~* Indigo: Series Two *~

XVII

"Did they haul you out?"

~ Twelve Years Ago ~

Thursday, March 13th, 2008

Union Ave, Apartment 3R: Providence, RI

4:47 PM, EDT

Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law
Lawman has put an end to my runnin', and I'm so far from my home
Oh mama, I can hear you a'cryin, you're so scared and all alone
Hangman is comin' down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

She spins. Long brown hair flying around her. Like tangled yarn unkempt in a basket. A warm room surrounds her. Deep blue walls and a stone gray carpet. A small wooden table sits in the corner. Fine carvings of vines and flowers cover the entirety of it. Her grandfather's work. There's a window to the right, open currently. The drapes ease from side to side as the cool air drifts through. She laughs, a smile as bright as the sun. Burning and energetic, like a crackling fire. The rocking chair creaks as her grandmother shifts her weight, back and forth. Softly singing her favorite song, she watches her only granddaughter dance in the middle of the room.

She was quite good, even just for a nine year old.

"Do you know the story?" Her grandmother asked her.

Still dancing in the sunlight, she cocked a brow, blue eyes now wide with curiosity. "Story?"

"Of your name."

The girl laughed, tucking a wavy strand behind her ear. "There's a story about my name?"

"When the world was once run by fire, there were those who were chosen to endure the gift of the gods. The gift of the dragon."

She laughs again, this time louder. She spins around, facing her grandmother. "Dragon?! But dragons aren't real, grandma."

Her grandmother scoffs. "Of course they're real! They are as real as dinosaurs!" She leans in, whispering now. "And their blood is a rarity one can only hope to be blessed with. And you are named after one of the very first, my dear."

She paused. A silence falling across the two of them. The little girl, just quietly taking in her grandmother's words. Small breaths, soft breeze. She fiddled with her hands, eyes narrowed now, almost scrutinizing. Her grandmother wasn't necessarily that old, but the worry lines and overuse of drugs said otherwise. Looking as if she were in her 70s, despite the fact that she was about to have her 59th birthday in just a few short months. Short white hair with two small curls on the side. Imperfections, scars and wrinkles cover her pale face. Two glossy blue eyes that had seen more death then she's comfortable with. With a scarf wrapped around her neck, and a quilted blanket across her lap, she leaned forward and brushed a wild strand of hair away from her granddaughter's face.

"You're a dragon, Calianna." She whispered.

The little girl contemplated, thinking. Always thinking. Sometimes her brother said she had a mind greater than all of MIT put together. A genius, he called her. He said there'd be a spot waiting for her there, when she got older. She didn't know if she wanted it yet.

The front door opened then, loud and jarring. Barrelling in, arms both overflowing with shopping bags, was a woman. Dark hair, pulled high into a ponytail with a thousand curls spilling out. A long brown coat, worn and weathered. The bottom had water stains from all the times she ran to the bus stop in the rain. She huffed as she placed the grocery bags on the old wooden kitchen table.

"What stories is she filling your head with now?" She shouts over her shoulder, shrugging off her coat.

"Grandma says I'm a dragon." Calianna gleamed.

The dark harried woman just glanced in her daughter's direction. "Grandma also did cocaine for 25 years, honey."

"Oh, hush it, you." The old woman shouts from the rocking chair. She grumbles, "Where's the clicker?"

"You threw it across the room, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Go get it for grandma."

Calianna sighs before doing as she's told. Handing her grandmother the remote before disappearing into the kitchen.

A can of tomato soup falls from the table, rolling out of the plastic shopping back and landing directly at her feet. The dark haired woman yells over her shoulder as she continues to empty the grocery bags. "You gonna stand there or help ya mother?"

"Ugh," Vibrant blue eyes roll in a full circle. The same color as her mother's. "Do I have to? There's not even that many-"

"Calianna….." Her mother just gave her the look.

"Ok! Ok!" She picks up the can and places it back on the table.

A bang comes from the living room. The old woman is slapping the side of the TV. An old boxy thing. "God dammit, fuckin' thing." She curses. "Fuckin' peice of shit. Michelle! We need a new box!"

"It's fine ma, you just gotta give it a minute. It's old." Michelle yells, with one hand pulling open the fridge and the other holding a gallon of fresh milk.

With another sigh, She tucks a stand of brown behind her ear and begins to unpack the groceries, ignoring the obnoxious bickering from her family. Her mother gets annoyed quickly. Her grandmother, even faster. A short temper runs in the family. Calianna scoffs quietly to herself. Her mother is now stomping over to the living room as the old woman's face turns red with every curse that slips her tongue. She wonder's briefly what a normal family is like?

More banging. This time it was her mother who was slapping the side of the old shit-box. That's what Miles calls it. Calianna frowned as she pulled out a frozen bag of off-brand chicken nuggets. Sometimes she missed her brother more than she missed chicken nuggets. And Calianna loved chicken nuggets.

"There, that's as good as it's gonna get." Michelle grunts, standing back up after being hunched over. The TV, still with a pinch of static, comes to life. The news is on. The old woman slinks back to her chair, withered hands curling over the arm rests.

Cereal boxes. Pop tarts. Pasta. Mac and Cheese. She looked up at the tall cabinets far above her head, before deciding to climb up and stand on top of the counter. She wobbled a bit, but steadied her balance by placing both of her bare feet firmly against the granite. She almost dropped the Frosted Flakes as her mother came shouting around the corner.

"What the fuck are you doing on the counter?!"

"I couldn't reach it!"

"Get down before you crack your skull open." She pulls her daughter by the waist before hoisting her off.

"Holy shit. Michelle!" The old woman's voice cracks as she yells once more.

Michelle ignores her mother. She cocks her head towards her daughter, crumbling up the plastic grocery bags in her hands before tossing them in another bag, hanging off of the closet door. "Did you finish your homework?"

"Yes." Her daughter plops down into a kitchen chair. "Way earlier."

"All of it?" Michelle just gives her the look.

"Well I still have to read a chapter in that stupid book." She crossed her arms.

"Michelle!"

Michelle still ignores her mother. "Go get it done before it gets too late."

"I can do it later. It'll take like two seconds."

"Calianna…."

"MICHELLE!"

"WHAT?!" She snaps, slamming her hand against the counter as she violently makes her way back towards the living room.

She stops yelling.

A few seconds pass of just silence, and a few muffled words coming from the TV. "Mom?" Calianna looks towards the living room, to see her pacing back and forth. She has her cell phone lifted to her ear. "Mom?" she asks again, but no answer. Just more pacing.

She gets up, carefully making her way over to see what the hell was going on suddenly. Her grandmother was shaking her head, rocking back and forth in her chair while her mother was shouting on the phone.

"Where are you?!"

A distant voice from the receiver. "They're taking me into questioning."

"Questioning?! So they're arresting you?!"

"Who are you talking to?" Calianna asked, nosy.

Her mother ignores her. She hears a few more words from a voice over the phone. It's a man's voice. She makes out 'calm down' and 'don't listen to the news.'

"Do you know what they're saying about her?" Michelle's words were harsh. "Do you know what they're accusing her of, Miles?!"

Miles? Calianna's heart dropped, now worried. Her mother was talking to her brother.

The old woman grumbles to herself. "I told you that psycho was trouble."

"Who?" Calianna asks, now pushing her grandmother for answers, curiosity starting to kill her.

Her grandmother just points to the TV.

Michelle continued to yell over the phone, but Calianna seemed to get lost in the moving pictures plastered against the screen. All she saw was fire. Curls of fire and pale skin the same color as the snow that dusted the ground. A large pond with broken ice scattered across the top. Police tape. And a mansion built so grand it looked like something straight out of a movie, according to little Calianna. And then, as her eyes scanned across the old television, she noticed the bump beneath the redhead's coat. A big bump, actually. She was nine months pregnant after all.

And that's when she recognized this woman.

It was Charlie Lavorre. Her brother's fiance.

There was a headline along the bottom of the screen.

WOMEN FOUND DEAD IN WELD POND, DEDHAM MASSACHUSETTS. SISTER IS PRIME SUSPECT AND CURRENTLY IN CUSTODY.

Dead? Calianna pondered. Are they talking about Melanie? She knew of Charlie's sister, but had never met her. She remembered that Miles had said that Charlie and her sister lost touch due to some argument a while ago. But dead? Murdered?

"Did she do it?" Long brown strands whipped over her shoulder as she looked back towards her grandmother. Her mother's words now fading as she continued to yell over the phone, making her way back into the kitchen.

"I think she did." The old woman said with certainty.

Perplexed, Calianna shook her head. "But Charlie isn't like that!" She defends her. She loves her, after all. "She wouldn't hurt someone like that. Especially her own sister!" She turns to her grandmother. "She isn't a monster."

The old woman looked deep into her granddaughter's eyes. A harsh and quick sigh pushing past her lips. "Trust me when I say, any spawn of that filthy rotten Alexander Lavorre is destined to be a monster."

"I'm coming to get you." Her mother's voice bellowed behind her.

She hears the receiver loud in the kitchen, her brother's voice now beaming on the speaker. No! Mom, it's fine. Everything is fine. Don't worry. Me and Charlie just need to go into questioning.

"She's the prime fucking suspect, Miles! Why the FUCK do you thing they're questioning her?!" Her mother was screaming now, grabbing her coat and keys as she fumbled with the door.

Everything is fine, says Miles, but Calianna could hear the fear in his voice. She could hear the tremble in his words. Now looking over her shoulder, she watched her mother disappear from the small, 3rd floor apartment. Her screaming fading away the more and more she marched down those treacherous old stairs.

She noticed her Grandmother placed a hand on her shoulder. Cold fingers, soft fingers. Long, wrinkled and calloused from a harsh life. She tucks a strand of brown behind her granddaughter's ear, before pulling her close to say:

"Don't you ever trust a Lavorre."

~ Present Day ~

Monday, January 6th, 2020

Four Seasons Hotel, Room 1005: Boston, MA

10:06 AM, EDT

The damp air was welcoming. A cool breeze to graze her face, a soft breath against her lips. Her wool coat was buttoned tight, but never enough for the New England bitter winds. She closes her eyes, but no tears fall. She's become numb to the feeling of crying by this point in her life. Her fingers play with the bow tied around the bouquet of daisies she holds. They wilt a little more with every moment she stands in the cold. She sighs, suddenly irritated at a thought.

I had to go to three fucking flower shops for you.

She waited. And soon enough, that little pesky voice slithered into her head. The words echoing in the darkness of her mind. It was too familiar.

I didn't ask for your fucking flowers.

She tosses the daisies in front of the mossy tombstone at her feet. Placing her hands in her coat pockets before saying out loud, "Happy birthday, sister."

The grave was marked:

Melanie Elizabeth Rivera Lavorre II

July 23rd 1978 - March 13th 2008

May god have mercy on her soul

Why does she go? Year, after year, after year. What's the point? She asks herself this the whole ride back to her hotel room. She does this every year, every time she visits her grave. All of her frustration builds up as she yanks her hair free from her bun, pulling a little too hard. Her fingers get caught in her fiery curls.

Why?

A defeated breath. A few tears trail down her face as she sinks to the floor.

Why ?

…..It's because I love her, She thinks, briefly, before aggressively changing her mind. No! She shakes her head. Red curls that reek of vodka fall into her eyes. It's because I despise her.

A deep breath. Or, perhaps, it's a combination of both. The voice was smooth, like velvet. Deep, slow, and barely above a whisper.

Shut up.

You shut up.

"Shut up!" Charlie yells, out loud. Now stumbling over to her bed, she begins to rub her temples. A migraine is coming.

You're the one who's screaming, you baby.

Charlie flinches, seemingly from nothing. Just the pure sound of her deceased sister's voice was enough to cause her eyes to fly open. She must have closed them, but she doesn't remember. She's in the bathroom now, sitting on the cold tile floor in just her black lace bra and thong. Her pale skin almost matches the porcelain sink. Her scarlett hair was the only splash of color in the grayscale room.

She's losing time again…

…

There's music playing somewhere in the living room. The radio was on. Swaying back and forth, the steady beat seemed to slow her heartbeat as she grounded herself.

So tenderly you watch me burn

You watch me burn

"Fuck," she mutters, forcing her unstable body to a stand. She almost vomits at her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles against her venom green eyes. Her phone is on the counter, charging. There's 2 missed text messages.

And that's when she sees the needle in her arm. A spider web of purple and blue veins bursting underneath.

A flash of memories invade her mind, unwanted. The first time she had ever stuck a needle in her arm…

What's the matter, Charlie? Her sister's voice now comes as an echo within her mind. Are you not having fun anymore?

"Go. Away." Charlie rips the needle out, tossing it aside. It lands in the hotel bathtub, along with the others. Turning on the sink faucet, she splashes her face with the coldest tap water Boston has to offer. It's freezing. It is January after all, but Charlie doesn't care. She cups her hand and drinks, water now splashing down the front of her chest. Red curls wild and frizzy. Contaminated with sweat, rain, vodka, and now tap water. She felt like her hair alone weighed 10 pounds.

She hated the light. Bright vanity lights that border the bathroom mirror, burning her eyes with every moment she spent standing there. Her long black nails scratch against the porcelain sink as she grabs her phone, pulling it free from the charger. She stumbles forward, hitting the light switch as she falls. She lands in the door-frame, in between both rooms.

She grunts, grabbing her shoulder as she rolls onto her back. "Fucking…fuck."

And it's then, as the darkness of the bedroom begins to set in, that she realizes she's not alone.

There's a figure sitting on her bed. He speaks as she begins to lift herself off the ground. She recognizes his voice. "Good morning, Charlotte."

The heavy drapes that once covered the windows, now were pulled aside by two men in suits. She winched, flinching away from the harsh rays of sun as if she were a vampire. Her sight adjusted, focusing on the man now standing over her. Late 60s, but he hardly looked it. Subtle waves of dark orange and gray slicked back into a small ponytail, exposing the clean shaven sides of his head. The darkest of eyes with deep worry lines and cheekbones that could cut glass. His lips pursed, shaped like a bow. Broad shoulders, calloused hands. Some would argue, he aged like a fine wine.

But to Charlie, he was still the same monster he had always been.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his own suit creasing. "Well?" His thick English accent was enough to cause a fire in her chest. She hated him almost as much as she hated her. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Silence.

Charlie pushes herself up off of the floor awkwardly, now suddenly self conscious that she's still currently in just her bra and panties. Her voice is rough. It hurts to speak. "I didn't think you were coming to Boston."

Her father just laughs. She hates his laugh. "I find you fucked up on god-knows-what, and that's the first thing you going to say to me? You can't be serious Charlotte, I raised you better than to be a moron."

She closes her eyes, wincing from his words. Her mother's voice graces her mind. It's only 'bout the money and control.

She wonders, briefly, what time it is?

"Alex?" Another man, seemingly out of nowhere, comes into the room. He whispers something in her father's ear, before disappearing back into the darkness of the hotel door.

Alex scoffs at his daughter's lack of communication. "Get dressed for fucks sake, and meet me in the lobby."

The other men disappeared through the hotel door, her father being the last to leave. As soon as the door closes with a click, Charlie slumps, falling backwards onto the hotel bed. The sheets and blankets were still made from last night. She noticed her reflection in the ceiling lamp, then. Untamed fiery curls that looked like blood splatter against the pale white bedding.

A flash. Her face shifts. It's not her anymore, staring back at her from the ceiling. It's her sister. With strawberry hair pulled back into an extravagant bun, a deep viridian dress made of satin. A glittering headpiece holding it all together. It was made of diamonds.

Diamond.

She's wearing the diamond. Another flash, and Charlie feels as if she's there again. As if she's standing over her body, hands trembling as she shoves the diamond in her pocket. Her sister's blood is the same color as her hair.

A breath. Charlie finds herself back in her hotel room. Still sprawled on the bed, her half naked body now covered in sweat.

One day, they're going to find out.

She laughs. And for the first time in a long time, she doesn't feel anger when she hears her sister's voice. She feels peace.

"Let them."

Austin International Airport: Austin, TX

9:06 AM, CDT

"Wait till the world is mine."

She whispers under her breath. Emerald eyes glistening under the morning sun. The reflection of the busy airport bustling behind her. She was lost in her own world, staring at the television in front of her. It was playing some basic news station. The one that always plays those day time shows. It switched to a talk show, and the entertainment was a singer. A new girl, the headlines said. With bright blue eyes and jet black hair, the young singer was jaw droppingly beautiful. And she was the same age as Cindy?! Just only 18.

Cindy scoffed then, suddenly irritated. That should be her.

That could be her…maybe. If she's lucky.

And Cindy hoped, day in and day out, she'd be lucky enough to one day be on that screen. To be that 'new girl'. That hot new thing in Hollywood. A beautiful entertainer who came from seemingly nothing. An actress. A singer. Whatever they wanted, really. Cindy was ready for it all.

But day in and day out, she was just Cindy. Just simply that. Just a teenage mom. Just a nobody girl from bum-fuck Texas. Just dumb blond, in a sea of other dumb blonds. Just a girl.

And that was the thing. Cindy didn't want to be just a girl. She didn't want to be a nobody. She's been a nobody her whole life, she's tired of it, honestly.

She was a star. Cindy knew what her destiny held, and this…..was it. She wouldn't be the loser stuck in a dead end town hating her life. She was a performer. She refused to conform to a boring life. She would be famous, one day. Even if it killed her.

But she would be famous.

She smiles, and it's then that she feels his hand grab her shoulder. He pulls her back slightly, trying to get her attention. Lost in her own world, it took her daughter's crying for Cindy to finally snap back to reality.

Oh yeah. Reality. Hot sweaty airport with a screaming baby.

"Babe?" His voice was confused, annoyed and exhausted all tied into one single word. He held Melanie on his hip, screaming and kicking away.

And of course, only infuriating him more, she goes: "Huh?"

Jimmy sighs, pulling Cindy away from the TV. A little more harsh then he intended. "The gate, Cindy. The GATE is boarding."

"What? Already?" How long had she been standing there? She swore it was only a few minuets.

They make it back to their stuff, sitting solitary in the corner. Most of the passengers already boarded the next flight to LA. He places Melanie down into her car seat. She screams even more as he buckles her up. "Can you grab her bottle?"

Cindy ignores Jimmy, unintentionally as she searches her own bag, worried she's forgetting something.

"Cin?!" He yells over the noise.

She snaps her head towards her newly fiance. Ready to start and unnecessary argument before Melanie's screams pierced her eardrums. She grabs the plastic bottle out from the diaper bag. Handing it quickly over to Jimmy. "Sorry." She mumbles, zipping up her bags once more. "Sorry."

Finally, the devil child stops. Her voice silenced from the formula she was now chugging down her throat.

"This is the final boarding call for flight 208, non-stop to Los Angeles, California. Please board at Gate number five."

The intercom made her sick to her stomach suddenly.

She felt his hand on the small of her back, his fingers pulling her into a hug. "Hey," he whispers into her ear. "I love you. I'm sorry. Airports are stressful."

A tear falls down Cindy's cheek, pulling him into her even tighter. Melanie remained in her car seat, right beneath their feet. "I know, I know. I love you too."

He kissed her. His hand getting tangled in the fabric of her sweater. The ring on her finger glimmered in the Texas sun. As they pulled apart, he tugged her hand to his lips. "I'll see you on Valentines day." A smirk under his stubble.

Her own smile spread across her face. Green eyes lighting up. "I can't wait."

This time, it's Cindy who pulls into the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. If this was the last time she'd see him for a while, she figured she might as well give him something to remember her by. He grunts under her lips.

"You gotta go."

"Just one more second baby..." She discreetly palmed him through his Levi's.

This girl is trying to kill you. His mind races as he bites her lip gently. "Oh you're evil."

She chuckles as finally (and unfortunately) removes her hand, pulling her lips away. She picks up the car seat swiftly, her carry on bag ready to roll behind her.

"I love you." She says, looking into those ocean eyes that drive her crazy.

"I love you." Another quick kiss. Getting worried, he motions towards the gate entrance. "Go, baby. I don't want you to miss the flight."

"Ok...Ok." The warmth of her presence faded as she quickly ran towards the gate entrance. Giving the receptionist her boarding pass before finally being let through the large metal door. Cindy glanced back over her shoulder, Jimmy still standing off to the side. A sad look across his face. He smiles as he makes eye contact with the love of his life, one last time, before she disappeared into the tunnel.

He stays still for a moment. A little lost now that he was alone once more. Slow breaths and a sigh. He had his own plane to catch now.

The 747 was crowded. Over crowded, actually.

The smell of pungent perfume, old milk and sweat filled the air. Cindy nearly gagged. There's nothing like the smell of a fully loaded airplane. Even First Class seemed disgusting. I need my own jet, she mused. Rolling her eyes as she stopped abruptly, the women in front of her now trying to fit her giant bag into the cabin above. Melanie threw her bottle. It rolls past two rows of passengers before landing in front of a pair of black leather loafers. A dark red suit, velvet it seemed. His wavy brown hair was brushed back, eyes covered by dark shaded glasses. Earbuds isolated him from the noisy cabin. Scrolling through his phone, unphased from the chaos around him.

"What the fuck." She mumbles under her breath. Melanie screams once more. The women finally sits down, allowing Cindy to harshly push through, dragging her bag in one hand and her screaming daughter in the other. After what seemed like forever, she finds her seat. All the way in the back, one of the last two seats in First Class. Cindy remembers her father requested she have enough room for the baby. Thank god, she thought to herself. Dealing with a random passenger in her personal space was the last thing she needed right now. She tossed her bag up into the cabin above before hoisting Melanie up to settle in the seat closest to the window.

She doesn't hear him at first. Far too distracted with trying to buckle the car seat into the plane. It's when he taps her shoulder, for Cindy to snap her head around. Defensive, she turns to yell at the intruder, but instead was just met with a bottle. Clear, pink top. Formula that was now room temp, sloshed back and forth in the cup. Held out in front of her face by the man with the velvet suit.

"I believe this belongs to your little love." His British accent seemed to drift across the air. He motioned towards Melanie, red in the face still screaming her lungs out.

Now faced with the man, Cindy can see that his eyes are the same color as her own. Green as the grass on a warm summer day. Freckles cover his nose, dimples that only seemed to come when he smiled big. "Oh...oh, um-thanks." She stumbled over her words, grabbing the bottle mindlessly. She didn't expect him to come to her.

"My pleasure." He winks before heading back to his seat. He's only in the next row over, sitting alone in the other corner. "Have a nice flight."

Cindy's mouth was ajar, still deaf to Melanie's screams as he slipped his glasses back on. Resuming whatever it was that he doing on his phone.

I know him, she thinks to herself. Where have I seen him before?

"Attention all passengers, please put your seat belts on. We will be preparing for take off in just a few minuets."

The intercom was loud in her ears. Wincing from the blasting sound, she returned her daughter's bottle back to her tiny little hands. Finally, her screaming subsided. Eyes closing as she started to drift off to sleep. Cindy slumped into the airplane seat next to Melanie, defeated and exhausted. She glances back over to the red velvet man. She catches him looking at her. A smirk. Two dimples before breaking contact, looking down.

I wonder where he's going? She thinks. Wouldn't it be funny if he ended up at the Academy? Ha. Cindy grimaces. Annoyed already at her own inner banter. Her thumb unconsciously grazed the ring on her finger. That would certainly make things interesting.

Her own eyes begin to drift close, she hasn't slept much these past few days.

And its right before she falls into unconsciousness that she see's it, floating beneath her eyes. Only for a second.

A stage. A crowd. A dream.

She smiles. She sleeps.

And the plane takes off.

Westgate Apartments: Cambridge, MA

2:30 PM, EDT

Apartment 204

Dark brown roots that bled into a faded silvery white. The ends of her hair were tangled like spiderwebs. No bed frame. Just a bare mattress with an amalgam of blankets and pillows. Empty bottles, clothes and high heels cover the floorboards, scuffed up from many years of use. Easy breathing, before a coughing fit hits. She turns over, her hair sticking to every part of her exposed naked body. She doesn't wake, though. Not yet. Her eyes flutter underneath her lids. Her drifting mind, elsewhere. Drifting between conscious and unconscious. The rise and fall of her chest synced with the music blasting from outside. Her window was cracked, just ever so slightly, for a breeze to graze against her damp flesh.

She shivered, jolting her slightly from her dreaming state. The stage she had been dancing on began to warp and melt. Distant voices and sultry remarks, fading. Dark figures surround her. She says cheers to her demons, raising a glass. It burns as she downs it, grimacing. She sees red beneath her eyelids. An evil smile, and terrifying viridian eyes. Another glass. The back of her throat is on fire. Bubbling, churning. All she can taste is acid.

And it was then, that Calianna threw up.

She drank a liter of tequila in her bedroom. She did this most nights, now.

It didn't start at a liter, of course. At first, it was just a beer. Just one simple little drink to ease the pain of life. To get the sleep she desperately needed after long twelve hour shifts at the club. After all nighters, stupid lectures, and endless fights with Jo. It was never meant to turn into the addiction Calianna so desperately denied. But then again, don't all addictions start like that?

She convinced herself, once she realized her body started demanding something stronger than beer, that it was a necessity. To drink before bed. It was the only way she could actually achieve that one precious component her body so desperately needed: Sleep. The only way to silence the constant static in her head. To silence the fears that still haunted her to this day. Fears that she wishes never even manifested their way into her life to begin with.

She hated sometimes that she relied on it. That her body sometimes couldn't function without a drop of that toxic liquid courage. At one point, things had gotten so bad Miles wanted to send her to rehab. She managed to talk her way out of it. Blaming it all on stress and school. Miles only believed her a little bit.

She falls out of bed, vomiting all over the dirty clothes she neglected to pick up, day after day. It's just stomach acid, she thinks mindlessly. Nothing new. It burns the back of her hand as she wipes it away, slumping against the mattress. The cold wooden floors were welcoming to her overheating skin. She counts to three. Silently giving herself a moment to ground herself. She could still hear that terrifyingly sultry voice, like a whisper in the wind.

You've betrayed me, Calianna.

She closes her eyes, three more seconds, before opening them once more. Her blurred sight, slowly turning bearable. The room was dark except for the bleeding light coming from the half covered window. The drapes pulled down to just above where the window was cracked. The clouds outside are a dark gray. The darkest she's seen in a while. There's a storm coming. Raindrops, already hitting the window.

She glances around, briefly. She's alone.

Calianna scoffs. Of course I'm alone. She never stays.

She, as in Johanna. The girl of her dreams, the light of her life. The best friend she could ever ask for…until she uses her, abuses her, and tosses her away like she never even mattered. And still to this day, Calianna can't understand why she just can't leave the bitch. Why can't she just detach herself from the toxicity, wipe her hands clean, and call it a day? Why is she so infatuated with someone who is so undeserving of any type of infatuation?

Why does she love her?

Calianna swallows hard, trying not to throw up again. The vomit feels like a knife in her throat. Why, she thinks. Why the fuck do I love her?

Outside, a new song plays. Blasting from the neighbors wide open window. She knows this one, the tune now gracing her half-listening ears. She sings along, softly under her breath. "I love her so bad," a pause, and Calianna chuckles at the irony in the lyrics. "But she treats me like shit."

Her phone chimes across the room. It's in her jeans pocket, buried in the other pile of laundry. What time is it anyway? She wonders, pushing herself to an unsteady stand. Stumbling over, she digs and digs until she pulls the familiar droid from the sweat soaked denim.

3 missed calls. 1 voicemail.

Two of them were from Miles. A text followed:

Today, 2:17 PM, Miley:

I think Charlie is in Boston. She left me another weird message. I tried to call you, but I guess you're still sleeping at 2 pm. Call me back, please.

And to Calianna's surprise, the voicemail was from Johanna.

Today, 11:02 AM, Jo:

Missed Call

"Hey babe." Voices surround hers. She's somewhere busy. A cough before she continues. She's smoking. "Had to run to the club early this morning cause mom needed help with some drunk guy." A pause. She whispers close to someone, "Yeah, yeah. One sec." Inhale. Another pause. "I'll talk to you later when you get here for your shift. I gotta go. Love ya."

Love ya.

It stung more than I love you.

She catches a glimpse of her reflection from across the room. The tall mirror was cracked in two places. She hates that she remembers that fight. The sound of rain hitting the window takes over. Harsh. Fast. It's pouring. A sudden breeze rushes through the crack, coating her skin with the slightest bit of mist.

The storm is here.

Calianna chuckles, briefly, before letting unconsciousness take her once more.

The storm has been here for a while.

Logan International Airport: Boston, MA

Terminal A, Gate 5

The plane landed, and Jimmy didn't know why he felt empty. Staring out the small oval window, headphones drowning out his surroundings with graceful piano and mesmerizing lyrics. His lips parting slightly, whispering along.

"And I overflow like mercury."

The music made him feel a sadness he hadn't felt in a while, shifting uncomfortably in the plane seat. They were slowing down, but still speeding down the runway. He felt dread. Slowly but surely creeping up his spine and into his chest. The empty cavity where his heart should be now filled with darkness. But why did he feel this way? Sure, he missed Cindy and Mel, this was obvious…but…why did he feel so void of anything right now?

"Glowing with uncertainty."

Standing up mindlessly, he pushes past the other passengers. Grabbing his bag from the luggage compartment above. One by one, people shuffle through the cabin before emerging through the Logan Airport gate. Swaying back and forth, eyes closing, mind drifting. Outside, the Boston sky was covered in gray. Darkness and a hazy fog begins to take over. Soft drops of rain, already hitting the pavement.

"I might be forever gone."

The freezing rain was exactly what Jimmy needed. Standing face up, in front of the main entrance, lips parted with relief as he cooled off. He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to rest upon his luggage which sat beside him. It wasn't raining hard, but enough to add weight to Jimmy's clothes. Weary eyes and side glaces as other's pass by. Whispering parents, grabbing their kids. Laughing teens, pointing fingers.

"Thank god I was always healing."

The euphoric feeling only lasted a few seconds. His blood pressure and temperature falling back to normal as the cold January air assaulted his presence. He takes a breath, tasting rain on his lips. Water begins to gather on his forehead, causing a few drops to trail down his cheeks. His chestnut hair, coated with a dampness. A shiver. He's only wearing his black ACDC tee. He picks up his coat once more, before heading down the street and into the city. Still humming along to the music in his ears.

"Speeding up on that all black demon."

He took the long way back to campus. Purposely taking an early subway stop to walk through the Commons and Public Garden. Most of the snow had melted. All that remained was just heaping piles of mud amongst the various different trees. Drizzling rain, dark skies with an overall feeling of uneasiness. Jimmy wrinkled his nose, once again looking to the storm looming above. The sound of his luggage wheels, scraping against the pavement behind him.

It's gonna downpour soon. Better hurry up or you'll be soaked. His mother's voice nagged.

Jimmy just shrugged, rolling his eyes. Oh well. It's just rain.

"I was throwing stones at Hercules."

He kicked a rock into the water, walking slowly by the nearby pond. His reflection danced against the moving ripples. Raindrops were getting heavier. He could see his breath as he turned on his heel, moving further down the stone pathway.

"Throwing them so perfectly."

He hit Boylston street. Coming to a brief stop as he waited to cross the gaping intersection.

"I can't be forever young."

And its then, as he looks up once more to the grey clouds above, that sees a figure against the sky. A dark outline, but still bright enough to contrast against the storm lit horizon. There was someone standing on the roof of that building over there...Jimmy squinted, slowing to a stop as he tried to make out more details. It was a Hotel. The Four Seasons. The shadow swayed. They were standing on the edge. A few more steps.

It then occurred to Jimmy, panic rising in his chest. They were going to jump.

The streets were dead. The rain, now coming down hard enough to cause shiver over his body.

"Fuck." He breathed. He watched the shadow sway again. Still just standing motionless on the edge. He had to do something. He couldn't just walk away. He couldn't just leave them.

You just have to be a hero don't you?

He rushed forward, darting across the road. He headed straight for The Four Seasons Hotel front entrance.

His boots dragged mud in, leaving footprints as he ran towards the women at the front desk. She backed up, caught off guard and about ready to call security as Jimmy shouted at her, completely out of breath.

"There's someone on the roof! There's someone on the roof!"

Thick black hair pulled high into a ponytail. Dramatic make-up and worried eyes as she looked him up and down. He could only imagine how crazy he looked, soaked from the rain. "...I-...I'm sorry. Can I help you?"

"There's someone up there! ON the roof!" he reiterated. "Like a person! About to jump!"

The women just continued to stare at him, confused. "Sir, there's a storm outside…and guests do not have access to the roof. Maybe you should just sit down for a second." He noticed her hand went under the counter. He knew exactly what she was doing. Her finger now violently pressing the emergency button.

This woman was useless. He turned around, now moving towards the elevator.

The woman's voice got loud, suddenly. "Sir, the elevator is for guests only."

There were 10 floors. He hit the button, but the elevator was nowhere near the ground level.

The hotel receptionist was moving out from behind the counter now. "Sir, I have to ask you to leave. If you don't, the police will have to have you escorted."

"There's a fucking person about to jump off your roof and you're acting like I'm the problem." He shouted back towards her.

He glanced to the stairwell.

You're gonna climb ten flights of stairs, genius?

He was through the door in seconds, ignoring the voice in his head along with the shouting thickheaded receptionist. Racing up the concrete steps, he pulled out his phone, already dialing 911.

Static. "-11 What's your em-ergancy?" The crackling voice came through the receiver.

"I'm at the Four Seasons Hotel. On Boylston street. There's someone about to jump off of the roof!"

The operator's voice came back choppy. "...I'm….hearing you. The-...Hotel?"

"The Four Seasons." He hit the third floor. His lungs are already burning.

More static. "Sir….I can't under…..Are you…..Boylston….?"

The line went dead. Only the harsh sounds of his footsteps and gasping lungs surrounded the stairwell. Fifth Floor. Half way. Jimmy glances down to his phone, no service.

"Fuck." He stumbles, skipping a step unintentionally. His hand grips the metal railing, sliding a little. He shoves his phone in his pocket. Useless. Why is technology always useless when you need it most? He pushes himself forward, running faster up the concrete steps.

He reaches the tenth floor, but his journey wasn't over yet. Another stairwell, spiraling up and into darkness. A cage surrounds it, but the door remains ajar. There's a rusty lock and chain tossed to the side, Jimmy notices. Gold keys shimmer under the dim stairwell light, still stuck into the keyhole. The whole unit creaked as he took his first step. It sounded as if the old rusty stairs were going to fall apart at any given moment. But it seemed to hold his weight as Jimmy proceeded further up the final steps. He was greeted with a large industrial door. At the top, there was a red EXIT sign.

He pushed, and the door swung open with ease.

The rain had turned to ice. Coating the world in a glaze. His exhaled breaths nearly overtook his sight. Squinting and trying not to fall as he slowly took a step onto the slippery hotel rooftop. The wind was like knives stabbing into every part of him. Even with his jacket he was freezing. Taking whatever little breath that was left in his lungs, he keeps going. Now putting up his hands, trying to shield his eyes from the shards of hail.

And it's then, as he makes it halfway, that he sees her.

It felt like a fever dream. It really, really did. His mind was on fire. Warming him with adrenaline. Her scarlet hair was a tangled mess. Locks and curls violently flying in the wind. Barefoot, he noticed, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. Sheer from the rain, you could see her entire body from underneath. Slender, pale. Unsteady feet as she balanced herself atop the ledge.

"Who are you?"

She noticed him.

Her voice was weak, tired. A British accent drifting through the breeze. Lips chapped, red, and parted with questionable eyes. Green. Similarly close to Cindy's green. Freckles splashed across her nose. Her fiery curls whipped around her face, almost like a lion's mane. Glancing over her shoulder to address her intruder. He wondered, briefly, how dangerous it was to tempt a lion?

Very. His inner voice bellowed.

His first thought undoubtedly was, she's beautiful. Far too beautiful to die.

"Uh," he stumbled over his words. "I'm … uh, my name's Jimmy." He held out his hand. That's what they do in the movies right? Just hold out a hand and approach slowly? "I'm not gonna hurt you."

A moment of silence passed. The redhead just looked at him. Almost as if he was the crazy one.

"Jimmy?" She repeated, to his surprise.

He nodded. "That's right. That's…that's me…I'm…..here to help."

The rain ironically lighted up, right as she took a breath. Sighing loudly, she looks back to the world below, before speaking once more. "Why?"

Jimmy blinks icicles from his lashes. He stutters, puzzled. "I….-I'm…because I…want to help...?"

"But…why?" She growls. Howling wind matching her tone. She starts to turn around. Toes gripping the ever-so tiny beam that held her from the 10 story drop below. "There's got to be a reason, Jimmy." The way she said his name sent electricity down his spine. The British accent sparking a memory. A recent memory.

Enjoy the show.

Her green eyes met his, lips parted as she took breath. She's facing him now. Lightning strikes off in the distance, flashes of blue and neon spider across the sky. All of her exposed under the storm lit sky. He sees her, fully, for half a second before the thunder shakes the building.

She sways, but still remains.

Wait...

He takes a step towards her. "I know you."

She laughs. It's louder than the thunder. "Do you?" He notices she whispers something. Her smile fades. "Lots of people know me."

"Yes but, but…we've met. Recently. Very recently…I…remember…the hair." He gestures to her curls swarming behind her.

She didn't respond.

A pause. It's too late to back out now. Jimmy takes another step. "What's your name? I told you mine. It's only fair you tell me yours."

She smirks. Almost intrigued at the statement. Respectfully, she doesn't break eye contact. "Charlotte."

"Charlotte." He repeated. He knew the answer before he even asked the question. "You're Charlotte Lavorre?"

You're Lainey's mother.

She smiles, before she bows. Wobbling the whole time. "Congratulations. You've found me. You can tell my father to come out now."

Jimmy just stares at her. "Your…father...?"

"I know he sent you." She didn't even take a breath. "I know you're just here to collect me."

The sudden thought of Alexander Lavorre sparked an uneasy feeling in his chest. He didn't know why, but he feared him already. Goosebumps rising on his forearms, mostly from the rain. The way Charlotte spat the word father, he deduced that their relationship probably isn't on the best of terms at the moment, or if at all.

Another strike of lightning. The thunder shanks the ground. She sways once more, this time notably gripping her toes to the ledge. Jimmy instinctively took a step forward. She looked fearful, trembling from the cold rain. Her lips were blue. If the fall doesn't kill her, hypothermia will.

Do something genius, time is running out.

"I'm sorry." A beat in time. Another rumble in the distance. Jimmy swallowed hard. "I'm sorry for everything that's happening to you right now. I mean that sincerely. I know what it feels like. To have a weight on your chest heavier than the sun. To feel so numb that your only escape is to end it all. I don't know why you're here, or what brought you to this…but I swear on my daughter's life, I'm not here to hurt you..." A pause, another step forward. Jimmy holds out his hand, his own lips turning blue. She's so close now. He shouts over the storm. "So please, please, just take my hand."

She contemplates his words. They were meaningful, despite the fire that burned in her veins. It struck an arrow through her cold-stone heart. The world was blurry, but Charlie could see the blue-eyed boy in front of her. Pleading for her not to jump. He was interesting, this kid. She had to admit, he was insane, standing up here with her in the middle of an ice storm. He was nearly as insane as she was. But in the same breath, he was up here. In the middle of an ice storm. Desperate for her not to jump.

Is it for her sake?

Or for his?

Charlie didn't know. She couldn't think with this much pain in her chest. All she wanted was peace.

Ha. Peace. You'll never have peace with me around, dear sister.

A sigh. A tear falls down her frostbitten cheek.

Frustrated. Defeated. Charlotte Lavorre surrendered.

His hand met hers, frozen fingers from the cold Boston rain. A breath exhaled as she ever-so-slowly stepped down from the ledge. Jimmy steadied her, sight now fixated upon her features. Her own piercing green eyes were searching for something. Darting from the ground, to Jimmy, to straight ahead at the door that would lead back inside. The frost-bitten drops almost seemed to sting as he reassured and walked Charlotte away from the rooftop edge.

And it was then, just as they reached the halfway point, that the steel door swung open to reveal three men. Two of which were nearly twice the size of Jimmy. Walking forward, they held out their hands, silently and subtly requesting the 'collection' of Charlotte. All dressed in black suits and ties, the third one of the group stood tall, waiting. He was the one who gave the orders, Jimmy assumed.

Who are they? He wondered. First responders? Detectives? Did the lady at the front desk finally call the damn rescue? They didn't look like typical EMTs. They looked intimidating, suspicious, stomping towards them aggressively. As the two men came forward, Charlotte stopped walking, her hand tugging Jimmy backwards abruptly. He turned to her, but she was far too focused on the man still standing in the doorway. Eyes shooting daggers, with just the slightest bit of fear. She inhaled, long and steady, before exhaling. Her cold fingers slipped out of Jimmy's grasp.

The man stepped out and into the rain, crimson and silver hair soaked immediately upon crossing the threshold. He didn't seem to care, regardless of the expensive suit he was wearing. Still pushing forward, never breaking eye contact with Charlotte.

And that's when she ran.

Charlie spun around, full speed back towards the edge of the building. A tangled mass of curls clung to her face and neck, the rest blowing out behind her. Her bare feet burned from the rough terrain of the hotel rooftop. The world fell silent. Even the rain seemed to drown out behind the sounds of her furious footsteps. She held her breath, finally ready for it to be over. For it all to be over. It was so close, she could feel it. She could feel it grasping for her fingers. Happiness.

She jumped.

She could feel it.

H.a.p.p.i.n.e.s.s.

But she didn't fall.

No. She didn't fall.

She was dragged backwards. An earth shattering scream as the two men in suits finally reached their destination. Nails leaving scratches against her fair skin as they dragged her away from the rooftop edge. It burned. It seethed. It ripped her withered heart to pieces. He ripped her to pieces. He ripped her from her happiness. It always came back to him. To that filthy rotten Alexander Sterling Lavorre. Her father.

And it was moments like this, very brief moments like this, where her mother's face would greet her in an unwanted memory. With emerald eyes matching hers and skin as pale as the melting snow. Waves of short black silk falling around her face. Cold. She was so cold. Droplets of water gathered upon her eyelashes. Blue lips parted just slightly, chest still. The indigo diamond glistened against her collarbone. Weighed like her motionless body in the porcelain tub.

May she rest in peace our Beautiful Gorgeous, The reverend had said.

And then red. Nothing but red.

She kicked her legs, flailing in all directions in hopes to hit her captors. They held her in the air, not giving her the courtesy of using her own legs anymore. She was small, compared to the giants that held her. She had no strength. No will. No power. She was helpless.

It all happened so fast. Jimmy's mouth still hung hope in a wordless gasp. What is happening right now? What the fuck is happening right now?! His inner mind was screaming. Ocean eyes rapidly blinked the rain from his view. And for a split second, he swore he could see Charlotte's soul. Dark and twisted. Hurt. Scared. Broken.

A chill washed over him. This is bad, he realized suddenly. This is very, very bad.

"Sorry boy."

The voice came from behind him. There was no time. The smell of chloroform became overwhelming. A white cloth smothering his voice. Eyes closing, body limp. He falls, cradled in the arms of the villain, before darkness overtakes him.

…

A cell phone rings. The ringtone is an instrumental clip of Plastic Beach, by Gorillaz.

"Hello?" Alex answers.

A pause. Another strike of thunder.

"I'll have to get back to you. I'm a bit busy at the moment."

Inspired By:

Plastic Beach, Gorillaz, 2010

Authors Note

Hi. It's nice to be back. So much of this chapter was created while listening to so many insanely good songs. Can you tell I write and listen to music at the same time? I don't have an update schedule right now, a lot is happening in my life, but I am definitely in a way better place mentally to be able to write again. Updates may still be slow, but they will coming. I always come back. After all, we still have to get to Series Three :'). Yes. I will complete this series. The whole Pink universe is a trilogy that I started writing back in 2019. The story will not be complete until after all three parts. I have put so much time and planing of this story/universe that I can't stop until I've finished it. And I will goddammit.

Thank you all.