Author's Note: Finally able to continue this story. Sorry, it took a while, but it requires me to enter some dark thoughts. Anyway, enjoy, should be able to get the last part out eventually.
Trigger warning- Same as before, more explicit descriptions of Abuse, and mild law-breaking.
Part 2
12.
Their sanctuary only lasted a few days before they hit their first problem. Lack of resources. Sure, they had enough food, drinks and entertainment to get them by for at least a month. With room to go and get more when needed. But the Mitchells, with their very few personal items, lacked any spare clothes or school supplies. It wasn't so apparent for Stacie, sharing a similar body type with Aubrey helped in the clothes department, but Brett doubted that he could pull off the crop tops.
That and there were things that they cherished to be on their person that was left discarded on the floor at Warren's. Carelessly thrown to safety before everything came crashing down around them. They could live without those but even then they had a façade to maintain. Not answering phone calls could inhibit their goal, it would also help to know just how much they needed to avoid Warren. If he even tried to reach out to them. If that was the case they needed to hide better. On the bright side, they always kept a spare bag packed in case of emergencies… back at the house.
Brett's head fell back against the pillow, garnering attention.
"What's wrong?" and "Do you need anything?" were sent from Stacie and Aubrey respectively.
"We need clothes," Brett said hollowly. He couldn't bring himself to add more force to his words. Not right now. Stacie looked down at her borrowed top, blinking in thought, before returning her gaze to the boy. Taking in his bare torso and dirty jeans she realised the issue.
"That you do." It had only been half a week but already she could spot the sweat stains amongst his socks and figured that sitting a bed away was probably saving her senses.
Aubrey looked disappointed, more inwardly than towards the others. Her face was light as if she had thought of something she should have ages ago. "You can use my brother's clothes. He's not expected back for another week."
"Thank you but I don't think he'd appreciate me staining his clothes." He barely gestured with the hand resting on his torso. It made its point anyway.
Aubrey stood taller, sterner. Her shadow was rather impressive. "You're supposed to be taking it easy anyway. You can't even put your t-shirt on without taking painkillers first. You should be able to handle wearing a baggy button up as you recover." As he was about to make his point - the blonde walked out.
"What's the real reason?" Brett turned toward his sister. "You know as well as I do that you don't mind wearing the same clothes day after day. So?"
"We left our phones at home. He'd be able to find out our last call went to Aubrey." Shit. "Exactly."
"We can't just turn up on his doorstep. It's the weekend, he'll be waiting in the living room."
"I know, but what other choice do we have?"
Stacie gets lost in thought, during which time Aubrey enters with the most obnoxious orange shirt he'd ever seen. The flamingos surrounding it didn't help win in style point either. His face turned pained as if the mere thought of wearing such a thing hurt him.
"What?" Aubrey raised a brow. "Just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I can't have fun with it." Brett didn't fight the small smile he felt brewing, hiding his small wince as he leaned forward for better access to place the shirt on.
"My window doesn't close."
"He'll hear us."
"So, we get him out the house."
"How?"
"It's Sunday. If we wait, he always makes his way to the school around one."
"What are you guys planning?"
"We need school supplies, clothes, and our phones." Aubrey opens her mouth but Brett cuts her off before she could utter a word. "We know that you can offer us all but our phones but if he gets his hands on them, he would figure out where we are."
"How?"
"You were the last person we called. If he's able to unlock it there's that. Or he can track down the number for Chloe, Jesse, even Tom, anyone he can to find us or paint us in such away. He would drag you down with us if he can."
The blonde looks down, a thoughtful expression all that's readable on her face. Brett wished he could know what was going on in her head if she was regretting letting them stay for now if she was going to toss them out, or even hand them over herself. Instead, she rotates her wrist, taking in the watch that lay there. She nodded to herself before reaching a hand out towards the back of her door – towards her jacket. "Get your shoes on."
The duo didn't argue, loosely sliding on their trainers before following behind her like a set of lost puppies. Neither commented as they reached her car, instead of buckling themselves to the car in silence. Stacie's eyes started to blur as the car moved along the road, taking in the familiar surroundings as each blink brought more clarity. She wished she didn't know this road. Two more left and one right turn and they would sit staring at the Mitchell family residence.
Brett sat staring forward. He didn't pay attention to his right, he knew he should comfort Stacie but his frame was too rigid to provide anything but anxious convulsions if he tried. He could make out Aubrey's profile in his peripheral vision. Her knuckles were tight if the near-constant flexing of her fingers were to go by. But what caught his interest was the imperfection of her hair. He had always known her to be constant. She had the best clothes, the best boyfriend… the best hair. But the untamed, barely brushed golden mane she had today was oddly soothing. He didn't understand why. Was it for impact? 'I'm sorry Mr Mitchell, look what your kids did to me. Or was it that sudden that she wanted to get rid of them, she just didn't put much thought into her appearance?
Aubrey's arm moved towards the gearstick and before they reached the last turn, the car slowed to a stop. Stacie's head turned but she didn't dare bring her eyes upwards. Brett, on the other hand, couldn't stop his eyes from meeting the blondes in the rear-view mirror. She broke it long enough to gaze back at her watch.
"It's currently 12:50. You have ten minutes to put together a list of things you need then we're going back to the house once we know that he's gone.
"We've got bags ready."
"Good, you don't need to be in there for longer than you have to." She sent a soft smile toward them, easing some of their nerves.
As 1 o'clock hit, they slowly made their way along the last street, careful of any road law they could be breaking, anything that would garner extra attention from any one of the neighbours. That wouldn't be ideal.
Unfortunately, the car was still there. No sign of a driver near it. Aubrey was forced to pull into the side, the closest driveway having been in use. Luckily there was enough space for her to move slightly further down the street. Enough of the car sat away from the house that even if he decided to drive down this way instead, he would only see the back of their heads instead. Unless he turned towards them.
While they waited Brett couldn't help but take in his neighbourhood. Even with living on this street for years, he had never truly taken in his surroundings. Sure, he walked down the paths in the early hours of school days while trudging back along with them when he had to return but the only times, he would wander across them was during the summer times. And even then, that was only recently. Only when he was old enough by law to be trusted on his own.
He had lived in a pretty good neighbourhood. The houses blend into each other, each one identical to the other. Only the gardens held variations in their white fences. The blinding paintwork made him feel almost nauseous. The neighbours hardly ever spoke to him outside of slight complaints about the noise he made the night before. Not that he had any control over the music levels that his father would play to distract from the voices. Whether that was Brett's or simply his thoughts was still up for debate. Even with everything standing uniform, only a few houses in the cul-de-sac had attached garages. Housing is one of them. Which was never used. Hell, he didn't even know what was inside it. The basement was scary enough.
That didn't stop Warren from hiding inside every couple of nights though. Nobody disturbed him when he was inside, and he never went after them either. It was an undiscovered sanctuary that he was too happy to have to tarnish it took about ten minutes for the teacher to leave the house. When you don't have to worry about children, you can stand to be slightly late. Or he was just late getting up. Both seem as likely as the other. And as soon as he was there, he drove off, not even waiting to look around. Once he was out of sight Aubrey was the first to get out of the car. Her walk was filled with purpose.
The siblings tried to argue with her quietly, to which she simply ignored and continued to strut towards the house, not displaying an ounce of the fear she felt. The duo were left whisper-yelling in an attempt to call her back, hoping not to get the attention of any neighbours. Really, wouldn't want to have that conversation. Instead, they slowly chase after her, heads turning this way and that trying to find any pedestrians or witnessing around.
"Aubrey!"
"Which window are we using?" She continued walking around the building, her eyes never stopping as she scanned the walls for something. She didn't pay attention to any of their questions just yet – too focused on her goal to truly register them.
Stacie saw nothing was getting through to her and walked in front of her, gesturing loosely behind her. "This one, this should be the one to my room." Aubrey finally stopped walking to nod. Taking in the area she realised they would need a hand to reach up the 8ft gap between them and the window. Instead of speaking, she walked up to the wall, squatting down slowly, bracing her back against the wall and cupping her hands on her lap. Ready.
"Come on." Aubrey ushered. "You need a boost, Let's go." Thankful for the cheerleading experience, they managed to scale the wall with few problems. Only the window ledge was a bit smaller than was comfortable for Stacie, but desperation was a powerful motivator.
The others stayed outside, twiddling their thumbs as they avoided conversations. Stacie took enough time to catch her breath as she adjusted back into her surroundings. Nothing was where she left it. The bag she was here to collect had its insides scattered along the floor. Along with her cupboard, and textbooks. From the empty bottle in the doorway, she confirmed her theory. Warren was pissed.
Moving quicker than she would have beforehand, She skipped across the bottle yard, uncaring of the creaking steps and worked her way past the hallway quickly before emerging at the backdoor – unlocking it and stepping backwards.
"He got in, Brett. Not sure about your room but mine is a mess." Brett stepped inside, his arm reaching for her hand to squeeze it. Brett's eyes remained on Aubrey.
The blonde had stayed quietly as she took in the house. The bottles littered the floor in such a way that she could visibly see where the man had been. The kitchen island looked near unusable under the weight, whereas the fridge had only a few bottles cluttered towards the side of the door, likely swiped when he sought sustenance. Her eyes lingered on the puddle towards the corner unit, she didn't even want to think about what caused it. Beer? Water? Sweat? Although the smell in the air was stale there was something that hung around there in particular. She hated herself for observing it further, the pale green tinge towards it made her stomach churn. Urine: it had to be, nothing else could that rancid without stomach acid.
Aubrey's face scrunched up but she refrained from any comments that came to mind. They probably knew it all anyway. There was nothing she could say to fix… this. Stacie kept her eyes on their friend as she got used to her surroundings, keeping a questioning look on her face to ease her nerves. When she received a nod from her, she moved throughout the house with practised ease. Each step avoids a bottle as if they were doing ballet. She didn't need to look behind her as they reached the second floor. Instead, she opted to grab the discarded bag off her bedroom floor. Scoping the remains, she tried to pick the less trashed clothing choices. A baggy tee here, a couple -of newly- ripped jeans there. It didn't take long for the job to be completed and her workbooks to be laid on top gingerly. Some pages stuck together as the paper crinkled with stains. How can he be so drunk if he never keeps any alcohol in the bottle? She didn't want to think about what caused Aubrey to gasp. Looking back at her gave her an idea of what it could be.
The girl's gaze never stayed still for long. Each new turn whipped her hair around like there was an industrial fan in the room. Her eyes were like a typewriter. "This is your room?" Stacie didn't understand the quiet shock in her voice. You've been here before. But that might be the issue. She's never seen it without the hour of cleaning beforehand. Any other time she had managed to go somewhere else.
"Yeah. Sorry for the mess, didn't have time to tidy up for you." Aubrey couldn't say anything to counter her snark. She knew fine well that compared to the girl's double bed with memory foam her single spring-loaded bed wouldn't be good. Nor would the chipped and scratched Chester drawers she has had since she was younger, but they were home. "Let's go check on Brett."
She left before there could be any room for argument. She had seen the look in the girl's eyes when they had made contact. Why is it always pity for her? Yes, her life wasn't perfect but she wasn't so helpless to need pitying. The door to Brett's room was left slightly ajar. There was no use for privacy they were airing all their dirty laundry. She pushed it slightly with one hand as her body stayed outside. Just because they were, didn't mean they had to break all privacy barriers.
"Come on Brett, you ready to go?"
She didn't comment on the rapid shuffling the boy did, or the instinctive push he did with his pockets. He would tell her if it was important. "Um, yeah. Let's go." He grabbed the bag and started to move. Not making any attempt to look her in the eyes. Oh yeah, hiding something. Shrugging, she followed him back outside. Ensuring each door was like they left. While they didn't doubt Warren would notice the change in their rooms, they hoped he would rope it up to the alcohol.
"Everything okay?"
"Yup." They answered in unison.
Let's get out of here. Aubrey took one last look around before stepping behind them, scooping up the cat as she went. It wouldn't do it any good being stuck here.
13.
Their next issue arises soon after. School. The Mitchells were somehow able to ignore the inevitability of returning there, especially with the lack of parental figures in the Posen household. But eventually, the thought had to be brought up.
We can't avoid him forever.
Looking around him, Brett had never felt more averse to that. Stacie had started to speak more openly to Aubrey. They had managed to almost make it back to their previous state of friendship since the night, but seeing how far Aubrey was willing to go to protect them was enough to ease the anger from his sister. The blonde had even stopped Chloe from coming around, even stretching the truth that she had house guests to stop her from suddenly turning up at the door.
Maybe Tex's hugs were more effective than he thought.
She hadn't told the duo what she was doing, but they had overheard it the night before. Voices managed to echo enthusiastically around the rooms. That and they were going for some water. Neither managed to reach the kitchen before they got side-tracked by her whispered yelling. While they should've been focused on the fact that the blonde was keeping a secret, Brett was more relieved that she was not yelling at the top of her lungs. It at least let them breathe a little easier. In return, they didn't ask, well Brett stopped Stacie from interrupting.
She was allowed her secrets.
But the weekend was not to last. The school was just a day away and they were doomed. Not only has Aubrey been abandoning Chloe, but she will likely confront her about it as soon as she gets in the school gates, or when the redhead gets a ride with her. But they will have to face Mr Mitchell and they can't even avoid him, he was her sociology professor.
They hadn't discussed it but he had a sneaking suspicion that the blonde won't let them go without a fight. He wasn't quite sure why she was defending him so much, a promise only justified it so far. Any further and he would start believing she cared for his well being. But the past stated the opposite. And if it just so happened to be for Stacie's sake, he could live with that.
At least she would be safe.
But despite everything, they needed to discuss school. Even if he wishes they could throw the talk off for a few more days, an extended weekend can only last so long before the public holiday would end. Which was in less than 24 hours.
Looking towards the others, their recently carefree smiles reflecting each other's bringing his one out, he spoke. "What are we going to do about tomorrow?" Everybody's smile fell, only one was that of confusion.
Aubrey's eyebrow's skewed themselves as her head tilted. "What do you mean? You come with me, so you can keep up your attendance without raising suspicion, then you can come back with me. Done and done." She made it seem so simple. She – the cheer captain who thought everything to a T – didn't think it all the way through. Even Stacie, who tried to be more blasé about plans thought of one fault straight away.
"What about dad?" Her small voice carried through the room. Her arms holding her knees to her chest.
"You guys don't have any classes with him, so all we have to do is try to avoid him." Again, so simple.
"But you do." That finally sunk in the point. Her eyes clenched momentarily, fighting to keep emotion out of them. When she opened them she tried to convey strength – it fell more into apathy as she uttered a response.
"He doesn't have any grievances with me." Ouch. Two can play that way.
"He'll know that you were the one taking us in."
"Then I'll keep my head down, try and transfer out of his class, or just ignore him if he tries to say anything to me." She was grasping at straws. No matter how much she tried to make it seem easier, they could think of a thousand reasons to dispute her claims. And for each point that flickered through Brett's head, a phantom pain blossomed across his body.
"Ignoring him isn't that good of a thing, trust me." Each of them winced with that one. Sorry.
"I could- I could drop you off a block away, I won't let you walk all the way." The resignation in her voice was more apparent than they ever expected her to be capable of.
"Thank you."
She only nodded before walking down the stairs to make some tea… the slight glistening in her eyes made him think she might take her time with that task.
They kept to the compromise. The next day the blonde left both brunettes two blocks from the school, fifteen minutes early to avoid anyone seeing them. Aubrey hated it but didn't speak on it, opting to instead part with a simple "I'll pick you both up here after school."
Nothing had truly changed at the school. The air was perhaps more stale from misuse than it had been but the students ignored him for his sister. He was thankful for that more so than normal. The only change was Aubrey's eyes, instead of the speculative ones she had previously they were calculating warmly. She was cautious of everyone around them, checking the corridors for someone while she spoke to the other cheerleaders.
Her conversations seemed off. She wouldn't loudly boast or glare at people, instead choosing to help the smaller man. Picking up dropped books or reaching the higher shelves when trying to find books in the library. Even going against one of the jocks for Jesse. Nobody could place why the change happened, the majority of the school population didn't buy it and we're waiting for the other shoe to drop or for her to lure them somewhere to backstab them.
It was creating a stressful, but somewhat enjoyable, atmosphere for everyone involved.
So when, after a week, she joined Brett, Stacie and Jesse at their table, nobody mentioned anything. Sure, there were some looks from the popular clique and an intense one from a certain redhead but nobody spoke against it. They all assumed that she was doing it to keep Stacie in the loop, or just so the brunette could sit with her brother.
They hadn't counted on the student body to whisper their theories throughout the halls, far enough to reach the language corridor. She hated Chinese whispers but this took the cake. It didn't help that she had English with both Chloe and Mr Mitchell – or that the redhead would choose that class to ask her questions. She tried to divert them the best that she could but the redhead would only be staved off for so long.
She couldn't help but release her breath at the sound of the bell.
"Ms Posen, please stay behind class for a moment." His lips tilted into a carefree, if artificial, smile that most students would recognise as his 'fatherly' attitude. It made her sick.
Playing ignorant she continued to his desk. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I know you've had a rat infestation, I would like to send my apologies on their behalf."
"I'm sorry?" She was thankful that Chloe had dragged her into a couple of drama rehearsals, she didn't think she could stop herself from flinching at his language use otherwise.
"My children, I know you've been offering them a place to stay. I'm pleased that you have a good enough heart to take them in but I don't want to put your family out. They can come back home and get out your hair." His voice was warmer than she had ever heard it before.
"I can't in good conscious do that, sir,"
"That's a shame, I had high hopes for you this year." His head was lingering longer than it should. He was searching for something. A tell maybe?
"Excuse me?"
Picking up her homework, he took an exaggerated look at it. "From your past, with me, I know you have an excellent mind, but it seems that this homework has been copied from a previous year." Ignoring her look of outrage he continued. "It's a real shame, it seems that I will have to fail you on this one." She didn't what he was playing but the hairs on her neck stood up, something more was wrong.
"I completed that one myself, the writing is there along with my points from the book. I have clearly depicted that Lady Runcie-Campbell was the greatest evil because of her clearly justifiable, in her mind, reasons for her acts. I gave you clear quotations as well as an outline for the book."
His head nodded along with her point. "While that might be, I can't give you the grade without a sign of good faith." He played with the pages of his book. It was a more aesthetically eye-catching version of 'The Cone Gatherers'. She was starting to hate his nonchalant attitude about this.
There was always a catch. Her shoulders deflated knowing she wasn't going to enjoy his terms. "And what's that."
"My children. They know you, and they know me. They are the perfect… judge of our characters. They can help to persuade your sides of things tonight." There was a gleam in his eyes that she could not believe she hadn't noticed in the last couple of years. It was enough to force a shiver throughout her body. Only able to hide it with a confident step forward.
"I can't do that. If there is a problem with my work then I will fix it, but I will not force your kids to advocate for myself." She was too defensive, too awkward, to be natural. She knew and she knew he knew it if his sharper smile was anything to go by.
"You have a good head on your shoulders, girl. Don't waste it on a brat like him." It was worse than she thought, he genuinely seemed to believe it.
"I'm not." Warren looked towards her, shocked. He was sure that she was protecting him. "I'm protecting my friend, Brett just so happens to be related to her."
No way was she going to admit to being his friend in front of his father. Nor was she going to place it solely on her promise but like hell was she going to let him walk all over those she cared for.
Warren stared at her. Analysing every twitch of her face for even a hint of a lie. Finding nothing but the glint of fear in her deviant eyes he warned her; "You're going to regret this." His tone was lighter than his words.
His satchel flew towards the side from the force of his turn he left with. Aubrey took a shuddering breath. Her drumming heartbeat lowered to a soft drum while she lowered herself to the floor, grounding herself. Her throat burned with effort; no amount of air helped ease the pain.
Her future was gone, he was going to ruin it. Her cheerleading will be gone. Her friends will start to attack her for being unpopular. All her previous victims will start to take revenge on her. Stacie will never forgive her… Stacie. He knew where they were. He knew. He knew. He knew.
She had to warn them.
14.
Thunder stormed its way down the Barden hallways. Echoing through every doorway to its intended target. "Brett!" Aubrey didn't care if it was loud, or desperate, she needed him. Now.
Nothing. No response. She carried on running.
Mathematics? Nope. Geography? Not. Chemistry?
"Aubrey?" Turning around she found a brunette, not the right one though. And despite the dye job, still streaked with pink.
"Jesse! Do you know where Brett is?" Suspicion plagued the man's eyes. "I know you think I don't like him but I need to speak to him. It's about Stacie!" She needed his help, he knew this, she knew this but it was only the mention of Stacie that convinced him. People thought she was only shallow enough to help her friends even with helping people.
If you had asked her three weeks ago, she might've agreed with you.
"He's in the library, I'll show you." He must have sensed her urgency as he started to jog towards the room. Neither wanted to raise any more attention than she already had. Not that there were many people in the hallway looking elsewhere.
The library was a classic public-school library. Cheap copies of every book that had been written in the previous century, most likely donated by previous students who used them for their English assignment for a better grade, not that they read past the first three chapters before finding the quiz notes online. The only books rivalling them in numbers were the YA novels that had all but one book in the series (varying depending on the series) but they were only there to fill out the dizzying cacophony of plastic shelving, painted in tacky bright colours in the wild hopes of bringing joy to learning.
The twisted nature of the librarian's features only brought ruckus and disorder. Nevertheless, the once sprightly young man tried to alter it into a beacon of misplaced optimism. They were fortunate that the children didn't turn into stone with the last librarian.
In the heart of the library, a plethora of tables sat at obscure angles. Each with study parties and varying levels of boredom in each student. The only calm students were those attempting to teach the others. Just because they were in a study group didn't mean they had to enjoy them.
Behind them all was Brett. Fortunately, he was alone at his table. Aubrey rushed past everyone, ignoring the half-hearted 'slow down' from the librarian, towards Brett. Her hands smacked down on the table from the force of her stopping.
His eyes snapped towards the source of the noise. His locking onto hers. "He knows." Her voice is more panicked than out of breath. Although Jesse's descent into his chair was punctuation enough for them both.
"What?" His ears burned. Why did they hurt? He saw her panicked look but his mind was rambling. His thoughts were not even clear to himself but she reiterated them anyway.
"He knows." A pointed look towards Jesse gave him enough information. Shit. "I didn't know what to do."
Think. Think. Think. "We have to tell Stacie." At the very least she could prepare herself.
"How? She's currently in Ms Harris' class. The only way we can let her know without letting him know she knows is to wait until after school when he can get to her."
"What about a family emergency?"
"They would check with your dad."
"Cheer practice?"
"Other members are in that class." They were? He didn't think they would take it.
"Why not a group project?" They both turned towards the pinkette. They both had forgotten he was there in the conversation.
"What?"
"I have a group project with her for history, I could ask if we could work on it."
He raised his eyebrows towards Aubrey before whispering to her. "He doesn't know we're friends, he never cared before." She still looked hesitant but didn't have a better idea so nodded. "Yes please." The boy bobbed his head and got up to leave.
"Do I want to know what this is about?" They both shook their heads forcing him to accept the answer. "Okay, be back soon then."
They sat and waited for him to return. Neither wanted to speak in the silence, they knew that they would get answers to their questions eventually. And even though they were bursting at the seams to ask the other something Stacie could keep them focused. Somewhat.
The wait was torture but when the girl came running in, much like Aubrey they breathed a sigh of relief. Jesse was hanging further back than he was previously offering him a nod before leaving the room. He realised that this was not something to eavesdrop on again.
"He knows?" Déjà vu. Nonetheless, it worked to knock him back towards her wide-eyed expression.
"Apparently." Perhaps a touch too dry of a response on his part.
"What do we do?" Brett will never get used to the thought of his sister willingly following someone's lead, never mind actively trying to find out what they are thinking of doing.
"Nothing." The siblings looked toward her. "Before you say anything, we can't do anything short of handing you two back towards him. We carry on as we have been and leave him to his plotting."
"But he knows where we're staying."
"And he knows who you're staying with. My parents are not to be messed with and won't allow him to pester me, which in turn stops him from coming to the house. We only have to be careful while we are here."
And so they did… for a few days. They had managed to fight off anyone with questions or lingering looks. Chloe had tried to join them, which they allowed but she was never able to stay long before Tom would come to collect her for one reason or another. Brett could see it wain on the redhead. Her bright eyes would cloud over with annoyance more and more as each excuse got worse and worse.
Her breaking point was in the form of an 'I need your help to lace up.' Tom's lower voice recreating his request into a caveman to meet Jane's command. Chloe didn't take it well.
"Seriously! You've been lacing up your pads for years, but now that I am hanging out with my friends, you can't do them? If you are this insecure then you should ask one of your groupies to 'help'."
That was more than just annoyance. "Relax C, I was just asking no need to blow upon us."
"Just asking? I know you, Tom. Don't forget that." With that she stormed out of the room, only the stunned silence of an entire school kept the hall from being completely immobile.
"What the hell's her deal?"
"Fuck off Tom." It was eery how much more impact that sentence could get when spoken with a calmness that should never be there. Even Brett had goosebumps form over Aubrey's words. "You know what you did."
"I'm going to go check on her." The girls waved him goodbye. Aubrey even blocked off Tom who tried to sneak past her to stop him. As someone who had been on the receiving end of one of her 'accidental' hair flips, that stuff stings.
You never realise how convoluted a layout can be until you are finding something. Looking for your phone? It's in the small, never used, crevice of your drawers. Do keys go missing? Check the hook that you have had since you moved in. Looking for your friend? Good luck.
They know just as little about their surroundings when they're upset as you do when overthinking things. One would think that listening out for her tears or footsteps would be simple, but the amount of overly hormonal teenagers in a high school makes that nigh impossible.
How can she be gone? She only had a ten-second head start.
He hated his cardio training now, or the lack thereof. Just as he was going to give up a hand made its way towards his shoulder. "You okay?" Brett released a strained breath.
"I should be the one asking you that, Chloe." The girl in question gave him a cheeky smile.
"Maybe, but I asked first."
"I am now, just glad I found you."
"I believe I was the one to find you, not the other way around." Brett, still concerned, brought his hands up to her cheek. The faint salty trail glistened on her cheeks as she gave him a shuddery breath.
"Are you o-"
"Ms Beale, Mr Mitchell, with me." Damn. Out of everyone why him? He was lucky that Chloe also flinched, he didn't want to come up with an excuse for why he went rigid.
"Of course, Professor Mitchell." She threw on her perfect smile, wiping the remnants of her tears and strutted behind him. It took a little while longer to process that he hadn't moved, or that he would willingly walk into the lion's den.
He didn't pay attention when Brett finally walked into the classroom, choosing to continue speaking to Chloe. "I understand what he might have done but you raised your voice within the school at another student. Under different circumstances that would earn you detention but I am willing to wave that off with just a warning today."
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course, I recommend taking the rest of the day off. Watch some comfort movies and cry your heart out, don't let him make you the bad guy." The soft smile that wormed its way onto his face did little to alleviate her worries.
"What about my attendance?"
"I'll sort that out. You have my class last if you are worried to sit through your next one and I will mark you in during my one but I'll send you home early. What do you think?" Why can't he be this way all the time?
"I appreciate that, thank you." It physically hurt Brett that she was so sincere towards that monster. He was only able to have a warm timbre in his voice for anyone other than his kids. It was enough to make his fists clench involuntarily.
"I'll see you later on just to confirm it's what you want, but right now I need to speak with my son for a moment."
"Of course, I'll see you next period Brett."
"See ya."
Brett waited for the other shoe to drop. There was only so much an active school day would prevent and be alone in a secluded classroom with his father? Added a lot back onto the table.
"She's a nice girl. I don't know what she ever saw in you though." That was something they at least both agreed on.
"Not much if we broke up." Don't let it show. Don't let him in.
Warren chuckled. "That is very true. Although I believe that had more to do with you than with her. It's a shame it's happening all over again. Ms Posen, I believe." He bristled; he knew he bristled but he couldn't brush it off.
"What do you mean. I'm not dating Aubrey." The teacher hummed in thought.
"No, she's too good for that. Sleeping with her, that seems more like it. One last laugh before she turns on you."
"I'm not sleeping with her either." Warren ignored him, carrying on his thought.
"Do you think she will keep you around when she finds out you're the reason behind her future derailing?"
"Unlike you, she cares about us." Stop talking.
"Is that what she told you? Do you believe that the Head-cheerleader with the 4.0gpa is willing to put up with the academic reject whose only friend is the discount Pinky Pie?" Stepping closer, Warren continued. "You must have deluded yourself to start believing this. Stacie is the popular one, she got straight A's and had an army of friends who would give the world to her if she so much as asked, but you Brett, you could only get one boy to somewhat care for you. And even then he wasn't relevant socially."
"If that was the case then why would you treat her the same way you treat me?"
"For you." Brett stumbled back from the revelation. What? No. "You needed the motivation, while I must say I hated every ounce of pain she had to go through for you, it wasn't enough. You still failed to bring a single grain of honour towards us." Warren caught back up to Brett, tilting his head up with a single finger. "You are worth nothing but pain, boy." I know. "Now you finally get the status you were supposed to get, now, not when we needed it, but when you disappoint everyone." I'm sorry. "YOU are the reason that every person you care about is going to suffer, YOU!" Brett didn't try to deflect the splatter of saliva headed his way, nor did he flinch at the volume of his voice. His glassy eyes showed nothing of the conflict within him. His body accepted each blow his father sent his way. His mind shut slowly down.
It's my fault. I'm sorry. I failed you. I hurt you. I did this. I deserved this. I deserved this. I deserve this. I deserve this. I'm sorry…
15.
Aubrey noticed his absence first. While Stacie had been worried about her brother, not seeing him since he left after the redhead, it was Aubrey that got to read Chloe's group message first. The girl had briefly come back before claiming she had to discuss homework with a professor. She hadn't paid much attention to the excuse – her focus more on the door behind them.
Chlo-bear: have u seen Brett?
Aye-aye: Not since lunch. He went to see if you were okay.
Chlo-bear: he did. Prof. Mitchell found us. Said he wanted to talk to B alone
Chill filled her body. She had known that something wasn't right. Brett wouldn't leave them for anything. But, despite her heart pumping ice, her fingers clumsily pattered across the keyboard. Her Posen upbringing allowed it to read normally. No point in raising suspicion with a spelling mistake.
Aye-aye: He should be in your class then. He wouldn't want him to miss it right?
Chlo-bear: Can't see him
Looking at the clock, there were still a few minutes left until class started. He should be back by now. Stacie looked towards her as she started to collect her bag, watching as she made up an excuse to the teacher. One mention of a period and any male teacher looks the other way. While they weren't as close nowadays, the girl could see that something was wrong. Aubrey never typed one-handed, on the move, with only one strap of her bag hanging twisted on her arm.
Aye-aye: You are early tho. Could be running an errand for his dad.
The blonde barely paid attention to the three dots appearing and disappearing as she dragged the other girl behind her. They needed to find him. Now.
Chlo-bear: Yeah, your prob right.
She probably was, didn't mean she had to like the 'errand'. She knew some of the extents that the 'errands' could be. And while she didn't blame Chloe for leaving, her more irrational side – yes, she had one – couldn't help but to pin this on her. She was the last person to see Brett and she chose to leave him with him.
"You take the next floor; I'll take this one." Aubrey had spoken idly. Her mind already scanning the corridors as she made her way down them. The faint footsteps jogging away from her were the only indication the girl had listened.
Each corridor wound up twisting in her mind. Tunnel vision not helping as each sound attracted her attention. The faulty tap of the water fountain. A constant hum from the staff room printer. The now annoying sound of her fellow cheerleader's laughter. Her body moved on autopilot, gracefully manoeuvring throughout the varying corridors as she distracted herself with potential scenarios.
He was fine but hated schoolwork, likely.
Something happened that Chloe wasn't telling them.
His phone died.
He got-
Her phone buzzed.
Ce-Ce: Science toilets, third stall.
She didn't wait to respond. Or comprehend the meaning. Her gut told her what she needed to do and for once she wasn't going to argue for control. Not even the shouting of irritated teachers could get her to stop, only throwing an apology over her shoulder as she passed them. This was more important than potential detention.
Aubrey reached the toilets and despite the small voice saying she shouldn't be entering the boys' toilets, she entered without stopping. "Stacie?"
Slight shuffling and a hushed voice answered her. "In here." She took the next few steps before knocking on the stall door once. The click was audible and stuttered. "Give me a hand." The blonde didn't have time to understand until the door shifted further open in jerky movements. Aubrey moved forwards to brace it. Each nudge was echoed by a muffled groan.
Nudge. An arm hung loosely. Nudge. Stacie's tear-stained face. Nudge. A barely braced torso leaned forward. Nudge. Brett's sweat-soaked head leaned at an awkward angle. Nudge. The door was open.
"Oh god."
Brett shuffled slowly. "Just me." His eyes barely opened but she could see the mirth held within them. Stacie looked at him with annoyance, not just in the 'I'm related to this way.
"Even better." She added a disarming smile to truly sell it.
"If you're all done flirting, want to help me. He's heavy." There was a bite behind it. There always was now. Each attempt to move him had his teeth dig further into his lips. The copper taste never got easier but somehow this was slightly worth it. They don't need to hear that. Eventually, they got him into a standing position.
Training! The class had started.
They all froze. They had gone missing from their last class. They had been marked in, went to the toilet and just disappeared. The teachers would go looking, they probably weren't the only people to hide in the toilets.
"There will be fewer people in the hall if we go now."
"What about the nurse?" They both turned to look at her. "Couldn't we take him there? She would have to check him out."
"They would think it was my bullies. Dear old dad would make sure of that."
"We have to get out of here."
Between them, and the bare attempt at walking, they managed to get Brett's weight at a manageable position for them to move. Manoeuvring doorways took dexterity they didn't possess. Shoulders make for excellent leverages and door stoppers.
The floor they were on was easy to make their way down. It had been five minutes since class started, allowing teachers to become too invested to peer out the windows of the doors. Some students looked their way but dismissed them as skivers.
As they reached the cross-junction for the elevator, they started to fumble. Brett started to stumble under his weight. Stacie leaned him against the wall with Aubrey as she pressed the call button. Aubrey held his cheek in her hand. His eyes blinked to remain conscious. His lips parted in shallow breaths as his free hand cradles his torso.
"Come on, stay with me." His eyes closed for longer periods. "Don't you dare?"
Ding!
"Up you go." Stacie returned to his side. Lopping his arm further to take more of his weight. They make their way inside the lift. Brett made a muted sound as his feet got caught on the slight lip of the entrance. Aubrey turned toward the buttons only to find them highlighted. "Beat you to it." There was a smugness that she couldn't argue with.
Ding!
They made it to the ground floor. "Won't the doors be alarmed!" Aubrey exclaimed as they made it to the double doors.
"Not these. There's a charity elective that the seniors take, they need to leave without causing trouble." Stacie answered. Thought she would've known that.
"Of course, I did." With a held breath, she shouldered the doors, internally cursing the double set of double doors. They didn't have that bad of a pyrotechnic problem. She cursed the complete turn they did to open them together. She managed the first door for Stacie to reach the second set. She imagined that Brett's head was spinning.
Despite her extensive cheerleading training, she wasn't used to carrying people. She was the one to be hoisted and thrown around. Her arms were starting to dwindle under his weight. This was the first time she had truly been consumed with the thought of how sharp a person's elbow could be. If this was what she felt without being hit with the other side she pitied whoever was. This man was pinching her neck with the angle his arm was closing around her neck.
They hastily traversed their way across the parking lot. Trying to ignore the gaze of any classrooms on the bottom floor. They could practically feel the gazes of their peers. Aubrey let go of him with one hand as they reached the last few steps. Her hand reached into her back pockets, almost tripping her up under the weight change. Her hand had just grazed past the button with enough pressure to work. Her car lights flashed.
Finally, they were able to roughly place Brett in the back seat. His eyes had fully closed when his feet were jammed into the space. The pressure has been the only thing keeping him awake. Stacie ran to climb into the other side while Aubrey buckled him in. Stacie took control as she closed his door, gently resting his head on the now-closed door.
Aubrey allowed herself a deep breath before she got in to drive them home. Today had been a trying day and it wasn't even dinner time yet. The trip was a blur one moment she was driving out the gates paying no attention to the potential onlookers then next she was dragging a body into the house and her bed. Gliding towards the medkit while hearing the grunts of exertion from behind her.
It was Brett's exposed purple torso that brought her out of her stupor. While before there had been jagged cuts or blood smears, it was the intact skin that had more impact. Cuts were a sign of aggression something manageable to heal. It told her that they would be able to watch as they heal. The bruises though, were all over and mix-matched in intensity. There was no indicator of any damage prior, yes he was sweating but that could have been a panic attack. It only took the grunts throughout their movements that had told her he was hurt. Even then it was spaced out.
How many times did he go to school in the same state? How many people had bullied him without noticing this? How many people did notice and just didn't say anything? As he said, a boxer with bruises doesn't raise suspicion. God, how many times did she discount what she saw?
"Aubrey!" She quickly moved on at her friend's shout, setting herself to work without voicing anything other than medical supply requests.
There wasn't much she could do. Wrapping the ribs could only do so much, but it would prevent the efficiency of the ice packs. If she didn't ice them the bruises would be worse but if she didn't wrap the ribs, they could heal wrong or hurt more. Basic first aid training can only get you so far.
Washing her hands allowed her a moment to breathe. Every time she looked up towards the mirror his broken body caught her attention. He looked so small, so still. If it weren't for the subtle raise of his chest she would have thought him dead. She was glad they had wrapped a button-up over him. Safe him whatever modesty he had left.
She couldn't stay there. She needed to do something more than wallow. If she stayed there her mind would run with guilt. Did she cause this by letting him go after Chloe? She turned around to walk into the hall.
The numerous deep breaths didn't help her. She could feel the acidic burn in her throat. She rushed into the nearest bathroom before kneeling in front of the toilet. Her throat felt raw after the first two hurls. She hated this. She stayed still, trying in vain to ease the uneasiness in her stomach. From what she had seen there was nothing left in her stomach but acid, not something she'd want to give up. She quite liked her teeth too much to stain them yellow.
She had reached toward the tap enjoying the stream of the cool liquid. She tried to cup enough water into her mouth to make it feel clean. Nothing but toothpaste helped. Her luck didn't change as the light knock on the door happened when her mouth was filled with froth.
"Aubrey? You okay?" Her eyes grew wide. She was expecting the soft vibrato of Stacie, not the deep tenor of her brother. He was supposed to be out of town for another week. She pulled the door open instead of answering.
He took one look at her and then at the toilet. "Again?" He had always rubbed her back when she last got this bad. It had been a while since he had witnessed one. His job had stopped him from visiting for the last couple of months. He waited until she was finished before asking his non-rhetorical questions.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, James."
"Oh? Why's there a cat? Ma and Pa never mentioned getting one." He leaned back against the door frame; his arms crossed. She knew this look. She had been on the other side of this look to know it.
"Stop analysing me."
"I'm worried."
"Don't be." She said, brushing past him to leave. He followed behind her, not quite falling in step with her but reassuring her he was there.
She walked downstairs, sharing a longing glance towards her bedroom. She didn't have a viable explanation for that. She made her way into the kitchen and sat at the stool by the isle. Her brother walked beyond her to turn the kettle on. They didn't look at each other, too lost in their thoughts to care. Aubrey subconsciously petted Tex who had decided to join them on the counter.
James placed a mug in front of her, and the soft smell of lavender made its way toward her. "The cat." It was a soft prompt for which she smiled at.
"He's a friend's. They needed a place to stash him while they work some things out. I volunteered." Not exactly a lie.
"You volunteered."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You aren't exactly known for your selflessness, Lizzy."
"That nickname." Aubrey shook her head. She hadn't heard that nickname in a long time. James, being the oldest, got the first pet in the household. A leopard gecko named, Spot. Aubrey had gotten so jealous she snuck into his room at night just so she could hold them. No one knew until one night she woke the house up with her screams. Nobody told her that their tails could detach. The image of the disconnected tail wriggling beside Spot had haunted her for months. Ever since James would call her Lizzy, at first teasingly, now it just stuck occasionally. "He's Stacie's."
"The cheerleader?"
"Yes." He nodded along with her. She had spoken about her team almost every time they spoke.
"Huh. Where is she now?" Aubrey simply pointed upstairs. "Why?"
"Something happened at school. I didn't want to leave her alone today." Seeing he was about to object she elaborated. "I can't tell you everything, but I found her in the toilets upset, something happened to her brother."
"Don't you hate her brother?"
"I did." She admitted.
"What changed?" Aubrey looked towards her mug. She wasn't proud of her actions since confronting him in the field but was that enough?
"I got to know him. He's a lot more complex than I thought he was."
James smiled teasingly at her. She knew he was trying to keep things light-hearted, and while she usually appreciated that, her mind wouldn't let her commit to it completely. "Not the narcissist who thought himself better than everyone?"
"I didn't say that about him."
"You didn't say it, but you thought it." He grabbed her hands. "I know you, you might not show it but you care deeply. If you care for him then he can stay."
"Thank y-" She stopped before staring at him in shock. "What?"
"The boy in your bed. That's the brother, right? I mean it's either that or I need to give him a serious talk about sleeping in my little sister's bed." She nodded. "Then he can stay."
He smiled cheekily as he grabbed his mug. Holding it loosely amongst his fingers he waved behind him as he left. "Keep the door open!"
"James!"
Aubrey watched as he left. She hadn't meant for him to find out but if he had somehow found Brett and didn't lash out, she didn't know what to do. While this would make it easier for them to move around the house, she didn't think they could truly hide what was happening. Alternatively, if he was 22, he might provide an insight that they never thought of before.
"You have a brother?"
"How much did you hear."
"None? I ran into him as he was going up the stairs. Should I have heard something?"
"No, he knows about Brett though." She hurried to continue seeing Stacie's eyes well with betrayal. "He walked into my room and saw him. Not anything else."
"Really?"
"Only that something happened to him. I didn't go into detail."
"And he's okay with a boy in your bed."
"Probably not." Stacie smiled. Finally, break your own rules.
"Look, Bree. I need to apologise." The blonde to her credit didn't try to interrupt. "I was a jerk about what happened. You aren't to blame for any of this. So, I'm sorry."
Aubrey's face contorted with confusion and by default, acceptance. She hadn't thought the girl had been acting irrationally. If it were her or James in Brett's place, she'd be a wreck and she couldn't deny that her actions would filter into recklessness. Hell, her actions already are and she's not even directly in the crosshairs of this.
"I accept." And while she was tempted to apologise for her abrasiveness and demands towards the start, she couldn't bring herself to verbalising any of her thoughts.
16.
Brett's mind swarmed with memories. He was vaguely aware of the pain he felt as his body turned but it was never enough to bring him into the world of complete consciousness. He could feel more than hear the faint purring from his side. Tex. Always there. No masseuse in the world could provide the amount of sheer content that Tex brought. The hum managed to find just the right space in his heart to quell all but the toughest turmoil within. With only the slight side effect of working his exhaustion into his very bones.
Each shot he thought he had at regaining any consciousness was diminished soon after they were conceptualised. Each of his heartbeats pushed him further into the abyss. His ears were beginning to fail, picking up the few minute noises in the background. His eyelids grew too heavy for his head, pushing his soul further into the mattress.
Eventually, his mind was only left to wander. Reflect. Mirror. Echo. Whatever it was called. He was too comfortable in his current space to do much more than let it. He dreamed of the better days. Days where Carla Mitchell would be waiting at the school gates to greet her family. Days where his father's eyes were filled with adoration and a light-heartedness. Where Stacie was starting to grow adventurous in her interests. Gymnastics, guitar and dancing were his new past-time as he was dragged to most of her practices.
He was drawn through each stage of his past that he could remember. He wasn't sure if it was torture or a special case of love that it was disjointed. His mind flicked from memory to memory by the slightest similarity. His mind twisted itself with the attention span of an undiagnosed ADHD toddler.
Stacie dancing her first solo transformed into her cheer try-outs – before Aubrey was the captain. Cheerleading left him to the football games where he became the lucky charm. (Dunk his head before each game and you were sure to win. If you didn't then you weren't doing it enough). Which left him stuck in his short-lived time on the swim team. One too many times spent choking up chlorine-filled water brought him too far down the rabbit hole. Somewhere he truly wished he could've avoided it. He was choking on his blood. Could feel the burn make its way further down into his lungs.
Brett's body twisted in discomfort. He could remember this day vividly. It was towards the start of the punishments. Back when Warren hadn't thought of hiding things subtly. He had come back from the cheer practice with Stacie, Aubrey and the others hanging further in front of them as they approached the Mitchell Residence.
It had started to get dark out and while the others were happy to keep going, Brett was too busy checking his watch to ever enjoy it completely. Warren had left enough of an impression to lure his thoughts towards him at all times. What he would think; how he would react; how loud things were going to be… how capable Brett would be left at the end of it all. While things weren't terrible, they had steadily declined. From a spontaneous slap to a thrown glass, the boxer could never accurately predict his father's behaviour. There was no pattern.
Until that day.
Warren had been upset that they stayed out too late. Where most parents would lecture and potentially ground their children, the professor took a different approach. He had forced them to endure his 'hardships'. Brett had tried to resist, still too spry for his good, but a well-placed book throw had knocked the wind out of his throat long enough. His body hunched over as he did in the memory. Each gasp for air became more urgent. Warren didn't pay attention to his choked gasping. His stumbling was aiding in his imposing figure, each foot thundering down with force in an attempt to keep the man upright. Only the quick swipe of his hands threw him off balance for a moment, even then the bottle he had picked up was seemingly worth it. His maniacal chuckles gave it away.
"You stupid Brat!" was the only explanation he ever received. The drunkard had pinched his jaw tight, opening his lips slightly in his grasp while clenching his teeth a touch too much for comfort.
Brett had tried to keep his eyes closed, to disassociate what was happening to his father. This was not the man that raised him. This was simply an invader looking for fun.
Then the liquid started. Even with his teeth tightly clenched together the slow drip of acid made its way between them, in any gap they could find. The liquid got caught in his throat, waterlogging them. The puddle collected burned but what worried Brett more was the casual way it dripped through his teeth. His father prolonged it, casually tipping his latest whisky bottle over Brett's head. Forcing him to drink it all.
A soft petting brought him out of his dream long enough to catch his breath. He could vaguely make out hushed whispers but nothing he wasted time upon discovering. With his eyes closed, so naturally, it was all too soon he found himself back in memory land. Thankfully it was something more uplifting.
It was only two months into his new routine. The school was on break, for now, shifting his focus into anything that could get him, or Stacie, out of the house. Fortunately, the only upside to having a teacher as a parent is that they know what type of curriculum the next year will bring. It allowed them a head start on the next school year. It also had the upside of letting them use the library in town. Too many books had been found that previous year to be stolen or vandalized. Only those with permission or a community invite were allowed access to the building's resources.
The siblings had started up a daily routine that allowed them to get a few minutes of reprieve in the book labyrinth.
Brett couldn't remember the project they had been working on when the storm happened. It wasn't horrendous, a simple downpour that prevented any visibility to those without goggles. Nevertheless, they made their way to the library, only to be met with a distressed damsel wishing to enter the building. Her cherry red hair stood out in the grey town. Only her stuttering gave away her true distress.
But the librarian was a stickler for the rules. She didn't fall into the criteria that allowed her access, so she was left stranded outside with an apathetic audience.
Brett couldn't stop himself from asking if he could help her at all.
"It's raining cats and dogs out here! I'm trying to get somewhere warm."
He nodded. Looking around him there weren't any other options to go to, all cafes were closed due to rain and department stores weren't known for their heating.
"Come on." He grasped her gloved hand and pulled her inside. His previous visits allowed the staff to recognise him from the get-go. Saving them the awkward pat down for his library card that was… somewhere. "She's with me." Was uttered in lew of a greeting.
Perhaps the brisk air had seeped into his brain forgoing any manners whatsoever.
The girl had only uttered a thank you before curling up at one of the tables. Brett couldn't help but follow her lead. It wouldn't have done them well to get caught in a lie. The girl didn't object, she didn't even lift her head from the heap that she had thrown herself into.
"Are you okay?"
"Totes." Was mumbled amongst the pile.
"Can I get you a hot drink to warm you up?" Her head peaked out, her eyes glazed with a look akin to adoration. Her head nodded childishly drawing attention to her red button nose. Brett could only laugh at the adorableness.
"I'll be right back."
Brett couldn't remember what had caused him to offer her a drink that day, nor to provide an intervention while they were at the door. He couldn't even remember what they had spoken about when he had returned but he could remember the sight of the soaked Chloe curling herself around the travel mug. Muttering only a simple, "We are going to be fast friends." But even then, whether she was speaking to the mug or him was a mystery.
Chloe had been meeting them by the library every second day like clockwork. The girl was always there before they arrived with three coffees in hand. Claiming it was to repay them but after the first 3, they had been even. Brett had even tried arriving earlier to get her coffee first, but they had met in the shop. Her scowl of disappointment was almost enough for him to feel repentant. It felt as if his mother had dragged him back by the ear. He didn't like that feeling.
"Want to go somewhere instead?" The redhead had spoken up after thirty minutes of mindless page-turning. None of them could care about the books they had selected that day. Typically, it would be a great conversation starter.
"I'm game." Stacie had spoken quickly.
"Awes. There's supposed to be a carnival a town up."
"Really?" Brett couldn't stop the trepidation in his voice. It had been years since the last carnival had been anywhere near here.
"Yip, for the next three days. A friend of mine invited me to go tomorrow, care to go just now?"
He wanted to question how she could want to do the same thing two days straight but then thought better of himself. He didn't have a leg to stand on right now. "Sure."
"Great, let's go!" The librarian had to shoosh her to lower the enthusiasm level around the table. Stacie didn't even try to conceal her excitement on the matter.
The carnival had been loud and flashy. Everywhere you went the sound followed you as the lights forced a migraine into even the youngest of minds. But even throughout this, he could hear Stacie's giggle as she won a stuffed toy or Chloe's squeal as she ran into the queue for every ride. Even the rushed exit from the rides after eating a deep-fried… something, he honestly wasn't sure what it claimed to be, but the memory was certainly something to remember. The lines were bare as no one wanted to go during the day and the food was fresh from each stand. And the photobooths had plenty of fun filters to get applied.
It was the best day he had in a long time.
They had started to leave when the rain started. None of them had brought any jackets as the weather was holding up to the promises of the summer months but the showers continued from April. They had laughed as they tried to outrun the storm clouds, only making their clothes weigh extra with the water weight. Brett had stood in so many newly formed puddles that his foot would squelch with every step he took. But not even that could dim his grin.
Chloe had followed soon after, only slowing down when her ears caught something. Brett was too busy controlling his panting to pay much attention to any background noise but even Stacie's head had whipped towards the dumpster nearby.
Chloe looked as if she had been drawn towards investigating the disturbance. He had started to walk towards the woman at that point. A soft mewing noise was coming from the dumpster. Or beside it, as Chloe seemed to have spotted something more. She had reached down to scoop something up, pulling it towards her person.
"You're just a cutie aren't you." Her voice rose a couple of octaves. "Yes, you are." She was coddling the creature as she turned around. The creature couldn't even be the size of a seagull but his eyes looked like enough trouble to rival a raccoon. She looked down at it again. "Wow, you're just a cute little Texan aren't you?"
"A Texan Chlo?" Stacie had questioned.
"Look at him and tell me he isn't a cowboy." Closer to inspecting the kitten he could make out the faint shift in fur colour by the cat's hind paws. It looped around both legs giving a mild resemblance to that of boots but even then he couldn't see why it was considered a cowboy.
"Aw, look at your head. Truly patriotic." Even Stacie had started to coo at the cat, stroking carefully at its cheek.
The cat tried to make more eye contact with Brett. His eyes seemed to home into him like a missile. On his scalp with a lighter patch of fur, in the shape, of Texas.
"Fucking Hell."
Brett choked himself awake as his smile turned his mouth dry. The glass at the bedside table had been refilled and the straw was conveniently aimed at him. Must've been out for long if the ice melted. The condensation was his only entertainment as he worked up towards holding it in his hands. The water droplets were sure to ruin Aubrey's furniture. But throughout it all, Tex had stayed by his side "Good kitty." He fought to give the cat a good ear scratch.
"How are you doing?" A deep voice called from the doorway. Brett could only blearily make out the blond hair and blue eyes before his response kicked in.
"Like a basket full of kittens fell off a fridge at me." His eyes widened as his words caught up to him.
The man laughed a broken chuckle. "You know saying 'hit by a truck' works just as well, right?" There was more humour in his tone than snooty correction syndrome.
"Probably." Brett looked back at the man. "I'm Brett."
"So, I've heard." He walked closer. "I'm James, Aubrey's brother." His hand automatically went out in front of him in greeting. It was quickly retracted when Brett's face contorted in an attempt to reciprocate the action.
"She has siblings? I thought she would have eaten them when they were young." Was his attempt to defuse the awkward lull that had taken hold.
"She tried, but I was older not so easy that way." James sat down beside him, holding the glass towards him.
"Thank you."
"Can I get you anything else?"
"I'm alright." James settled the blanket around Brett's chest, effectively tucking him in. "Yell if you need anything."
Brett couldn't fight his body's delight at the warmth. His body was cocooned in the utmost comfort and even his eyes couldn't help the pull they felt towards it.
"Please? My mom won't let me keep him."
"My dad would kill me if he found out."
"But he doesn't know, he won't be looking for him."
"What about your friend? The one who invited you to the car, can't they take him?" He hadn't wanted to know how his father would react to finding a kitten in his home.
"They already said no." She had a guilty and slightly sullen look now.
"So I'm the last choice." He had meant to say it more jovially, but Chloe's face fell at it.
"NO! I know Stacie fell in love when we found him, I thought you would want him."
"Fine, I can't make any promises, but I'll try."
"Thank you!" With that Chloe reached up to press a kiss on his cheek. "I'll bring him the next time we meet here."
He hadn't liked the cat. It had actively gone to do the toilet in Warren's shoe and while Brett wanted to laugh at the situation, staring down the irate eyes of a mad man was enough to render him mute. He couldn't stop himself from vocally reacting to his father's 'lessons'. Each subject was enough to immobilise part of his body. But while there were grunts and garbled groans, none was enough to answer his father's questions.
As far as Brett was concerned; he didn't know where the cat came from, nor did he know a Chloe Beale. He had never met her before.
Soon his father agreed. Or let him off, he didn't know which thought was worse. But no matter which side he was, the basement door opened enough for his body to plummet into the abyss for the night.
He had to borrow Stacie's makeup for the next rendezvous with Chloe. His eyes were open enough to watch his journey across town. And that was good enough for him.
He hadn't spotted the car following him. He wished he had. If he had been more careful none of this would have happened. "Hey, son. I need your help at the house." He had just been speaking to Chloe in front of the library when the car pulled up. His father's head popped out of the rolled window. Only the gleam in his eyes could reveal the true nature of his teacher's smile.
It was disarming to Chloe enough that he couldn't even argue as she let him go with Warren.
"She's pretty. It would be a shame if something happened to her."
Brett could vaguely make it out as he lay on the floor. Something needed to change.
Brett woke up in a cold sweat. The pain does not register as he bolted upright and out of the bed. His chest heaved with the effort it took for fresh air. He couldn't make it to the voice but he could feel reassuring arms allowing him to collapse physically. His mind whirred too much to switch back off.
17.
James had wandered throughout the house continuously since he had to find Brett in his sister's bed. While she had claimed not to be in trouble, that this was simply dues to something happening to the Mitchell boy, something didn't sit right. He had held him as he screamed, had watched as blood-soaked its way into the bandages. This was something more than bullying. It was unusual for someone to pick on someone that the queen bee didn't approve of first.
If Aubrey had said that she was okay with Brett now, then someone messing with him would be considered wrong. He was now hers in a sense. He needed answers and while he could respect some of the privacy she needed, he also needed to know what danger his sister was in.
"What's happening?" He had found his sister and Stacie in the kitchen.
"I can't tell you, I told you that."
"True, but she can." He gestured towards Stacie.
"Nothing is happening," Aubrey interjected before Stacie could utter a syllable.
"Then why did I just stop Brett from screaming himself awake as he cowered from a Warren? Why were his bandages bleeding to the point I could see it through the shirt?"
"Brett!" Stacie had lept up to go towards the room only for a slurred voice to respond.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"'m fine." He dropped into the seat on the island. "Warren's bad man."
"I gathered."
Brett's head leaned against the marble countertop as his arms wrapped protectively against his torso, his eyes clenched with effort.
"Father." James, much like Aubrey, was observant and quick to understand.
"He did this to you. At school." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." Stacie ground out anyway.
"Why?"
"Because he can." Was Stacie's answer while Brett responded "He blames me for something."
"What?"
Brett gulped. His throat had tightened too much for verbal communication. "Something that wasn't his fault." Stacie's eyes bore into him with purpose. She was making him believe her answer.
"Sorry about your bed, Bree." This was the closest topic change that would have been allowed at that moment.
Aubrey looked down at the boy. Taking in his red splotched shirt as he tried to explain himself. She hadn't noticed that one. She hadn't treated that one. "I'll go sort it." She couldn't tell him not to worry.
"Jesus Brett!" Stacie had noticed it as well apparently. "Come on, let's get you seen to."
Brett had shook his head no, stopping Stacie in her tracks. His discomfort looked more fearful than anything to do with Stacie's medical expertise.
"I'll patch it up if you're okay with that?" Surprisingly it was James who had spoken softly.
"Please."
"You two, go upstairs and sort out the bed, I'll sort him out just now." The girls reluctantly made their way upstairs. James took hold of the kitchen first aid box and kneeled in front of the younger boy. "Are you alright?"
Brett's answer was to swiftly take his shirt off, not wanting to waste any time thinking of his future discomfort. James carefully unwrapped the bandage and then took off the gauze. The man's face shifted from calm to blank. Brett knew he was concealing his true feelings on the matter for his sake.
"Why?"
"Because it's true."
"How?"
"Mom." That was the only explanation he got.
James made quick work of cleaning the cuts. Careful to not agitate the patient. "They're not deep enough to get stitched." The closing tape got placed to hold the different sides of the wound closed. Once done, gauze was placed on top and a bandage was carefully wrapped back over it to hold it all in place.
"Does she know?" Brett wasn't sure which 'she' he was on about.
"No."
A knock was heard at the door.
James' hands were coated in a thin layer of blood preventing him from answering it.
"I'll get it."
"Thanks, Brett."
The redhead tried to steel her nerves as her feet dragged her towards her friend's house. She had no reason to think negatively about this. Sure, Aubrey had started to become friendly with her ex, even to the point of sharing seemingly meaningful glances at him. Even if they had hung out after school enough for the boy's father to know about them being a couple before she did (although he did not seem happy about the development).
Her knuckles rapped on the door before she could fully put together a comprehensive thought. Although she knew that someone was home, with each passing moment, the hope that they would ignore her was growing quickly. She didn't know if they had answers that she would even want, never mind accepting.
Her body was slowly turning around. She couldn't do this, she can't just confront them, they had to tell her out of their own decision, not this. She couldn't do this to them. That wasn't what she would want, and even if she wasn't sure she wanted them together, she had respect for her friend not to do this.
Before she could clear the yard, the door opened.
"Chloe?" Her eyes clenched shut as she forced herself to replace her grimace with something akin to a smile.
"Hey, Brett."