the nagging headache I had.
"I could give you painkillers, you know. They're pills. Not needles," Doc offers. A cold chill runs across my skin at the thought of anything drug-related being out in my body.
"No. I'm fine," I immediately say, closing the topic down before it starts. He opens his mouth, but hesitates. Then he gets up and walks over, sitting down next to Reagan and I.
"You know, for eight years… I endured the same thing. Not every single day like you. But I was a lab rat too. To this day, I still can't handle drugs," he tells me in a voice so low that only I can hear.
"I had no idea you'd ever been…" I trail off, and turn to Barney with a glare. "Never mind, I guess I wouldn't have known," I say a little louder and he looks up. He grimaces.
"Sorry, kid," he mumbles an apology, and looks back down at his hand.
"What else don't I know?" I ask.
"You mean asides from the fact that your dad kills people for a living, your beau does the same, and you've been living around a bunch of sociopathic mercenaries for like three months? Don't think so," Reagan says, and then freezes. I glare at her, a real one.
"You knew?!" I shout, making my head throb. Barney stands suddenly, ready to break up a fight if he needs to.
"Easy, Brenna," he says gently. I stand as well, distancing myself from Doc and Reagan on the couch. I turn my back to them, crossing my arms and trying to calm down. My best friend. She knew the whole time. Didn't say a goddamn word. She's supposed to be the person I know better than anyone, and I still didn't see she was keeping something. There were a few notable moments where she acted weird, but I always chalked it up to her and Smilee having problems. And I don't know what was holding it back before, but I finally snap. All the anger, betrayal, stress, and hard break surfaces and instead of breaking down like I thought I would, I just get angry.
"I didn't even detect you were lying. I didn't even see… and of all people, I should've been able to tell you were lying. I knew the whole time what Barney was up to. I didn't care. But come to find out he knew why my mother died for months, and didn't say a goddamn word?! How the fuck am I supposed to trust anyone in my fucking life if you keep giving my reasons to constantly second guess myself? How am I supposed to learn to trust people, how am I supposed to trust myself if I can't even see when the people I love most are lying to me? What kind of relationship do I have with you people if I can't even see these things? Am I just fucking stupid?!" I roar, whirling around. Reagan blanches, remaining quiet. Everyone has been stunned to silence by my vehement anger. Barney approaches me slowly.
"Brenna, you're gonna give yourself an aneurism. Calm down-"
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! I was kidnapped, starved, injected with god only fucking knows what, cut open, stabbed, bled, shot, and tortured. I watched the most important person that got me through the last two months lose his only will to live, and somehow keep breathing. I watched the dead bodies pile up in the lab every goddamn day! I watched my own two hands put four bullets in a revolting man's chest, and you know what bothers me most about that? The fact that it doesn't! The fact that I'm perfectly fine with that part of all of this fucked up shit! It doesn't bother me one damn bit and you want to know what else? I'm glad I took the shot, it was extremely satisfying-"
"Brenna, stop," he steps forward again and I step back instinctively. I can see the panic in his eyes, and the worry. He's been expecting this breakdown for a while. But I continue anyway.
"No, listen. The only relief I have felt within the last two months is the sound his body made when it hit the concrete. And I wanted more. I wanted to hear the screams he would scream, I wanted to hear the pleas he would plead when I got even with him. That is what bothers me. Because I am perfectly okay with those thoughts. And that's not fucking normal! And I'm expected to calm down? How do people like me just live day to day being okay with thinking like a sociopath? How do I learn to deal with this? How… how am I expected to breathe?" I choke, nearly in tears by the time I'm done screaming my head off. But they were tears of anger. Everyone stares at me, not saying a word. Barney looks mortified, and I know he's probably disappointed with how I'm handling this. He's probably used to the feeling, and thinks it's normal and okay for him. In fact, everyone in my life except Reagan thinks this was normal. And I couldn't talk to Reagan, especially about this. She wouldn't understand and I felt totally alone. I tried to push through it, ignore it, go back to normal. But I tried it for less than a day, and I've already blown a gasket. I missed Mira and David, Mia would still be alive if it weren't for my presence, and everything was on my shoulders and I couldn't take it anymore. I launch myself in the direction of my room, but Barney grabs my forearm.
"Brenna, I understand that you're angry. But revenge isn't how you fix this," he says, giving me a vacant stare with his black eyes. Briefly, I recognized the same black heart that beat within my own chest. My jaw clenches as I realize how similar we are now. I yank my arm from his iron grasp.
"What's the point? The person that deserved is already dead," I meet his eyes, and he looks shocked by what he sees. I think he finally sees the depth of hatred that burns in my soul. He steps back.
"That's a dark path you're headed down, kid," Tool says from behind me. I stare at the ground for a moment, then turn to face him slowly. His black eyes show me the same thing I saw in Barney's. I shake my head slightly.
"You want to save me?" I ask him, turning back to Barney with the same inquiry. He narrows his eyes slightly, not understanding where I'm going with this. He nods slightly, and Tool repeats the same motion. Liars. I stalk off toward the stairs, but pause at the bottom, turning slightly back toward them.
"Too late," I mutter, and walk upstairs.