Layra KPhoenixLover: There is much more Mitchsen to come.
FromTumblr: You can expect more Mitchsen and character growth from Beca.
96itadakimasu96: Yeah, they're slowly going to accept they need each other, starting this chapter.
G: Beca's thoughts and feelings will come to light soon.
Bechloe-bible-49: There will definitely be more of that.
SunDanceQT: The shower sounds like a great place for hate sex.
Pixie1913: Just think. Chloe's dad and Conrad will soon be living in the same small apartment.
Vickstik: There is more sweetness coming up soon.
Dysrhythmia
I can't escape you,
No matter how far I run.
I can't erase you,
From who I've become.
Memories coursing through my veins,
Like the scars in yours, my roots remain.
- Northlane
"I want pictures," Aubrey's boss states, without even so much as a hello, as he steps into the room. He hands a camera off to Brian. "Every cut, scrape, bruise. I don't care how it got there. We'll go through all that later. Document all of it."
Aubrey lifts her head from the table to look at him, and Julia stops brushing her hair. Pictures. She looks at Brian and the camera.
"I only have a scraped elbow," Beca says, "It's practically healed."
"I want a picture of it," Marc still says.
"When did you scrape your elbow?" Aubrey asks. She wasn't exactly looking at Beca's elbows in the shower to notice that.
Beca looks at her. "When I fell," is all she answers.
When did Beca fall? …in the tunnels. She slipped when Aubrey wouldn't give her the flashlight. She slipped in blood. Aubrey lowers her head back down on the table. Beca slipped in Jessica's and Ashley's blood, and Donald's… She closes her eyes as Chloe's mom starts running the brush through her hair again.
"I don't want to do this," Beca states, "I don't wanna talk to you."
Aubrey thinks Beca is talking to her, but when she tilts her head to look at her, she's looking at Aubrey's boss.
No one says anything.
Aubrey focuses on the feeling of the brush bristles against her scalp, and resists the urge to lay down with her head in Julia's lap.
"Pictures," Marc says, then walks out, leaving them alone with Brian and the camera.
"I need a picture of your elbow," Brian says.
"No." Beca flops down on her cot.
"Aubrey," Brian says her name.
Aubrey sits up. She just put her clothes on. Now she's going to have to go through the pain and hassle of taking them back off if he needs a picture of every cut and bruise. She slowly pushes the table out of the way and uncovers herself from the blanket as she turns to get up. She has to sit there for a moment, and wait for her body to cooperate. Showering took a lot out of her.
"Do you need help?" Julia asks.
Aubrey shakes her head. She doesn't want to get up. But she has to. Because this is time sensitive, and most of the marks on her body have already started to heal.
"Did you ever think I'd be taking pictures of you naked?" Brian asks, and walks closer to her.
Aubrey narrows her eyes. She'll be damned if she's taking all of her clothes off. There are areas that are not injured, and, therefore, do not need to be photographed.
"Have you ever sent nudes to Chloe?" Beca asks curiously.
"Beca!" Aubrey exclaims.
Chloe's mom appears to be choking for a moment. "I believe Chloe would probably be the sender. Moving on."
Aubrey looks at the ceiling. Why? She doesn't want to think about Chloe. Only she does. Only she doesn't. Because every time she does, she starts to cave in on herself.
"You don't have to get up," Julia tells her, "If you want privacy, Beca and I can leave."
That's the problem. Aubrey wants privacy without them leaving. "I would prefer to do it in the bathroom."
"Do you want me or Beca to go with you?" Julia asks.
"No. I just want to get it over with." Aubrey stands, shaky on her feet. "What are you waiting for?" she asks Brian, even though she knows full well that he's waiting on her, "Go."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Brian bows to her. "At your service, Your Majesty."
Aubrey swings at him, just narrowly missing as he quickly backs up out of the way.
"At your every beck and call, Your Majesty." Brian keeps backing up, until he trips over Beca's bed and nearly falls.
"Serves you right," Aubrey says.
"If I called her that, she would punch me," Beca says.
"You just have to be faster than her fist," Brian tells her.
"It's hard not to be faster than her right now," Beca comments.
Aubrey is thankful for one good arm. She picks the hospital blanket up off Beca's bed, then whips her with it.
"Ow!" Beca yells.
"Kinky," Brian says.
Aubrey swings it in his direction too, but he leaps out of the way.
"You guys are going to egg her on, and then you're going to get upset when she gets the best of you," Julia comments, getting up to take the blanket from Aubrey.
"I need that," Aubrey complains, and turns to face her, "It's my only weapon against lunacy." She tries to take it back.
"No, Ma'am." Julia holds the blanket behind her back.
Aubrey frowns and turns back around. Fine. The pen is mightier than the sword. "I don't know if law was the right career choice for you," she tells Brian, walking past him, "But it's nice to have a Court Jester."
"Ouch," Beca snickers.
"Oh my." Julia rubs her face.
"That hurt, Aubrey," Brian says, "Right in here." He points to the middle of his chest.
"That's your sternum," Aubrey points out.
"It hurt my heart," Brian tells her.
"Where is that?" Aubrey asks.
"I'll let you know when I find it." Brian pulls out his phone.
Aubrey nods, then walks into the bathroom.
"It's like right here." Brian points to the left side of his chest as he follows. He places his hand flat on his chest. "I don't feel it. Touch my chest." He reaches for Aubrey's hand.
Aubrey glares at him in disgust and pulls her hand away.
"Anyone who doesn't want to feel my pecks is definitely a lesbian." Brian closes the door behind them.
Aubrey doesn't beat around the bush. "Did you talk to my brother?"
"Yeah, what a dickhead," Brian answers, "He said he'll meet with you though."
"When?"
"Tomorrow." Brian sits down on the bench. "He said sometime in the afternoon."
What time is 'sometime in the afternoon'? Aubrey rubs her face. At least that gives her some time to tell Chloe's mom.
Brian leans back, his hands behind his head. "Strip for me."
Aubrey just stares at him, expressionless.
"I feel like I need a cigar," Brian comments, "And some one dollar bills."
If Aubrey could cross her arms right now…
"What?" Brian asks.
"Turn around," Aubrey demands.
Brian turns on the bench to sit crisscross, facing the wall. "This isn't even worth my two cents."
Aubrey only strips her leggings off. There is no reason to take all of her clothes off at once. "Legs first."
"Can I turn around?" Brian asks, "Or do you want me to try it like this." He holds the camera behind his back.
Like that is tempting…
Brian turns when she ignores him. "Taking it slow, I see."
Aubrey threatens to whip him with her leggings.
"That's not helping you any." Brian kneels down and takes pictures of Aubrey's knees. Both of them are scraped. God only knows from what or when. "Turn around." He doesn't snap any pictures from behind her legs. "That was easy enough."
It's Aubrey's upper body that took the brunt of everything. She waits for him to stand and turn before she wrestles her leggings on and her dress off. Maybe it's all the movement, or maybe it's how vulnerable she feels with half her clothes off, but she feels lightheaded. She wants to go back and lie down. "I'm ready."
Brian spins back, and points the camera like a photographer.
Aubrey realizes now that he's just trying to make this easier for her. But nothing can make this easy. She doesn't miss the brief shock in his gaze when he sees all the scrapes and bruises. And it feels like it takes a year to get pictures of them all, especially since he takes these ones in silence – except when he asks her to tilt her head up so he can get a picture of her throat. She closes her eyes, the lights on the ceiling making her head pound.
"Turn around."
Aubrey turns, and opens her eyes, staring at herself in the mirror – at the ugly yellowing bruises and the scabs formed over all the scratches. She can see the faint outline of her ribs. "I'm done." She turns to the side and starts the fight to get her dress on.
"He's going to want a picture of your shoulder when-"
"I said I'm done." Aubrey gets her dress on, then gives him the fakest smile. "You can keep your dollar bills."
"At least your face looks okay," Brian tries to offer her.
Aubrey's forced smile twitches. At least her face looks okay… It's also the only part of her that feels okay. Unless the aching in her head counts, seeing as its in that general area. At least it's not bashed in like Chloe's, right? The bathroom is beginning to feel too small for two people.
"Wrong thing to say?" Brian asks.
"It's fine." Aubrey fusses with the bottom of her dress, then turns and walks out of the bathroom. It's all going to be fine.
Julia and Beca both look at her when she walks out.
Maybe Beca had the right idea to be curled up under her blanket.
"I am not on display." Aubrey goes to the bedside opposite of where Chloe's mom is sitting on the edge, and covers herself up with the blanket – pulling it up over her head. She rolls over onto her good side, and presses her thumb and fingers against her eyes. Everything hurts so damn bad, and she considers asking for something to numb the pain. Instead, she just curls herself up like a pill bug, then tries to lie perfectly still.
"Do you want some space?" Julia asks.
There isn't a clear answer to that question. She wants to be alone without being alone.
"I'm going to take these pictures to our boss," Brian states.
"Okay," Julia responds softly, "We'll see you in a little while again, I'm sure."
Aubrey listens to the sound of his footsteps walking out the door.
But then another set of footsteps walks in. "I'd like to talk to each of you separately," Marc states, "Brian, get back in here."
"Yes, Sir."
"I don't want to talk to you," Beca says, "I already told the police who did it."
Aubrey stays hidden pathetically underneath the blanket, mostly because she's ashamed to come out and face them all watching her hide. She didn't realize her boss was going to walk back in.
"This is too much," Julia says, "It's too much. They're in shock."
"This is a very serious investigation," Marc says, "Not only are there only two witnesses-"
Three. Three witnesses. Chloe just can't communicate what she saw.
"A refusal to cooperate with the police could be taken the wrong way, by both the police and the media."
Aubrey doesn't give a shit about the media. They can shove their jobs up their asses. Nobody needs to know what happened.
"We want to play to the public's sympathies," Marc explains, "One of the worst things that can happen is if the world sees their silence as an admission of guilt."
"So, that gives us another option," Julia says, "If a psych evaluation says they're unable to communicate what-"
"Dude, no," Beca cuts her off, "I'm not a basket case."
"No one is saying that you are," Julia assures her, "But there is a reason you won't talk, and I don't think it's because you're at fault."
"I don't want to talk, because I already said what I had to say," Beca replies.
"In order to build a case against this man, there needs to be hard evidence backing up that it's him," Marc says, "It will be easier to find that evidence if it's clear what happened."
Beca exhales an 'I don't know what to tell you' breath.
"I think there needs to be a mandatory psych evaluation," Julia sticks by her words, "On both of them."
"Who the fuck are you to decide that?" Beca asks.
No. Aubrey will not. She already caved and took the medication. She shakes her head, realizing too late that no one can see her. In a second, once the pain passes, she'll sit up and answer their questions. She just needs a second. Just a few seconds. Her body just needs to cooperate with what she's telling it to do. Stop hurting. Sit up. There is a gentle hand on Aubrey's back, rubbing it through the blanket, providing some relief, keeping her down without force.
"That may be where we have to start then," Marc says.
"I will leave," Beca threatens.
"You can't leave," Marc says.
"Am I being charged?" Beca asks.
"Why is this frightening to you?" Julia asks, "What do you think an evaluation is going to tell you about yourself, aside from that you were in a traumatic situation?"
"Nothing," Beca answers, "I'm not scared."
"Then why are you so adamant against it?" Julia asks.
Beca must not have an answer to that.
"The police aren't going to accept you just not wanting to answer their questions," Julia says, "It doesn't work like that."
Beca remains silent.
"Aubrey, are you okay?" Julia asks, "You're not saying anything right now."
"This is very serious," Marc says again.
"I know; I was there," Beca replies.
Aubrey is still caught up on being evaluated, potentially being told that she's her mother's daughter. She would rather be her father's. She is her father's daughter. She is not her mother's daughter. She is not.
xxxxx
"You're wasting food," Laura said, barely glancing up from wiping down the other half of the dining room table, "Eat it."
Aubrey poked at her eggs, not feeling particularly hungry. She shouldn't have made them to begin with, but it wasn't right to go without breakfast. She wasn't anxious. Her stomach didn't hurt. Her throat just sort of burned, and food didn't look that appealing.
"Just fucking say it, Aubrey." Laura slapped the rag against the table, "Says I'm going to have to sanitize this whole damn room again."
Aubrey didn't say anything.
"You're going to school. You are not staying in this house. You're fine."
Aubrey finally glanced up. "It's Saturday." She wished she was going to school.
Laura froze, not saying a thing back.
Aubrey looked back down at her food. She forced herself to take another bite, then reached for her orange juice to ease the burning.
"Don't touch anything," Laura snapped at her, "Go to your room."
"I'm thirs-"
"Go!" Laura snapped the rag in the direction of the stairs.
Aubrey slowly lowered her hand back down. She pushed her chair out and stood up, then stood there trying to figure out how she was supposed to push it back in without touching it. How was she going to clean her plate?
"Go to your room, and do not come out," Laura said firmly, "Now."
Aubrey grabbed her doll from where it was sitting on the chair beside her, and gave her mother one last glance before walking swiftly to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her – then just stood there, staring at the new plush rug that her mother argued against, claiming it was a germ trap. That was the whole reason Aubrey's father had agreed to buy it for her. Not because Aubrey's feet were cold when they touched the hardwood floor in the morning. Or because blue was Aubrey's favorite color, and when she saw it, she had to have it. But because her mother said no.
It was soft and beautiful and made Aubrey feel guilty all at once.
She stepped forward and dug her toes into it. It was better than Aubrey's most comfortable slippers. It was like stepping onto a cloud. It was hard to understand how her mother could hate it so much. If she just touched it, Aubrey was sure she'd understand…
Aubrey pulled back the blanket on her bed a few inches, and slipped her doll underneath it. Unlike Aubrey, Kit was allowed to sleep whenever she was tired – not just during certain hours. Because Kit's parents were not Aubrey's parents. Her mom was that lady from Disneyworld. She was starting to fade now. Aubrey couldn't really remember anymore what her face looked like or what her voice sounded like, but Aubrey was willing to bet, especially after she was not grossed out by Aubrey throwing up, that she would not just lock Aubrey up in her room just because her throat felt scratchy and hurt a little bit. She would let Aubrey finish her orange juice, at the very least. She would probably even let her lie down in bed and sleep.
And, maybe, she would like Aubrey's rug.
Aubrey did exactly what she thought that lady might do. She stood on her carpet and petted her doll's hair. It's okay. It's Saturday. You don't have to go to school. Oh, you want to go to school? I'm sorry it's Saturday. You can go on Monday. Do you want to do some Math? I'll make some for you. Or you can go to sleep. I'll read you a book. You can choose which one. She kissed the doll on the forehead, then bent down and moved her encyclopedias out of the way to access her hiding spot. Her mother wasn't going to check in on her, her father was away, and she needed to finish The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe before it was due back to the school library.
The Chronicles of Narnia was not a book series that Aubrey was supposed to be reading. Her father was picky about fiction books. Most of them were immoral and taught insubordination and insolence. But, after Aubrey's teacher read The Magician's Nephew to her class, Aubrey needed to know what happened in the other books. She couldn't just live her life not knowing.
'Know It All' is what the kids at school called her like it was some sort of insult – like it was a bad thing that Aubrey put in so much effort to be smart.
She crawled up onto her bed, and adjusted her pillows so she could sit up. That was her mistake. Curling up sideways against her pillows, as she read silently in her head to her doll. They were more comfortable than they usually were. And after about an hour, when her throat felt like fire and her head began to hurt too, she fell asleep with her book – and woke up a long time later, cradling her doll.
The house was quiet.
She could hear the boys outside playing from her window.
Her mother was probably still cleaning the kitchen. She would be doing that for the next several hours. Maybe all day.
Aubrey coughed into the crook of her arm, then hauled herself out of bed to get some water from the tap in the bathroom. It didn't sound nearly as appealing as orange juice, and she wasn't supposed to drink from the tap, but she needed something to drink. She walked groggily from her room to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her, then turned on the water. She even made sure to wash her hands with soap before cupping her them underneath the stream to drink. Then she splashed some water on her face to cool it down.
She might as well use the bathroom while she was there.
She didn't even hear the footsteps on the stairs.
It was just as she finished peeing, and was ripping toilet paper off the roll, that the bathroom door swung open.
"What are you doing out of your room?" Laura asked, frantic.
Aubrey jumped and squeezed her legs together, fearing one of the boys had burst in on her in the bathroom, before she registered that it was her mother. Her cheeks still flushed hot in embarrassment. It was pretty clear what she was doing. She couldn't pee in her room.
"Get out," Laura demanded, tears welling up in her eyes, "I told you not to come out of your room. Do you have ears, Aubrey? Do they work?"
Aubrey nodded. Fear began to override her embarrassment. She quickly moved to wipe herself clean, only to be grabbed and yanked upright by one of her mother's thick, yellow cleaning gloves, as her other hand tried to pull up Aubrey's pants.
"Don't touch yourself there! I can't touch you. I can't touch you!"
Aubrey threw the paper in the toilet and scrambled into the hallway as she was released, fumbling to get her jeans up and buttoned. She had seen her worried about cleaning before, to the point of cleaning for days, but not like this.
"Now I have to clean this whole room!" Laura cried, bursting into tears.
"I'll clean it," Aubrey tried to offer, "I can do it. I know how."
"Get out of the house," it sounded like Aubrey's mother was begging her to leave.
Get out of the house? Where was she supposed to go?
"I said get out!" Laura screamed.
Aubrey backed up quickly into her room instead. She hadn't be able to wash her hands. They tingled in a way that made Aubrey want to remove them, but she couldn't focus on that right now. She closed her door almost all the way, and peeked through a tiny crack – watching as her mother sunk to her knees in tears.
xxxxx
"Where did Mom go?" Aubrey sat at the table, where she was forced to sit, resisting the urge to push her food around on her plate. She still just wanted some orange juice.
"Vacation," James answered, "She needed a break from you."
Aubrey nodded that she had heard him.
"She went to the loony bin," JJ said, "Because you made her go crazy."
"I thought she goed to the hopsticle," Liam said, confused.
"That's where they put the crazy people," JJ told him, "That's where Aubrey is going to go when they find out she throws up."
Aubrey's hand flew up a centimeter to hit him, before she caught herself and stopped. Hitting was for self-defense only. "May I be excused, please, Sir?" She blocked a cough with her arm.
"Ew." JJ tried to scoot his chair away from her.
"Ew," Liam echoed.
"You didn't eat your food," James pointed out, "No. You're going to eat all your food, and you're going to school on Monday."
Thank God.
xxxxx
"Why do you always do this?" Chloe asked, guarding the door with her hands on her hips, "You don't tell me how you're feeling, and then when I figure it out, you still try to go about your day like everything is normal."
Everything was normal. Aubrey tried to get around her.
Chloe grabbed her keys right out of her hand, and stuffed them into the pocket of her Yankees hoodie. She pressed her cold hands against Aubrey's face, feeling her temperature. "You're not going to work. Come back to bed."
"I have things to do," Aubrey stated, pushing her hands away.
"Like what? Start a pandemic?" Chloe asked, "You're going to get everyone around you at work sick. Come to bed and lie down."
"Do you want to get sick?" Aubrey asked, "I'm not even sick."
"We live in the same apartment. We sleep in the same bed. If I get sick, it's going to be no matter what."
"We should sleep in our own rooms tonight," Aubrey said.
"Why? Because you're not even sick?" Chloe wasn't having it. "Go." She pointed to the hallway. "Now, Aubrey."
Aubrey tried to stare her down.
Chloe stared right back at her. "I already called your boss and left a message."
"Why would you do that?" Aubrey panicked.
"You're not going to do it."
"You can't-" Aubrey broke into a coughing fit.
Chloe gave her a look and moved to rub her back until it was over. "Go…put pajamas on," she said, sounding frustrated, "If you don't want to be in bed, you can lay on the couch."
"I can't put pajamas on, Chloe," Aubrey told her, being wrestled back to the bedroom, "It's morning."
"It's four o'clock. You are the only person not in pajamas right now. You're the only person awake. I don't even know why you're trying to go into work so early. No one is there."
Aubrey was trying to go sit in her car, alone, until it was time to go in.
xxxxx
"I want to talk to Aubrey," Beca says, "Alone."
"It may be best if the two of you stay separated from now on," Marc says, "Corroboration-"
"Yeah, that's not going to happen, so…" Beca's voice trails off.
Wasn't she just threatening to leave completely?
"I'm not talking to anyone until I talk to Aubrey," Beca says, "Let me talk to Aubrey, and then maybe I'll talk."
Julia rubs Aubrey's back a few more times before she stands up.
"Alright," Marc concedes, "Brian, out. Go take care of those pictures."
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm going to go be with Chloe," Julia says, "If you need me, text Dad's phone."
The door closes, and there's a few seconds of nothing before Beca speaks again. "You know law," she says, her voice wavering slightly, "Aubrey. How do we make this just go away?"