Halloween horror came early, my dear readers.
Song of the Chapter: I won't see you tonight-Avenged Sevenfold
(25)
I slowly pushed the door open to Stephen's room, a mug of coffee clutched in my hands. I let out a deep exhale, pausing on my steps and looking at Stephen. He was leaning against the work table, arms crossed above his chest and shoulders sagged, his face contorted to a mask of pain. I felt my chest tighten.
"Steph?" He looked up as I called him, immediately switching to a poker face. I shook my head. He knew better than to fool me. No matter what Brock did, he was still his brother. "Drink this. It will feel better if you're gonna have to be awake the whole day."
He took the mug from me, setting it on the table not even sparing a glance at it. Then his hands curled on my hips, pulling me closer and buried his face against my neck. I rubbed the back of his neck, kissing his shoulder. "It's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright. I'm sure Brock will be okay."
"How do you know?" his voice cracked at the end, and I had to hold myself from crying with him.
"The thing that matter is that I know. Not how," his arms tightened around me.
"How…" he gulped. "How was it like to lose your mom and dad?"
I frowned. "You haven't lost anyone, Stephen. You need to stop thinking too much. It only creates more problems." He nodded against my neck and pulled back, pursing his lips as his eyes roamed over my face. His eyes were a jaded green, not the oak leaf green he usually had. I remembered the color well; because that jaded green which highlighted the hazel specks around his iris emitted that he was trying to force sadness back into the depth of his heart. That color reflected the first time I figured out that there was some emotion in this man, except for the ruthless and aggressive maneuvers. I rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes and enjoying the little time we had before he left.
"I'm sorry I was a dick last night," he apologized, his voice sincere. But it didn't matter now. Because Hunter was gone. Possibly for the rest of my life. I opened my eyes, averting them downwards not looking at him. He caught my chin, softly tugging at it. "Please don't be mad."
Why did you have to apologize, Stephen? It was me who ruined mine and Hunter's relationship. Not you. Still, I couldn't part my lips to talk about him.
"If you want I'll call and apologize for him," it didn't matter now, Stephen. It won't make any change. "Please, don't-"
"Stephen," I tried to pull away, but he didn't let go. "Stop," I placed my finger tips on his lips. "We should be concerned about Brock now."
"But-"
"Hush, now," I whispered, guiding his head back onto my shoulder. I struggled to not think about the wrenching feeling in my heart, but the constant vibes of pain was making it difficult for me to. It was a few minutes later when the distant sound of a knock on the door was heard that we pulled apart, Stephen's arms reluctantly leaving me. Mr. Farrelly's muffled sound of that he's ready to leave made it certain that it was indeed time for Stephen to go. "Why can't I come?" I questioned, watching him zip up his duffel bag and swing it over his shoulder.
"Mom's alone… Dad doesn't want to take her in case something happens," I nodded, dragging myself behind him as he made his way to the door. "You'll be careful till I come, won't you?" he turned to me, catching my hand.
I gave another nod, tilting his head down with my hand to kiss him. He suddenly dropped the bag, lifting me up and slamming me back against the door, a whimper escaping my lips as his lips crashed down on me. I let him take over; I knew that he needed it, the comfort, the strength and control. It was hard for me to breathe, but I didn't complain. His fingers dug into my thighs, teeth biting down on my bottom lip harshly. I cried out, and he released my lips, pressing his face against my neck and breathing again. Panting, I threw my head back and rested against the door as he held on.
"I have to go," he set me down after a moment, stealing another kiss before tearing his hands away from me. It was as if he kept them a little longer, he wouldn't be able to make himself leave. I walked to the window, watching them leave. Evan, Rosa and the crew was gone for the holidays; they left the house early this morning after the party. It was only four in the morning, as I watched Mr. Farrelly and Stephen leave in the limo, on their way to the spot where the SUV that Brock left slipped off the wet road. Just like how mom and dad…. I sighed in condolence. I really wished he was fine.
The officer who got there first hadn't given any details, except that the car had crashed against a tree after slipping down a hill. It sounded like there was no hope, but I never let Stephen think that. At least that's what I had tried to convince him, since the news first came in. No one knew about it. Not even John, not even Dean. John went with Dean last night, saying that he was going to spend the night with him. And they were engaged. As much as I wanted to be happy for them, I just couldn't get my head wrapped around a happy thought for the time being. Not with Brock being hurt, not with Hunter gone. I took the coffee in my hand, taking a sip from it.
A slight grimace turned the corners of my mouth down. It was good that Stephen hadn't drunk that. I had forgotten to add sugar to it. Gulping down two more mouthfuls because it felt heaven when the hot liquid wet my dry throat despite how it tasted like, I went downstairs. Mrs. Farrelly was sitting on the couch, her face hidden behind her hands as she sobbed quietly. I tiptoed to the kitchen, throwing the half drank coffee away and making some hot cocoa, both for myself and Mrs. Farrelly. And I made it certain that I put sugar in it.
"Mrs. Farrelly?" I sat down beside her, and waited until he wiped away the tears that ran down her blue eyes. She took the offered mug, muttering a 'thank you'. She took a sip from it and then paused, wondering, and then took another sip. Did I screw up again?
"It's good," she sighed into the mug, drinking a good mouthful. I gave a small smile, sipping my own one.
"You look tired," I started. "You should get some sleep. I can wake you up if they called."
She thought for a few seconds and then looked at me. "We both should get some sleep, you already have your eyes half-closed," she attempted to chuckle half-heartedly. I did?
"Stephen wore me out," I said, not really thinking what I had said. And then I froze, realizing. Mrs. Farrelly's hand closed around mine, gently squeezing. It was her way of saying that she supported me, I understood it after the few conversations I had with her. And I squeezed back. "Brock will be home in no time."
"Yes," she rested her head on the headrest of the couch, closing her eyes. I bit my lip, whether I should ask of a certain something from her. Then I decided to shoot anyway.
"Mrs. Farrelly," she opened her eyes. "Do you happen to know why Brock wanted to leave so suddenly?"
She stared at me for a full minute, searching for something with her tired eyes. "Will you tell me the truth?" that question got me in a knot of confusion. But nonetheless, I nodded. "Was there something between you and Brock?" a lump formed in my throat.
"I…. We did…. But it's not what you think," I quickly added when her expression changed. "I wanted to help him. I figured that….Brock had some…problems and I wanted to help him with them. It was out of pity. Not anything else. But," I sighed, screwing my eyes shut. "I guess he took it the wrong way…"
"I see…" she placed the empty mug on the stool in front of the couch. "Brock has… Bipolar disorder with anger issues. He has had it since he was a kid and… it wasn't something that any of us could control or handle. Owen wanted to cure it. He sent Brock for rehab, it was actually a mental institution," her voice trembled. There was so much to take in what she has just revealed but I couldn't help thinking that she was leaving out some of the most important facts. But I didn't push her. At least she told me this. "He didn't come back until years later. And it was after your wedding. That night when we decorated the Christmas tree and you fell off the stool…. The way Brock caught you before you fell and how he looked at you….." her eyebrows furrowed.
My head started to pound like crazy. I placed the mug away because my hands were shaking so hard.
I waited till my back hit the floor, my face scrunched up, my hands balled to fists. But no, nothing happened. "I got you," my eyes snapped open, and I realized Brock was holding me. Bridal style. In front of his parents and Evelyn. I quickly settled onto my feet, fixing my sweater and awkwardly looked at all of them.
I gasped as realization hit me. "He thought… he thought…."
"Yes," Mrs. Farrelly nodded. "But that's not why Brock left. Owen thought it was a good idea to ask from Brock if there was something between the two of you. When Brock didn't say anything Owen suspected that there really was something and wanted him to leave the house because he felt like that might come between you and Stephen. Brock threw a fit. He almost hit Owen…." Mrs. Farrelly sobbed again, and I felt my heart clenching, at the same time my head spun. "All this time… he had been hiding it from us. His illness wasn't cured. It can't be cured. But Owen told him to go back to rehab…"
"I'm not saying that what Mr. Farrelly did was wrong…. He just….chose to do it on the wrong day, at the wrong time."
Mrs. Farrelly let out a shattered breath. "If something happens to Brock… I'll never forgive him." I wrapped an arm around her, trying to sooth.
"He didn't mean for anything like this to happen, Mrs. Farrelly. I'm sure Brock is alright…" And I hoped so. The fact that Brock had a mental illness explained it all. Those mood swings, anxiety attacks, and those moments where he'd acted...not so human. I shivered. And when he had no one else to turn to, I turned to him. I had lent him a helping hand and he had thought that I'd lent him my...heart. His fear of losing me became his obsession of keeping me as his. I had missed the moment where I should've turned my back to him.
"Are you okay?" Someone touched my hand and it took me a moment to realize that it was Mrs. Farrelly. I had been in another world. Nodding, I gave an assuring smile to her.
"Just tired... I think we talked enough," I grabbed the empty mugs. "Go and have some rest, I'll tell you if they call."
She handed me a phone which I guessed was hers. "Keep this. I won't be here when you wake up. I'll be at the church. Don't worry if I take hours to come back."
"What about Evelyn?"
"I'll take her with me," Mrs. Farrelly said standing up.
I gave a nod, taking the phone from her hand. I stopped believing in God when my parents died leaving me alone in this world. But if this was her way of gaining faith then I had no protest against her. Quickly washing the mugs, I shoved the phone in my jean pocket before going to my room. Sleep was weighing my eyes down like a ton of iron.
I fell asleep just when my head hit the pillows.
When I woke up it was to the sound of the door bell ringing. The deep dinging sound rang through my skull and I groaned in annoyance as it rang again. But then I remembered Brock... What if it was someone with some information? I jumped off the bed, swinging the door open and sprinted down the stairs almost tripping on my feet twice. It was a wonder I got to the front doors in one piece.
"Hello," the person said as I opened the door in haste. My eyes widened, my jaws nearly dropping in surprise.
It was... It was that guy who interrupted Stephen's video call when he was back in Greece.
"Um, I said hello?" he awkwardly smiled, and I blinked.
"Hi," I said, opening the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"
He cocked an eyebrow. Well, wasn't that how I was supposed to treat Stephen's business partners? "No, thank you; I'm in a hurry. I was actually on my way to meet Stephen in his office but then I remembered it was Christmas," he chuckled, his light blue eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. "So... If you don't mind, can you call him out?"
I shifted my weight to the other foot. "I'm sorry, he's not home. He went...out with his dad a couple of hours ago."
"Oh," he arched an eyebrow again looking me up and down. "You're his husband right?" I nodded. "Do you know who I am?"
I shook my head. "Not really... I mean, I saw you once when you...came to Stephen's room when we were in a video call."
"You don't seem even phased by the fact that I went to Stephen's room," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
"Should I be?" I narrowed my eyes.
"No, no," he said quickly, and ruffled his hair again like he was trying to show me his engagement ring. I saw. But still, a bond like that didn't stop some people from cheating...or trying to cheat. "I'm just amazed by how you fully trust him. Stephen, especially with a history like that," he motioned with his eyes. My guts twisted.
"I don't judge people by their past," my voice was flat, and it clearly showed that I didn't like the road this conversation was heading.
"Well, when he comes please tell him that I came by," he waved me and then paused, turning back. "I almost forgot... My name is Cody Runnels-Rhodes."
He smirked knowingly as I softly gasped. He knew that I knew him. Runnels... The part of his name that Stephen's aunt Matilda almost revealed at that dinner. Stephen's ex-lover. Then his face twisted into fear, and muttering a good-bye he rushed down the marble staircase, and got into his car. What went wrong so suddenly? Shaking my head as he drove away, I waited till he disappeared through the gates to close the door. The sound of the door plates connecting with each other echoed through the empty house highlighting the eerie silence. I shivered; feeling like someone threw a bucket of cold water at me.
I yawned, so tired that I could fall asleep. But I couldn't. It was almost nine, which meant a call from Stephen was possible sooner or later. I went to the kitchen, checking the house phone for any voice mails but I found none. Even Mrs. Farrelly's phone didn't have any miss calls or messages. I furrowed my brows in confusion. Whatever had happened it-
I yelped in fear when arms surrounded my waist, pulling me against a chest. I wriggled, clawing at the person's hand and then I realized... It was him. Cody ran away because of him.
"Brock?!" I spun around, completely and utterly stunned. "You're... You're..."
"I'm here," he awkwardly smiled, stretching out his hands. I wrapped my arms around him, my mind running everywhere as I gave him a hug. My eyes roamed everywhere they could possibly reach to see if he was hurt, but no, he was as fit as a fiddle.
"How did you..." I trailed off, my heart jumping to my throat at the smirk that spread across his face. That look didn't suit him.
"I got off the car half-way," he shrugged. "That dick of a guy said he can't drive me back. So I had to let him leave without me." That smirk on his face widened, and I felt a tinge of darkness etched to it. He caught my hand, dragging me to the living room, sitting on the couch and pulled me onto his lap. It felt weird; it didn't settle with me that not only I was sitting on another man's lap and that it was Brock. Brock; who we all thought was hurt.
I squirmed, showing him with my actions that I didn't like this position we were in but it wasn't he who even budged at it. My heart boomed in my ears, the pace of it increasing as seconds passed by with his touches. I had to stop struggling because with every one of my protesting moves his arms around me tightened some more. "I know why you were sent away..." I started, and he shifted his gaze to somewhere else other than my face for the first time since he came here. "But... Why are you back?" It sounded rude but...
"You don't want me here?" he attempted to get up but I stopped him.
"I didn't say that Brock," I made my tone as soft as possible. "I'm just asking why."
"How could you even think I'd survive without you?"
The whole fucking world around me stopped. "Huh?"
"I can't," he shook his head, pressing his forehead against my temple. "I can't go there again... And leave you..."
I screwed my eyes shut, my hands curling on his chest. This wasn't good. "Brock, you can't-" I froze, and clasped my hand over his mouth just when his lips were about to connect with mine. "No."
He glared, grabbing my wrist and forcing it down. "Why not?!" His voice was challenging at the same time growling. And it wasn't that growl Stephen did either, this was coated with some twisted emotion as well as sickening feelings.
"I'm married," I whispered, sliding out of his arms expertly as his mind was on another thing. "I can't be with you in that way..."
"That's bullshit. Stephen's fucking whores all the time yet you stay with him no matter what-"
"That's because I love him, Brock," I snapped, unable to stand the cool mask I had been having for the past few minutes.
"And you don't love me?" his eyes were wide; hopeful but there was nothing for me to do except tell him the truth.
"I'm sorry if you felt that way," I looked away, taking out the phone. "We need to tell Stephen that you're okay. He and your dad-"
"No!" Brock suddenly jumped out of the couch, and I almost dropped the phone. "They can't know about this," he gulped; looking nervous despite the hurt that I caused was still evident on his face. "If they know they will take me away."
"They're searching for you, Brock. They're scared for you. They went to where the car was crashed…." It sounded so wrong as I spoke those words.
Brock snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure they're scared for me. Don't call them; they'll be around here soon when they find out that I'm not there."
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I didn't like the tone Brock used to speak, like he was trying to hide something that was not so pleasant. My stomach churned. I needed a moment to get away. "Alright then. You hungry?" A blinding smile stretched his lips as he nodded. Poor man, I wanted to say but that would ignite the dangerous sparks in his mind some more. Mumbling him to stay here, I hurried to the kitchen. In a rush I cracked a few eggs to a bowl, beating them half-way to make sure that if Brock peeked in, that I'd have something to show him. Glancing back at the kitchen entrance, I took out Mrs. Farrelly's phone, searching through the contact list to find Stephen's number.
Dialing the digits, the call went straight to the voice mail. I cursed inwardly, and tried again. Why did he choose this time to ignore the fucking call? After the fourth time, I gave up. It was no use. I'd have to try again later. Then I tried Mr. Farrelly's number, and the line was engaged. i sighed in defeat. Did they have no signal or… just as I dropped the phone on the counter, it rang loudly. My heart almost burst out of my chest as I turned it to the silent mode, my eyes constantly shifting to the kitchen entrance to see if Brock was coming or not. Then I looked at the phone screen, noticing it was Stephen who was calling.
"Stephen?"
"Randy?! Where are you?" His frantic voice made my breathing stop. There was definitely something wrong.
"I'm… I'm at home. Your mom left to church with Evelyn-"
"Baby, Brock is not here…" his voice trembled. "He's not-"
"I know," I said, chewing on my bottom lip. "He's here. He said he-"
"Randy, I need you to get out of that house as soon as possible," I heard some noises in the background, which sounded like he was getting in a vehicle. "Go wherever possible. Just don't stay in that house, not with him."
"What's going on?" I whispered, the furious beating of my heart making it unable for me to concentrate.
"He….. He killed the driver, Randy," I braced myself against the counter, slowly sliding to the floor. "The guy's throat was cut out. You're in that house with a murderer!"
"Oh my god," was all I could say, as I felt the world spinning around me. Trembling, I rested my head against the ground cupboard beside me, my head spinning as dizziness took me over.
"What the fuck are you still doing?! Get out-"
"Wait," I whispered, opening my eyes. The house was way too silent for my liking. Swallowing hard, I moved hesitantly, just to peek an eye at the kitchen entrance. I gasped out loud, almost dropping the phone as my eyes met Brock, who was standing in the doorway, his face twisted in rage. I heard Stephen's dread filled voice calling out my name and I gripped the phone in my hand tightly, afraid to let the little comfort I had gone. And the call disconnected accidentally. I looked at the phone, and back to Brock, and back to the phone. I knew I was fucked; it would be a wonder if I got out of this place alive.
Brock walked over to me and crouched down, his face blank all of a sudden. And it made my blood run cold, just from that poker face he pulled on. His steel eyes washed over me like he was seeing me for the first time, or the last time, taking everything in. his thumb trailed down my jaw, and I had to stop myself from cringing away from him. The phone started to ring, and he took it from my hand, looking at the screen. The corners of his lips twitched, and it was of dark humor. I pressed my back against the cupboard behind me, putting as much distance between me and him.
"Did I not tell you not to call him, Randal? Hmm?" his voice was soft as his eyes connected with mine.
"I… i-"
"And now you know everything," he tsked, his finger tips touching my trembling lips. "But this is not the reaction I expected… Don't you like what I did?" was he asking me that if I liked him killing a man?
"Why d-did you do it?" I whispered, inching away from him.
"I had to do it…for you," my breath hitched as my chest clenched painfully, when he stood up. He offered me his hand for me to take so he could help me stand up. I stared at that hand with horror filled eyes; that might be the hand he used to kill the man…for me. "I had to do it to reach you."
I let out a shattered breath, my fists clenching as I hung my head. It killed me on the inside that I had inspired a killer within Brock. "You didn't ha-have to ki-kill that man, Brock. He was innocent."
"He tried to stop me from coming back to you," he snapped and I flinched violently, when he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up. "I murdered for you. Do you still not understand how much I care about you?"
I snatched my hand away, glaring. "You can't take love by force. Why can't you understand that? Have I ever behaved in that type of idea with you, Brock? Have I?"
"But… all those nights you slept with me… all those times you helped me to control myself…."
"Do you even hear yourself?!" I shrieked. "I only helped you, Brock. Nothing more, nothing less. If I ever had or have an emotion for you it will only be sympathy."
Brock's grey eyes roamed everywhere, stopping nothing in particular as his fists clenched and unclenched. I was waiting for that moment he'd kick me to death. While he seemed to be swirling his mind in another world, I tried to crawl out of the spot, choosing the other side of the kitchen table to hide myself. When I reached the entrance of the kitchen, I quickly stood up and slipped out, hurrying towards the front door. A second before I touched the front door, Brock's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me back as I whimpered. "No… Let me go-"
"Not that easily, Randal," he hissed, dragging me back as I squirmed in his death hold. It took me a few moments to realize that he was dragging me to his bedroom. I whimpered in dread, my wriggling causing his steps to falter. I grabbed the stair case rail for support but Brock only had to yank me once to have me back on his shoulder, my nails grazing the wood, scratching the skin off my finger nails as I hissed in pain.
"Please," I begged, kicking my legs in the air and unbelievably to my luck, one kick hit his abdomen, and with a grunt his hold on me loosened. I slid off his shoulder, shoving him as hard as I can and attempted for a run. The next second pain shot through my spine as my back crashed against the wall, my shoulder blades vibrating pain and I almost blacked out. Another crash and blinding pain flashed through my shoulder and chest. Another hit, and I was out.
When I opened my eyes again, it was when someone called my name. I blinked, trying to shake the blur in my eyes away as I focused on where I was. I was on a soft surface which I assumed was Brock's bed and I could neither move my legs, or my arms. I whined in pain, as every little movement of my body sent jolts of pain up my right arm. I blinked a few more times, hearing that person calling my name. I opened my mouth to say something but then I realized that it wasn't Brock. Brock was standing by his closed bedroom door, his fists clenched as he listened on. Was it… was that Wade? My arms were tied to the headboard despite one f my arms probably being dislocated and my legs were tied together by the ankle too with torn bed sheets. And I was fully naked. I parted my lips again to scream an answer but then I realized what Brock had in his hand. A pocket knife. The same knife he had used on the driver, with dried blood still smeared the sharp blade.
No…
No….
"Brock, no, please leave him alone!" I hissed, tears pooling in my eyes. Wade didn't have to be a part of this. He turned to me, putting his index finger on his lips and telling me to shush as he twisted the door knob, sliding out f the room slowly. Oh, God…. I didn't hear anything. No sounds of struggling, no sounds of painful cries. I held my breath, listening intently to whatever was happening out there.
Nothing.
Just nothing.
I tried to twist my ankles to no avail. I tugged the knot that was tied to the headboard but with what I did, it only tightened the knot more. Cursing I wriggled on the bed carefully not wanting to hurt my arm more and managed to sit up, my arms shooting jolts of pain up my shoulders when I straightened my numb spine. Fuck, it hurt. I slid up the bed until the pain in my shoulders lessened and leaned up against the headboard, closing my eyes and panting. Mrs. Farrelly's phone sat on the nightstand. It was so close, yet so far that I could not reach.
I refused to cry. It was my fault that I was in this situation right now and I had a chance... One last chance that I could run for but instead I unintentionally chose to stay to hear the details. It was my fault. I didn't notice that Brock has returned until he came to the bedroom from the bathroom, shirtless. I drew my knees up to my chest, crawling into a ball. As if it would help.
"Wha-what did you do t-to Wade?" I stuttered, feeling the urge to puke as Brock's lips stretched into a sickening smirk.
"He's fine, don't you worry," he waved me away, working on his shoes. Fear gripped me in its icy cold claws. What was he doing? Noticing the look on my face, Brock cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you afraid? You've done this before haven't you?"
"Done what?" I squeaked.
"Fucking my brother," he said casually shrugging. The claws of fear squeezed the life out of my heart. "You can do it again, with me. The only difference is that this will be better."
"No," I snapped, "I don't want to do it! Why can't you get it through your head that no matter what you do I can't... I won't love you in the way you expect me to, Brock?"
It was only a flash of second that had passed. Brock was in front of me, my balled figure pressing hard against the headboard as he leaned in and gripped my jaw, his fingers digging to my jaw bones. I whimpered when he hissed in my face.
"If you can't give it I'll get it," he spat, his voice a tone of menace. "This wasn't a choice of whether you will like it or not, Randal. It was mine. You know, at this time I hate myself. Loath myself. Why? Because you're just like Runnels. The only reason I returned was to continue the vow I had made for Stephen. But your behavior changed it. Just like Runnels did. Leading me on, playing with my emotions. At least Runnels did that for money. But you... You're just a downright bitch who played with people's emotions just for fun."
"No," I whispered, tears filling my eyes threatening to fall out. "That's not true."
Brock chuckled bitterly, and then his hand shot across my face. My head whipped to the side. "How much time, did you think, that it had spent me to make up my mind not to kill you and let Stephen face the public? Let him think that it was his fault that an innocent life was lost, huh? And then I had to go and fall for you," Brock chuckled again moving away and working on his jeans. "But… it seems like I won't get the latter from your side. So I might as well switch to my first motive."
"Brock, please…." I begged openly crying, not even caring that the pain shooting up my arm was threatening to take me out again.
"It feels good to be back myself, you know. So I might as well enjoy this myself," he said, as I looked away with tears streaming down my cheeks when he got naked.
I was sorry.
Sorry that I couldn't save myself for Stephen.
Sorry that I had failed in everything.
XXXX
Stephen's POV
"God damn it, pick up the fucking phone!" I roared into the mobile in my hand out of dread. Neither Randy, nor Wade was answering their phones. My guts twisted, as I felt nausea. What if something had gone wrong? Dean had done his job, taken Evelyn and mom under his wing but Wade… I didn't know what to do. My eyes ran wildly around the road, cursing every time a car crossed my path. I didn't even have time to explain things to dad when I had jumped in the car, leaving both him and the driver behind as I sped up to the house.
I should've known that something like this would happen. Brock was too smart; too deceitful to let God win. I should've never forgotten that he was capable of doing something. Especially when he had promised me that he'd never make me rest in peace for the rest of my life. And that included torturing the ones I cared about. "Fuck," I muttered, when I dialed to mom's phone, which Randy had. Turning a violent turn on the road, I entered the border to St. Louis. Thirty minutes more and please, let Randy be okay.
"Hello, little brother," Brock chuckled into the phone, just as I opened my mouth to talk. I felt like I was drowning under an ice sea.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I shouted, hearing small whimpers from Randy in the background. His voice was muffled, like Brock was choking him.
"Having some fun with your beloved, brother," he said, deep satisfaction coating his voice as Randy yelled again. My heart wrenched, chest tightening in fear. "He's such a cute little-"
"Don't you fucking dare to put your filthy hands on him!" I snarled, my free hand on the steering wheel shaking from the force of rage.
"Oh," his wondered. "But I already have my hands on him! In fact, I have more than just a hand on him."
I gritted my teeth in barely suppressed rage. I had to keep myself under control to get to the house in time. But Randy's screams wasn't letting me to. He was in pain. He was in fucking agony. "You bastard!"
"Come on, little brother. That's all you've got? I'm feeling how tight your dearest wrapped around me and you're there muttering baby insults at me," he groaned, as Randy screamed a pleading.
"I'm going to rip your filthy throat out and feed it to you, when I get my hands on you," I hissed, something moist filling my eyes as I heard Randy sobbing uncontrollably asking Brock to end the call. Because he didn't want me to hear him. Fuck.
"The keyword is 'when,' brother. And remember, it's your entire fault that this is happening to your precious Randal," he chuckled, the sinister laughter coursing cold shivers down my spine.
"Steph…phen…" Randy sobbed, and a dull thud was heard. But he call went on. Tears spilled from my eyes as I heard Randy's weak sounds of suffering and I wanted to kill myself. Brock was right on one thing. This was my entire fault. I let the phone drop from my hand, unable to let myself hear Randy's pleadings. Gritting my teeth, I pushed down on the gas pedal. If I didn't kill Brock on the spot, I wouldn't be Stephen Farrelly, I forced back the sobs that threatened to roll out of my chest, determined to stay strong for Randy.
It took me more time than I needed to get to the house. Not even cutting the engine of the car, I jumped out of the seat, sprinting towards the house. My feet carried me to Randy's room, but he wasn't there. I tried mine, he wasn't there either. I had to waste a moment before realizing that he would be in Brock's room. I forced myself to pause in the corridor, just to check if Wade was hurt, but it seemed like he was just unconscious. When I kicked open Brock's bedroom, he was buttoning up his jeans with a satisfied smirk on his face.
I saw red.
Dashing to him I punched the shit out of his face, managing to knock him down to the floor. I was able to take him by surprise, raining punch after punch down on his face. The fucker didn't even remember how to block the blows. I snarled as I knocked him out, climbing off him and hurrying to the bed.
"Baby?" I breathed, taking the pocket knife that was on the night stand and cutting out the ties of his ankles and wrists. I looked in horror, as his right arm twisted in an awkward way, as I cradled his head against my chest. His eyes were open, irises running here and there wildly and unresponsive. I choked. "Randy?" his beautiful eyes settled on my face as if subconsciously, only for a second and then drifted off again. I took a shattered breath, kissing his temple and out of the corner of my eye, I caught something.
Something red…
"Oh my god," I whispered, and watched as a large red spot on the blankets under his body enlarged. I lifted him carefully onto my lap, supporting his broken shoulder. My other hand travelled to his back, feeling the blood seeping out of a cut… cuts that were carved into his flesh.
MINE.
Please, please guys, I want all of you to review! I want to hear every one of your love/hate thoughts of this story! I even updated a day earlier!