Author's Note:- Getting back into writing this one took more time than I thought it would but I was too close to completing it to just discard it...
My brain hurts from trying to match this writing to the other chapters... I hope I can call this the last chapter. Just let me know if it seems as rushed as I think it might be, I've been going back and forth between the sections so I can't tell anymore. I am needing to proof read this but my eyes are hurting so I am going to check this over when I wake up...
Part 4
24.
Brett wasn't sure what he was expecting to face that day. He had spent so long cowering to the same hand that had let him walk away with nothing more than a numb cheek and a guiding hand. The blonde beside him had never crossed his mind as the one to become his rescuer but, looking back on it, it had always seemed inevitable that he would return to the beginning.
He was trapped in a room with a teacher staring at him with a critical eye, yet he had never been happier. He could spend eternity looking at the nurse's eyes while she evaluated how bad his cheek was. It's probably not a good time to mention that I have had worse... Even with the thought being true he couldn't prevent himself from flinching at each new prod.
The room had nothing within its walls to distract from the pain. Between the sterile units and boxes of disposable gloves, he was stuck attempting to read a woman's soul from her eye contact. Not that it was that easy. The woman had clearly spent years trying to calm down patients with a single look.
Her hazel eyes reflected his concern and pain. Her level of empathy was becoming too much. Looking away, Brett looked at Luke. The boy had yet to leave him since the classroom. Instead of questioning him further, he had opted to remain vigilant. His eyes never left the door except to look at him. Something he wasn't sure was a good thing at the time. But the steel lurking just below the surface convinced him that he might have gotten lucky that day. Thank you. He knew that he saw his unconcealed winces when the nurse inspected his ribs. She hadn't lifted his shirt but with how he was acting he knew she knew something more had happened.
"While I don't like this, you can go now. Remember to keep icing your cheek every few hours to prevent swelling." The nurse sat back on her rolling chair. Her eyes sparked with concern as she asked her question, "Are you okay Brett?" Her voice was sincere in her worry.
Brett smiled minutely back at her. "Nothing I'm not used to." He reached for his bag, lifting it off the table base before glossing passed the startled icy look on her face. No sense in hiding the truth. Just one more witness on the pile. Let her add the pieces together.
"Ready to go Brett?" Luke dragged the bag from his grasp before offering his own hand to support his ascend. Looking at him, Brett could tell his words struck a chord within his memory. Nothing to be sorry for.
A carefree smile and a partially forced gleeful tone took over his voice. "Never been more ready to leave in my life. Thank you, Nurse Maggie." She only gave him an upside-down smile and a soft nod of her head.
Luke held the door open for him to walk through. The blinding light of the sun sent his hand to his forehead. His palm only halts the sunbeams from piercing his head into a migraine marginally. Luke laughed at the number of wrinkles the instinctive scrunching of his eyes produced. They had just made it to the bottom of the steps when a voice called out behind them.
"You idiot!" Brett turned around too quickly, his vision blurring the surroundings. Blinking away the smeared world, he returned to the real version just in time for Aubrey to stare him down, Stacie remaining a few steps behind her. "What on Earth were you thinking? No, scratch that. You weren't thinking. You never are. You thought you would just wander into his office and nothing would happen? That he would simply apologize and you'd hug and make up?" Before he could explain himself to Stacie, she had already dragged him into a bear hug. His arms locked straight by his sides while her arms tremored around him. The soft earthquakes she created rocked a sense of ease into him.
"I'm sorry." He whispered into her ear. His arms rose as much as he could to lock around her with equal vigour. A wet snort sounded in response before her head nestled into his shoulder. She shouldn't have to be this upset.
"No, you're not." Brett could feel his smile widen at Aubrey's interruption. She could at least let me live in denial. Peering over his sister's head, he shared his smile with her, the soft gleam remaining in his eyes.
"No. I'm not." He confirmed. No more lies. "What are you two doing here?" As much as he would like to carry on with his day as if nothing had happened, he couldn't help but be curious about why they would be standing in front of the school.
"It's Monday, Brett." Aubrey deadpanned. Looking around, Brett could only see the few cars arriving belonging to the teachers. No other students loitered around them. Only the solitary group around him, even then they were outnumbered by the very lines marking up the parking lot. Where were they?
"Where's everyone else then?"
"They're inside." He looked back to Stacie, he was sure they hadn't crossed paths with a single student on their way out.
As if sensing his thoughts, Luke spoke out. "We didn't see anyone in there. It was just us and the nurse in there."
"And with that thought process you are lucky you are cute," Aubrey cut in. He could see how the boy's lips twitched in pride at the compliment before the true meaning sunk in. "When a teacher is caught in less than desirable positions the school closes temporarily to conduct an investigation. They are treating this more as a squabble between family members so they closed off certain corridors from the student populace."
"What she is saying is that they wrangled up all the students and set them loose on the other side of the school." Stacie clarified.
"They are cornering off his classroom as they wait for the police to arrive." The other girl turned to her in surprise.
"How do you know that much? I didn't know that the police were called."
"My mom's a lawyer," Aubrey spoke as if it were obvious.
"Not a teacher." As if that made any sense.
"As entertaining as this is, it doesn't explain what's going on."
"Until the police come by to talk to you and Dr Mitchell, anyone with the classes in those corridors will be given a free period. Only those who are in the know are permitted to wander the halls, otherwise, you will be forced to stay in the cafeteria or library during these periods." As if on cue, sirens started to be heard in the distance. "The cops will ask you about what happened."
Brett knew his head should be spinning, that the thought of the police hounding him with questions that he wasn't sure he was willing to answer should be a thought that instilled him with fear. And yet, his head was as clear in that moment as it had been when he had entrusted Aubrey to be their knight in shining automobile. It was an uncomfortable nibbling that itched at his brain but his clarity had shone through his torment.
The answer only solidified when Stacie looked at them.
"Bring it on." Aubrey practically whooped at his words if it hadn't of been for the potential of an audience. Stacie's face held more restraint. Her eyes bore into his own as if searching for an answer to a question not even uttered.
"I'll be there."
Luke took that as an opportunity to add his own words. "We'll be there." His words should've fallen on deaf ears. His sister's words held more impact than his and yet the sentiment was not lost on him. The thought of the blonde boy not wishing to leave him again was noble if not a little late by his standards. Aubrey had wanted to bring him into the fold from the second she had suspected something was wrong, and the kid took the blissful ignorance that was offered upon the first chance he had.
But, timing-wise, he was sure there were worse ones that could have been chosen. If he hadn't entered when he had then Brett was sure something worse would have followed the slap. If it hadn't been Luke that walked in the door then he was sure no other teacher would be in the know and would be willing to stand up for them. Stop thinking so much, you're spiralling.
He wasn't sure how long they would have before hell rained down upon them, but until then he would take enjoyment from the menial conversation that it soon transformed into.
The police took their time to start their questioning. He had long since been pressed into the chair before him. The officers not once uttered a word beyond instructions for him to follow. They had not touched him past a soft leading arm. Brett wasn't sure what he was expecting when things had finally come to light but, once he was in the room, he truly wondered if things were truly revealed.
"Why were you in school so early today Brett?" All things considered, Brett would have thought the starting question could have been worse.
"I was staying over at a friend's house last night-"
"Yes, Ms Posen's I believe."
"No. Chloe's. Chloe Beale." His eyes latched onto the surprise in the officers. This shouldn't have been so enjoyable to catch them in a lie. "I had a panic attack in the morning and went out for some air, figured I'd clear my head on the way to school."
"We were told that you had been staying at Ms Posen's house for a few days. Are you saying that is wrong?"
"Yes, no?" His face scrunched up as his mind whirred trying to find the right words.
"Which is it? Yes, or no?"
"Yes and no. I had been staying over at hers while her mom was out of town but when she got back they got in an argument so we decided to calm down at Chloe's."
"From our record, you and Ms Beale do not have the best track record together."
"We broke up sir. Or I ghosted her during the summer." No point in hiding the past now.
"And just why was that?" His tone turned darker like he wasn't expecting the admittance to be honest.
"What does this have to do with what happened?" While he was willing to answer questions, he wasn't sure of the relevance behind the questioning.
The Officer seemed to understand the way his mind was turning. His voice softened enough to be forthright without condescension. "It would be best to know why your father has reported that you haven't been staying at your place of residence while underage."
Tilting his head downwards, Brett thought over his next words. "I didn't want to go there in the first place... It was Aubrey's idea to go to Chloe's." Have to keep them on the hook.
"But who decided to go to Ms Posen's?" The uncoordinated kicks to his stomach all the while his phone screamed in his place.
"It wasn't much of a decision." Readjusting himself on his seat, Brett took a deep breath. Why was it so hard to breathe in the room? Were the windows closed? "I was in too rough of a state to be making much of a decision. Aubrey had dropped us off after a day out to reconnect with Chloe when she phoned Stacie."
"If she had dropped you off then why would she feel the need to phone you?" The verbal assault Stacie received before being thrown away like a discarded toy.
Taking another breath, Brett's voice quivered. The bottle smashed off the staircase wall. "Because she heard shouting and was worried." How Warren had yelled at him until he tried to blend into the paintwork. How his back hurt for weeks after the belt had long since fallen to the floor.
"What happened when you made it into her house?"
"I don't remember." I don't want to remember.
"You don't remember?"
"It's a blur, sir." Too much sass. "I couldn't think past what was happening. Both Stacie and Aubrey helped me into the car. Then they helped me into the house. I can't tell you how long the ride was or even what was spoken. I was too busy trying to remain conscious."
"Conscious?" I have to do this. For Stacie.
"I-" His words hung densely within his throat. All his thoughts escaped him as images shone behind his eyelids. He could still feel the imprints where his father had been. How the ride had jostled his body until the pain flashed behind his eyes. His only waking thoughts were plagued with the wish to remain awake long enough to find out where they would be left discarded.
One of the cops seemed to realise his turmoil. His knees cracked while he bent down to Brett's eye line. "What did he do to you, son?" His own hand rested upon Brett's knee, forcing his eyes to raise up. The tears that swarmed in his eyes burned fiercely.
He wanted to fight with his mind. Wanted to stand tall as he condemned his Father for all that he deserved. And yet seeing the true concern directed towards him forced the dam to break. His tears fell just as loosely as his words.
Everything was going to start to be a bit more lively around here...
25.
The school had been in an uproar since that day. The students talking in what they had deemed a hushed whisper. Rumours flew faster than Brett could keep up with. He knew the most story included steroids but he doubted how they explained Warren being escorted out in handcuffs. But then there weren't many students around to watch the spectacle. The main group deemed it was a way to keep everything hush-hush. Not that he could blame them but a small (large) part of him wished the school had seen his dead man walking parade.
Yet, he couldn't deny the catharsis that being out of the spotlight brought him. The school might have known something happened, but they didn't know what. And until that point, he could sit back and laugh at their theories.
His favourite so far was the illustrious affair. That a student had been caught sending messages to their English teacher only to blame them when they were caught. It would've almost worked had his father not condemned himself to be stuck with a stick up his arse.
The days strung together in the beginning. Brett and Stacie had been excused from school while the investigation continued. And, although they were still staying with her, Aubrey was not granted the same privileges. Something she wasn't thankful for until she saw people clambering up to Chloe hoping for some tea to spill. Something Chloe wasn't sure she had the answer for.
While Brett had been willing to fill her in, she had stopped him from doing so the second she realised what might have been revealed. She knew she could blame it on not wanting to exhume painful memories; it wasn't the truth. She knew she didn't want to know. That hearing his story would bring up an unrivalled guilt she wasn't willing to bare.
So, as her peers hounded her for the facts she so desperately repelled she knew that everything was changing. Mr Mitchell was gone, dragged out some had said, and her friends weren't appearing on school days either. The only person who hadn't hounded her was Luke. The boy had spent more time meerkat-ting above the crowd than being aware of what he was doing.
Aubrey, unknowingly, had mirrored Luke's actions. Her head shone above those around her until she saw a familiar blonde looking back at her. Her elbows took the brunt of the crowd from forming around her until she met with Chloe, her arms relaxing themselves to hold onto her for dear life.
"How are they?" Luke asked as she eased from her embrace.
"They are holding up. A bit stir crazy but nothing they can't handle."
"Who?" Chloe already had an idea who they were discussing but she wasn't one to make assumptions anymore.
"Brett and Stacie, they're under house arrest," Luke easily replied, much to the pleasure of prying ears.
"...Mr Mitchell?" Chloe was hesitant to bring up his name.
"The cops are holding onto him," Aubrey admitted bitterly. She liked that he was being detained but until they held a trial for the monster, he could become a free man if he got someone to pose bail for him.
Chloe bit her tongue in time for the bell to ring. The sound had never seemed so shrill to her ears before. While the student body had maintained a hushed buzz around them, the second any one of her friends spoke it made the hall still. For better or for worse. Not that Chloe would deny the peaceful quiet wasn't lovely to witness, she wasn't so fond of the stigma that followed behind it.
But, never the less, they went to their classes, or what remained in Aubrey and Chloe's cases. The English corridor had been opened the day after the incident but Warren's classroom had remained closed during the cops' inspections. Until today. Today there was no casually dressed bodyguard posted outside its confines. The door itself hung wide open. Almost inviting them to walk closer.
They moved in tandem towards their seats. Their eyes moved loosely over everything in sight. Almost everything remained where they remembered it to be. All except the teacher's desk. The man had particular ways of arranging the mountain of paperwork littered on his desk. The desk now sat bare, except for his lonely nameplate, something which remained sitting neatly on the desk corner.
Just as the second bell blew, a pair of long legs walked through the door. Their mouth moved a mile a minute gathering the class's attention without trying. Where her classmates' hands sought to find something to write with as the voice demanded; Aubrey's mind condemned itself to spiral into turmoil. Only one word remained eligible among the thoughts.
"Mom?"
Aubrey had never been so thankful to have Chloe in her classes than in that moment. She knew that her mom was teaching a class. Her class. But her mind could not translate the tongues that she was speaking into the English that Chloe seemed to be writing down. It was a small spark of comfort she needed to know that even if she never uttered or wrote down a word that her friends would at least be able to attempt to explain it later to her.
Until she could make sense of what was happening she was left to spend her time observing the way her mom floated around the room with ease. That she stepped up to the slackers around the room to ask them a question Aubrey could never answer in the moment with an air of easiness that had her mildly jealous.
Mrs Posen didn't once stop to look the blonde in her eyes as she lectured. The books she would gesture with would be placed almost instantly before she moved on to her next teaching prop.
From where she was sat, she knew that the boys in the class were enraptured with the new substitute. So she waited until her mother dismissed the class. Letting them leave five minutes early according to the clock.
Both she and Chloe waited for the classroom to filter empty, the teens not willing to wait and see if she changed her mind. "Mom?"
"It's Mrs Posen today," Her gaze went towards Chloe. "And you must be my daughter's friend." Her sentence hung loosely towards the end despite knowing the answer from her daughter's ramblings.
"Chloe Beale Ma'am." She offered her hand towards the woman. "Can't believe we haven't met before now."
"Nor I." Before more pleasantries could be exchanged, Aubrey spoke up. Neither Chloe nor Mrs Posen commented on the abruptness of her voice.
"Since when do you teach?"
"When my daughter's teacher gets detained and I am not permitted to work the case due to conflicting interests." She deadpanned
"What's going to happen to him?"
"If they can gain enough evidence then he could get put away for a long time. But considering how long it went on for without being spotted there is a good chance that he could get a more lenient sentence with the right lawyer on his side." Looking her daughter in her eyes, she reaffirmed. "He isn't going down without a fight. Every deal they have tried to get at him has come back with him denying any wrongdoings."
"What's going to happen to Brett and Stacie in the meantime?"
"They'll be allowed to return to the house once the verdict is decided but until that point, they can stay with us. They aren't allowed back due to Warren being under investigation. Everything in that house is currently important evidence." Her eyes flittered towards the clock. The bell rang before she could continue her thought. "Best you get to your next class now."
And, despite their minds itching to get more answers, they left with nothing more than a minor head tilt.
Stacie was the first one to return, Brett following the next day. Chloe hadn't asked Aubrey much past their living arrangement/ Something they were both thankful for and didn't understand. But despite the conflicts they allowed the amiable presence to fill the air around them. They let themselves drift closer towards each other as they herded their way down towards their classes together. They filled the air with small talk and pointless banter to stop the leeches from hounding their ears off.
The most isolating part of their days was lunchtime. It brought them good times just as it brought the speculative eyes. The entire cafeteria would turn itself into a middle-aged conspiracy theorist's basement when the siblings would enter. The two of them could hear exactly what they were uttering in their 'whispers' but they found more humour in the tall tales than pain.
If anything they were wishing some of the stories were true. But no matter what the student body came up with they had treated the lie as if it would burn the siblings if it broke free of its confines, leading to a more cold atmosphere than the forced apologies created.
Jesse, uncaring of said atmosphere, had remained a beacon of lime green hair. His steps bounced as he worked his way around the tables towards them, a tray of lunch lady slop in hand. "Is it true?" He mumbled around his apple.
"Is what true?"
"That your dad was caught fucking a student?" Jesse wiggled his eyebrows to prove his point. Something, much to his enjoyment, sparked a startled chortle around the table.
Brett conspirationally leaned towards him, his fingers beckoning him. The faux-haired boy happily complied, leaving his ear at Brett's mercy. "Would you fuck a man that looked like him?"
Jesse grinned instead of answering he opted to dramatically leer his friend up and down. "Did he at least look like you when he was younger?" He took another bite of his food. "Cause if so I'd do a lot more than that."
"You'd have to be careful of the splinters," Luke asserted.
"Splinters?" It took about ten seconds before the meaning was encapsulated within his head. Instantly his hand landed beside his thigh while he crossed his legs. "Gah!"
26.
The house's shadow loomed over him. His hands mindlessly toyed with the cold keys in his grasp. He knew, objectively, that nothing nefarious was lurking amongst the confines of his home. His home. The words were bitter in his mind. Home; was with his friends. Home; was safe. Home; was happy. This building was not home.
Yet here he was; waiting for his body to kick start so that he could wade through years of achy limbs and bloodshot eyes with unshed tears and misery. All the while, those that he had found solace with were waiting patiently at the school. The same school that allowed him to be pardoned so that he could deal with the house himself.
The house dwarfed him. The shadow loomed carelessly over his body while he stood in the presence of the patio. He could still feel the aching of his bones as he fought his body to move towards the door. The keys jingled with his uneasy hands.
"Want a hand?" He lazily looked over his shoulder. Always stopping the spirals. A soft smile emerges to mirror Chloe's. Her sundress flowed in the gentle breeze. She looks way too cheerful for this place.
"You sure you want to see this?" In lew of giving his opinion. He could see the moment the depth of his words hit her, the same fear she had shown at the school shone brightly. Only to be hidden behind a wall of determination. One firm nod and her hands locked onto his own.
"Shall we?" Her eyes implored him. Letting him know that no matter what, she would remain at his side. With a forced smile, he loosened her hold on his left hand in favour of making quick work of the door. His hand stopped the moment the key entered the hole.
Returning back into his prison held a different air around it. He knew, deep down, that there would be no danger. That his father would not be waiting on the couch about to castrate him for being home during inconceivable times. And yet, his heart bled through his ears. His chest formed its own orchestral music as he turned the key within the chamber.
He heard Chloe's intake of breath beside him. He supposed she had never earned the honour of being met with the truth that his house held. His house, the term too foreign. He didn't like the way the words felt in his head. The house was his but it would never be home again. The walls had been paved with too much of his blood to hold any semblance of safety.
"Make yourself at home."
Chloe didn't miss the way his eyes remained tied to the floor; or how the door would remain between him and her.
Chloe loitered as Brett worked his way through the barrages of bottles. He seemed to move too swiftly throughout the house, she knew that he grew up in the house but she wasn't expecting him to have such second nature to avoid the collateral around him.
She remained frozen to the spot. She had heard the rumours and the misspoken anecdotes about what had transpired within those walls. Yet, somehow, the reality was worse than she imagined. She had pictured a dungeon, an area that no amount of light could ever penetrate. She was expecting chains that lingered among the light fixtures for easy access. And yet it was the clarity that the house had that brought her the most distress.
She could see the imprints on the walls from where hands had been forced upon. She saw how the couch was dented more so than any other chair. And she could not avoid the torn sections from the cupboard's door frame. The small details added up to more than the littering layer of empty bottles and take-out containers.
"I thought you would be at school," Brett walked back towards her, his hands carrying a roll of bin liners.
Chloe opted to take them from him gently, her eyes landed on his own. "I thought you would need a hand." She countered; neglecting to mention how the friend group had argued over who would take the day off. How Luke was willing to drop everything to make up for his 'sins'. But it had taken a knowing look from Aubrey to get the group to disengage from pursuing everything. After all, you never mess with a Posen.
His face broke into a minute smile. As if the words meant more to him than the situation needed. "Thank you."
"Anytime," Her brain caught on quickly. "Well not anytime, I don't want this to happen all the-" Brett let his lungs fill with a laugh. His eyes lit at her ramblings.
"I know."
It took five bin liners and nearly one hour to gather all the empty trash from the floors. Both Chloe and Brett walked in tandem around the house. Brett opted to work in certain rooms, and after seeing the haunted darkness of his eyes, Chloe was more than happy to oblige. She had lost count of the number of senses she had damaged from the rotten foods alone. She could handle the bottles even if the bag threatened to tear apart within the first room alone.
The first room left them exchanging disgusted groans instead of words. Chloe's eyes lingered on anything but the food beneath her fingertips. It was due to this that she realised the difference in their cleaning patterns. Where she lingered only on the food that stained the floor or the bottle which left a residue, he considered the artwork besides the furniture. Every framed image was picked up and, from what she had seen, thrown into the same bag as the mould-riddled Pad Thai.
All except for one. The only picture of an older woman. The frame was worn and the glass had been scratched beyond redeeming qualities but Brett's eyes had softened past what was normal. His fingers loomed into the engravings until he was forced to leave it alone on the unit beside the doorway. He remained silent as he headed towards the kitchen yet again.
She didn't mention it. Nor did he. They continued on their collision course until there was nothing left to clear. Any frames that Chloe had missed had been 'filed' just like the previous ones that Brett had seen.
The ambience of discomfort faded away sometime between the spare bathroom and the staircase. She alternated between staring in awe as Brett hummed along with the radio behind him and cringing in disgust as she tried to work a stain clear from the flooring. They had almost cleared the ground floor of the house. The living room had been the first to be completely spared from Warren's memory. His pictures remained in their frames but his stench had been hidden behind a layer of bleach.
The couch was beyond repair not that Brett seemed to care, his body working on autopilot to remain a few feet away at all times. 'Just burn it.' had been mumbled loud enough to receive a goading glint in his eyes. He smirked and mimicked her opinion.
Brett had disregarded her enquiry about the basement door. His eyes darkened before she could ask anything else. Instead, she swiftly changed it towards the kitchen, the room which suffered arguably the worst neglect. But, she saw the hidden smile when he rediscovered the battered radio. His voice started slowly, unconscious of the fact he was singing along with the song before the crescendo brought strength to his words.
The sound encouraged Chloe's actions. Her heart lightened at the ease of action he was showing. But she didn't dare halter his intentions. She opted to serenely continue her cleaning, Her head swaying to the beat of his voice.
The stains that layered the carpet of the staircase were recently placed. The texture had remained intact despite the distortion that lay in the patterns. Chloe could feel the raise of the carpet fibres just as easily as she could weave her fingers through the fibres. Still, her hands held firm to the sponge that lay in her hands. The coarse material was a well-appreciated reprieve from the stale aroma that filtered around her. She cherished the soapy bubbles amongst the yellow that spluttered their way around the steps.
Chloe's hands had long since wrinkled and the water had been alternated out too many times to count. But nonetheless, she continued scouring the carpet, eroding the stains away into minor outlines, unlike the blast shadows that they had previously shown.
As messed up as it was to think about, Chloe found it interesting to see just how much had deteriorated since Brett had stopped living under that roof. She found the layers of filth as a good warning about how much was going to change in his life. How he wouldn't need to hide his life any more than he wanted to.
"Hey, Chloe?" Looking to the bottom of the stairs she saw Brett looking up to her, his hands held behind his posture.
"Yeah?"
"Want a break?" His hands revealed themselves, a wilted bottle held loosely in his fingers.
"Is that-?" She wasn't sure if her question was finished but she knew he understood what she was trying to say.
"It's whisky. I was pouring them all out but this one was my mom's." Brett fiddled with the bottle. "I didn't feel right losing it like that. It seemed important enough to him so, why not..." He shrugged and held out the bottle.
Chloe wasn't the biggest fan of whisky; she had been dared one too many times to do shots of the stuff to cherish the burn, but she knew he needed something. "Are you sure?" She didn't like the thought of drinking in the same house that alcohol had ruined.
Another shrug. "I need to get used to people drinking if I plan on living right?" He uncorked the bottle, and the satisfying pop drowned out as Brett lifted the bottle to his nose. After a precursory sniff that had him recoiling, he mutely toasted to her descending form and swallowed like a drowning man. "Gah!" His face scrunched up and he immediately stared the bottle down as if it had personally insulted him. "That is horrible."
Finally reaching the bottom step, Chloe gently wrapped her fingers around his, taking the bottle with a smile. She didn't wait to take a sniff, opting instead to go straight for a mouthful. Her face didn't recoil but she shook her head slightly. "I still don't like this stuff."
He took the bottle back for another swig.
And Chloe followed his lead.
Stacie had spent the entire day watching the clock. The hands never moved fast enough to make an impact in the minutes she had counted. The teachers spoke little sense with their fog-horn voices. Their eyes seemed to only search her soul as they pointedly called upon her for questions that were too easy to have been needed. While she could appreciate what she knew they thought they were doing, it just served to add more annoyance to her life than she wished to deal with.
Her leg had bounced more than she had ever walked as she puttered her way throughout the day. She paid no attention, only needing to see her friends to help cover for herself. So, when the bell finally sounded, she bounced straight from her seat. Her bag had never been emptied. Her arms locked around Aubrey's as the girl left her classroom in time to run into her. The brunette never faltered in her steps, instead dragging Aubrey boldly with her.
"Wha-"
"Brett," Stacie uttered. She didn't stop her march, didn't look towards her now understanding hostage, and continued out of the school. The two of them didn't utter another word as they got into the blonde's car. The girl understood what was desired of her and started the engine.
Nothing had changed to the exterior of the house. The grass was overgrown and the driveway was empty but that was the only minor inconvenience in Stacie's thought. The windows had less of a smear and the front door had been left ajar and yet Stacie couldn't stop herself from feeling her heart in her throat. A hand-wound its way into her own. Aubrey looked at her, sharing a comforting smile and remained at her side. "We don't have anywhere else to be, take your time." It was more than enough for Stacie to appreciate what wasn't being said.
One more deep breath and they wandered into the house. Stacie gave one tight squeeze before letting go of Aubrey's hand.
The first thing that met her was the stench of bleach. The thick vapour clung to her throat as she searched for the source. The floorboards were stripped bare, and patches of stains had been removed and lightened to the point of being more tie-dye stylised than broken wastebin. The walls remained dented and the paintwork had somehow become worse than before but she walked further in before stopping.
She hadn't sidestepped or tripped. Looking backwards she stared down at the floor. "No bottles." Searching for the trash she realised there was more. "No containers." She was sure that Aubrey was watching her chase her tail all the while mumbling towards her subconscious.
Aubrey stood back, letting her own eyes trace the differences she could notice. She knew what Stacie was witnessing but not the extent of the changes between what life was like before the blonde had seen them once before. The home wasn't warm nor was it dwindling in life. It remained a house. It had the walls, the roof, and the framed pictures. But, it lacked the personal touches. It lacked the family photos, the welcoming entourage of jackets lining the coatracks. She let herself cherish the lack of locks that lined up the doorframe under the stairs. Something Stacie had seemed to pick up upon as well.
The brunette caressed her fingers over the indentations. A smile worked its way further up her face, turning towards Aubrey the smile turned into a more upside-down smile than a truly carefree grin. "It's gone." It was a simple observation that both girls nodded along with. The girl moved towards Aubrey, her arms cautiously wrapping around her frame, the girl waiting a few moments before securing her arms properly. Neither girl moved. They allowed themselves to cherish the moment of solace before they moved towards the living room. Just to be stuck in the doorway.
What was going on?
They weren't unused to seeing Chloe and Brett together. The two of them had been growing closer over the past few days since the past had come to light. But they weren't sure how they should react to the two of them alone in the living room, dancing. The two of them swirled around the room softly. Both bodies entwining as they whispered lyrics together as they continued their swaying. Their voices blended smoothly as they turned the song into a ballad between them. Stacie looked between them, she had noticed a bottle laying empty on the sofa but it was the loose cable hanging from a solitary ear of each of them that spoke the truth of what was happening.
They hadn't noticed that they had returned home. Too invested in the eyes of each other. She could hear the words they were singing. The soft melody rang true through them all. It took all she could to not hum along with the words but she did let herself sway along with the tune.
I'm bulletproof
Fire away
Fire away
27.
Brett had remained far away from the Mitchell residence since he had cleaned the house with Chloe. While he appreciated how many of his memories were less apparent now than they were back then, he couldn't remove the pain that ebbed its way into his body at the glance of the walls. The memories were stronger than he would have liked. His body refused to forget.
It was the main reason that Mrs Posen had let him continue to stay in her house. She didn't mention what happened that often, she didn't push him to give details like the police had been insistent on him doing. She didn't trudge up the piles of memories that he had of his father, she opted instead to remain the strong motherly type that wouldn't let anyone mess with her cub. Just like mom.
Brett could remember the times his mother would argue with the school about his previous bullying, something his father had silently supported at the time. He wasn't sure if it was a false show of loyalty towards his love or if she was the only part that kept his sanity to the forethought.
Something that he could see Mrs Posen doing for not only her kids but their friends as well. In fact, it was something she had done. She was allowed in the room when the police came by with more questions. Her hands remained in front of her as she stared the officers down with each passing question. He could remember how each of his flinches brought her hands inching towards him. Up until the final question.
"Why you? Why did he choose you?"
That was the question that broke her resolve. She tore into him about his careless tone. How he didn't believe the accuracy of that phrase. Brett knew it needed to be asked, so did she, but he couldn't deny that the way he uttered those words hurt him more than he would admit. Her arms wrapped solidly around him as his breath escaped faster than his lungs could fill up.
Her hugs reminded him more than ever of what he missed most about his mother. Her solid presence. While he knew he would never be able to gain more memories with his mother, he would cherish whichever ones he could make with the Posen matriarch.
Something she knew. It leads to him waking up before any other of the children in the household. He would get the breakfast sorted, or at least just the coffee while she made the bulk of the breakfast. She taught him how to flip a pancake with just the pan. She laughed as the first attempt wound up splattering across the floor. She laughed until she realised he had not moved. Had not uttered a single syllable. His eyes had remained on the floor. On the pancake. His hand trembling. His knees wobbling as he tried to retain the one-sided eye contact. And then she cradled him. Held him tighter than he first appreciated.
It was everything.
Local Teacher's Firm Hand Held To Justice. The headline was too obscure to be logical. He understood each of the words but the way they were strewn together was too nonsensical to laugh at. It seemed like he wasn't the only one as the paper tremored along with James' shoulders as he rejoiced the news in front of the group.
Only Stacie and Aubrey were with him (Mrs Posen having been dragged along to a faculty meeting earlier in the day). So there was nobody to real in the jovial laughs that echoed throughout the room. From Aubrey's tiptoeing reserved celebration to James' more outlandish endzone dance moves, the room never faltered in their happiness.
Brett's own elation was elevated by the front pages' photograph; his father dragged out of the school in handcuffs. He's never looked better. The man's scowl was deeper than the rage was burning in his eyes.
"We should celebrate!" Aubrey had jested. Her eyes holding more weight behind the words than the elation in her tone would have suggested. "Tonight, your place." They weren't allowed a word in to dispute her idea, not that they would have. They knew what it was like arguing with her would end up like. She very rarily changed her mind.
"We don't have anything there." That seemed like a reasonable excuse. She couldn't argue against something practical.
Yet, she simply waved off his concerns. "I'll set it up, you just need to get there at 5 sharp."
And with not another word she walked away leaving the sibling alone, wondering just what happened.
True to her word, Aubrey had managed to set everything up for their party. Party. While the word was strong, there was something to be excited about the situation. Brett had been left in the dark. He had spent the day staying in the Posen household while Aubrey flitted between the houses. Stacie had been willing to lend her a spare set of hands.
When five o'clock finally came, he was ready to leave for his house. He had been ready to dress up but the idea had been shot down in one of Aubrey's many trips. The girl had insisted on something casual. 'This was a time to relax' she had said.
He made it to the door with a patter in his heart. He knew this was something he had done before. He had spent countless weeks in Aubrey's house, enjoying the food and the conversation. But this held more weight somehow. This was a 'celebration' apparently. Something he wasn't sure he could enjoy.
It was one thing to escape Warren. Another to find pleasure in his walk of shame. But to celebrate his confinement while in his house.
Yet, when he walked into the house, he knew he could find it in himself to smile. The walls had been patched and the doorframe had been repaired. The wood filler was obvious compared to the paintwork but as he brushed his hand over the patchwork, he couldn't see his fingerprints imbedding themselves in the wall flash behind his eyes.
Turning his head, he spotted Aubrey watching his reaction. She nodded silently and continued into the living room. The bowl in her hand dragged his attention to follow behind her.
The living room had been transformed. The coffee table was covered in various bowls and candles. The soft glow made the food inside the bowls more difficult to identify but the smell was enough to make his mouth drool.
Looking up, he spotted the cheerful expressions of Aubrey, Stacie and Chloe.
"Could I speak to you, Brett?" Looking past him, Chloe reiterated. "Alone."
Brett turned on the spot, smiling as both Stacie and Aubrey halted their conversation to eye them both wearily. He gave them both a soft nod before turning back towards the redhead. "Of course." He led the way towards the living room, silently hoping he wouldn't need to disappear into the couch cushions if the conversations went array. "What's this about? And should I get my running shoes on?"
There wasn't alcohol in the situation this time. What if she regretted the whisky situation?
The girl laughed, ebbing the tension from his shoulders with each ripple. "No, I wanted to thank you."
Me? "I didn't do anything." I seem to remember only hurting you. "Wha- Why would you need to thank me?" Alone at that.
"You protected me. I saw what your house was like. The broken bottles and I couldn't help but feel like some of that was my fault." She halted him as his mouth ajar in hopes to refute her statements. "You took care of Tex. You let me take my ire out on you. You walked into that classroom unsure on whether you'd walk back out. And more importantly, you are the one that brought us back together." She took a step closer. Her actions were hesitant like he was a deer lost in the forest. Her right hand rested upon his chest. "You are a lot of things Brett Mitchell but smart is not one of them."
"What?"
"You have a martyr complex. Always needing to be the hero while suffereing in silence for the sake of others. While that might be comendable, it is down right stupid of you. You could have been killed." He flinched behind her words. Her voice had started to harden until her body melted at her next words. "But you did save me. You saved us. So thank you."
She leaned closer to him, planting a soft kiss upon his cheek. "Thank you." She didn't leave him alone, letting her fingers hold gently onto his hands while he gathered his thoughts.
He didn't think he had done anything that was worthy of her thanks. He had only brought pain towards her and her friends but here she was, fighting to have him believe her words as if he wasn't the butterfly that flapped his wings too close to her life.
"I'd do again so long as you were okay."
"I know. You wouldn't be yourself otherwise." She leaned back as if to leave. "I wouldn't have fallen for you if you didn't care about others nearly as much as you do." And with that she said her goodbyes, claiming her parents needed her back home. Aubrey followed her out the house.
Brett's hand rose to the spot on his cheek. The soft sensation still prominant. His smile grew as he looked back to where Chloe had left from.
28.
As a newly found tradition, the Posen clan held a weekly breakfast with the Mitchell siblings. In their own home. The room gradually found its way from the tense and more obvious topics into - what Brett assumed - were regular discussions. They would banter about school subjects or tease people about certain crushes. James would bring the occasional childhood anecdote that would render Aubrey's cheek a competitor to Chloe's hair.
The three high school students continued their banter long into the school even as they dragged Chloe and Luke into the mix. Jesse was the unfortunate odd man out who remained to be elusive as he ignored the inside jokes.
But even with all their comfort at the Mitchell resident, they had all unofficially decided that they would never stay the night in those walls. Instead, they all remained divided between Aubrey's bedroom and James'. Every night they would sit around the table for a family dinner. Telling Mrs Posen all about their day at school even if she had been in the same hall as they had been.
James' presence had slowly been deteriorating throughout the days. His ears being consumed by his phone as he hushedly conversed with whoever was on the other end. None of the others seemed worried about his increasing stress, they had tried to ease Brett's worry with the simple excuse of work.
Yet it never sat right with Brett.
It wasn't until a week later that James joined them again. His posture was more relaxed than Brett had seen it for weeks. The blonde boy joined in on the conversations, his bright attitude leading to more laughter than Brett's ribs could handle, the bones for once being sore in a way he would cherish.
Once dinner was finished Aubrey collected the plates. Before either of the Mitchell kids could offer to help, James spoke up.
"Hey, you two, I wanted to speak with you about something." James snuck a thumbs up behind their back towards his sister. His jovial smile had long since eroded with anxious concern.
"If this is a shovel talk, you can save your breath, we are happily single at the moment."
The blonde laughed. "We both know that if you were going to hound one of my sisters it would be Chloe." When Brett turned red, James's demeanour straightened. "I was actually wondering what your guy's plans were once the lease is up on the house?" Didn't think about that... The duo looked at each other and saw the same look reflected back at themselves.
"We've not talked about that yet. Why?" Stacie answered.
They could tell his new smile was meant to reassure them that they were not in trouble. But, just following their declaration on inadequate planning skills, did little to ebb their spiralling thoughts. "As you know, I don't stay here. Or at least, I hadn't until my recent stint, due... to circumstances." They all looked away in a silent flinch. "What I am saying is; I got a place twenty minutes out of Barden. It's a basic apartment but it has running water and heating. If you'd like, you could come to stay with me while you gain your bearings..."
The siblings looked at each other. They had never put much more thought behind their residence except accepting their inevitable eviction notices appearing through the mailbox at them. They could handle the basics; they would need to get a job, find an affordable apartment, and eventually drop out of school. After the settlement of Warren's arrest, they could comfortably stay at the house for a few months. But after all the reemerging memories each night, they stayed within those walls, they would not leave the house with the same level of unscathed.
Brett raised his eyebrow. What do you think?
Stacie rolled her eyes. You got a better idea?
The two of them continued their back-and-forth silent charade for a few minutes. Each minute tic in their faces set James' nerves on fire. He could tell that they were discussing his offer. The fact of which was something he was glad about. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had jumped into a situation to escape something. But it was the duration of time that had him biting his nails. He was never the best with silence, even the courtroom was somewhere he couldn't settle because of the eerie stillness of the audience. His eyes had wandered across everyone at least twice. A fact he was unable to replicate in the present time.
"Well!" He had the words burst before his very eyes. His hands wound up in front of his mouth to prevent any more outbursts.
Charming, Brett thought behind a smile. "Uh, sure?"
"What he means to say is that we'd like that very much. Thank you." Stacie corrected.
James dragged them into a group hug. His smile was hidden between their hair. "Thank you." He repeated. Neither of the siblings wanted to ruin his glee with questions. Instead, they wrapped their arms firmly around the boy, enjoying the heat radiating off him.
They weren't given much of a send-off. They didn't have to wait for moving vans to collect their things from the Mitchell residence, they wouldn't need to do much to transfer from the high school with little fuss. And they didn't need to wait for any family members to drag them along for a ride. They only needed James, and themselves.
The thought was both reassuring and regretful.
They hardly got the opportunity to let Chloe and Aubrey know before they would be shoved head-first into the back of the Posen boy's car. But they made do with the day they had. Both Aubrey and Chloe were 'sick' that day which meant they 'nursed' each other to health at the blonde's house. It didn't stop the receptionist at the school from having a knowing lilt to her voice as she agreed to notify their teachers. Nor would it stop the student populous from spreading their own rumours but it was enough for the group to meet for another send-off.
"Are you sure about this? I can talk to Mom, she can let you stay." Aubrey offered with an air of indifference, only her eyes let her concern seep through.
Stacie smiled and held her close. "We're sure." Leaning further back, she dropped her voice into a hushed tone. "I don't think I could stay without seeing his blood everywhere. Thank you."
Brett let his ears bypass the words he knew wasn't meant for him and focused on the tearful redhead before him. There weren't many words left to say between them. Their conversation the day before had taken anything withstanding and tightened them into a bow. He knew what she felt and while he understood where it came from, he also knew that no matter what, it would always remain in the back of her head. Chloe, on the other hand, could see just how different the boy who stood in front of her was compared to where she had first met him. His shoulders held high and the light which had once been sparse now shone brightly towards her. She had never seen him like this since the night that Tex was brought home.
"You'll keep in touch." That wasn't a question.
"Of course." A cheeky smile worked his lips upwards. "I need updates on how Tex is coping without me."
"He isn't going with you?" She was aware that said cat was watching through the windows of the top floor but she had thought that they would collect him before they got into the car.
"James' landlord doesn't allow pets." Looking past her head, he continued. "That and he doesn't seem to want to follow behind." She turned to watch what he was seeing. In the window was a set of paws, his digits splayed peacefully against the glass while his head bathed in the sunlight.
She walked towards him, her arms locking around the boy. She could feel the tell-tale signs of tears brewing underneath her eyelids but she did not care. She wanted the moment to last, to keep him locked in her arms until he understood what she was trying to show. His arms reciprocated her actions. His face buried itself into her hair before he could stop himself.
A week passed before Brett realised he could sleep. For years he had spent the nights curled in his bed, his head tucked under his pillows and silently crying himself to sleep. For years, he learned that the only way to sleep the way through the night was based on pure exhaustion. But, after only seven days, he had managed to lean back in a bed, not clutching his ribs or nursing a concussion, and stared meaningfully at the ceiling. His eyes drooped naturally until he fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next day he sluggishly raised from the mattress. The night was a hazy memory but, from the damp spot on the pillow, a peaceful one. No alarm. No broken bottles. No Stacie clambering on top of him. His hooded eyes smiled at the prospect.
