Authors note: Hello :) Sorry this chapter is super super short but by the looks of things I won't get to update it again for a while and I literally only had enough time to write this. It's either short and good or long and rushed, sorry guys :( I feel bad because you're all so lovely and pretty :(
Questions!
How come Brendan switches between you and ye when he talks?: I've been paying very close attention to Brendan during his final episodes *sound of my heart breaking plays in the background* And I've noticed he seems to switch between them quite a lot depending on what he's been saying.
For the next nine hours I slipped in and out of consciousness. I'd wake up, be sick and then dragged back under, Walker's glare and evil smirk plaguing my sleep. In my dreams, he was touching me, and wherever he touched, millions of tiny insects would crawl all over my skin. In other dreams, he was hurting Brendan, he was screaming for help but my feet were rooted to the spot. I couldn't help him, Walker was going to kill him. I'd find myself trapped in that awful limbo between dreams and reality, where I had no control and couldn't escape.
I don't know how long this went on for before I finally woke up without vomiting.
I was back in the spare room, with Brendan leaning over me, an ice cold flannel pressed gently against my forehead.
"Steven... Steven, it's me! Steven?" he was asking.
His voice seemed so distant that I could barely hear him over the pounding in my head, "B-B... Bren..."
"Yeah, yeah it's me, Steven. I'm here, I'm right here, Steven."
I heard another voice, "Oh, God, is he alright, Bren? Oh, babe..."
"He's fine, Cheryl, it's just the flu." Brendan was saying, dabbing my neck with the flannel.
"Oh, God, as if he didn't have enough going on..." Cheryl sighed, "I-I'll go put the kettle on..."
"Fine..." When she'd left the room, Brendan helped me sit up slightly, "Do you feel sick again?"
I shook my head slowly, "No..." I looked up at him, "B-Bren? Brendan? W-what are you... how... W-where's Walker!"
"Shh..." He hushed, "Steven... Jesus, Steven, I'm so sorry... This was never supposed to happen..."
"Wh-why are you here..." I asked, every word felt like sandpaper against my throat.
"That's not important. Did he hurt ye? Tell me if he did, please..."
I shook my head, "No... I dunno... don't think so... don't remember..."
He sighed, "Look, Steven... it's over. He's not coming back, ever, I promise."
"W-what?"
He then proceeded to tell me what happened after I was knocked unconscious.
Brendan had received a phone call from Walker at about 3am, with instructions to meet him if he ever wanted to see me alive again (he didn't tell me where). He has no idea how Walker got his number, but he went straight there. When he arrived, Walker turned the gun on him. He opened his boot to reveal me, unconscious and bloody. He'd demanded for him to let me go.
Walker said that there were no hard feelings between then anymore. He'd have exactly the same thing in his position. He'd leave Brendan alone as long as he never tried to work in the drugs or the smugglers business ever again. The house being trashed and me being kidnapped was just to prove exactly what he was capable of. He made Brendan take me from the boot and then drove away.
He had no idea.
None of this made any sense. How the hell did he get his number, and if it was so easy, why the hell did he kidnap me in the first place? My head was swimming with so many questions, I was beginning feel queasy again.
"S-so... he's not coming back?"
"No, Steven." He brushed the hair from my face, his touch was soft and tender, "He'll never hurt ye again, I swear it. I'll kill him myself if he does."
That pushed me over the edge. I heaved forward, anything left in my stomach was emptied out into a conveniently placed bucket. Brendan rubbed my back as I hurled, "That's right, get it up, Steven. Better out then in, eh?"
I groaned over the bucket, my stomach and throat burning, "S-sorry..." I mumbled.
"No. Don't you dare, Steven. Don't you dare blame yourself. Don't yeh ever, ever blame yourself."
When the queasy feeling subsided, Brendan helped me lie down again, cooling my forehead and wiping around my mouth with the flannel. I didn't want the nightmares to come back, but I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.
Just as I was sinking into sleep, I heard Brendan whisper to me, "I'll never let anybody hurt ye, Steven. Never again... I'd die before I let him near ye again." I didn't think he knew I could hear him, "You are... the most important thing in my life, Steven. I'll never let Walker take yeh away from me."
I swear I felt his lips touch my forehead before I went under once more.