9. June 20th

9

June 20th

I need to use the bathroom. Veronica headed outside a minute ago, and I promised I would follow her, right after I relieved myself.

Which I am about to do in this swanky bedroom if I can't find a bathroom soon. This is a certified mansion and I am questioning whose bright idea it was not to have more bathrooms.

Exiting the bedroom, I hear someone calling me.

"Sunday." The last voice I want to hear is only a few feet away, but maybe he will help me.

"William," I acknowledge.

William's eyes are glassy and he shifts unsteadily from foot to foot. He has clearly drank more since I saw him last and, even in my own hindered state, it makes my hackles rise.

"Can you please point me in the direction of the bathroom?" I decide on the high road. Maybe William is just hurting, maybe he is working through the fact that he nearly lost his sister.

His finger points to a door; it's the only one I hadn't tried. Of course.

I spin away and rush to the bathroom, do my business, and hope he will be gone when I exit. At this point the alcohol has done its job, and I am feeling better . Well not exactly better but less bothered. As if the world will not, in fact, destroy me.

I give myself one cursory glance in the mirror as I wash my hands. The pale face and sunken cheekbones are new, but my eyes are just as dull as usual. Tripp said they were reminiscent of a galaxy, but all I see is a storm. The dark blue hues almost blacken in the dimmed light of the bathroom.

When I exit, William is still standing there. I go to walk around him, but he catches my arm. "Nuh-uh, if you are going to come to a party, you are going to hang out with the adults."

William is not hurting; he is just a certified asshole.

I test his grip and decide not to fight yet. William is a jerk, but his sister likes me. That should be enough for him to not harm me, right? I am not sure if it is the alcohol or my own stupidity, but I don't struggle as he yanks me to the stairs. Even when he drags me up them instead of down.

My fear doesn't truly ignite until he pushes me into a room.

I know for a fact I have never been in it, but it is eerily familiar.

"Sunday School…" Maxwell sits on a large bed, a tray in his hand. "I see you found her?" he addresses to the man still trapping my arm.

"As requested," William grunts, pushing me forward.

I catch my balance before stumbling entirely onto Maxwell.

"Easy there." Maxwell sets the tray down and his hands lift to my waist steadying me. He yanks me a bit until I am standing between his thighs. I attempt to escape his hold, all it does is cause his fingers to crush into my hip bones.

"Where's Carrie?" I ask anxiously, looking around as if she is hiding in the room and is going to pop out and tell me this is a sick joke. Except she isn't here. This isn't right. I shouldn't be in this bedroom with these two men. They are dangerous.

A lump forms in my throat and I find it incredibly hard to swallow, difficult to breathe. A sheen of sweat forms on my palms, I don't even have the space to wipe them on my shorts. That is how close Maxwell is to me.

A soft smile graces Maxwell's face, it doesn't reach his eyes. "Sleeping." His fingers are cattle prods, burning into my bones as he refuses to let me budge even an inch.

I am not drunk enough to ignore that I am scared. Terrified. I want to scream, but would that even help?

William steps up behind me, breathing down my neck. "What happened to the tough girl downstairs? Girls like you shouldn't be here." The threat rolls down my spine.

"Then, I'll just be going." I try to escape their embrace, but I am surrounded. My nerves are buzzing with energy, willing me to do something.

But what can I do?

Maxwell looks over my shoulder at William before dropping his hands and pouring something onto the tray.

I go to step back, but William won't allow me to budge more than an inch and now it is his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me captive.

"Initiation." Maxwell lifts the tray to me, a rolled-up bill between two of his fingers.

The white line stares up at me. I have never done drugs, but I'm not an idiot, I know what they look like.

"Will you let me go if I do this?" I am not sure which of the men I am asking.

"Of course," William agrees, but I can't help but notice the darkness that swallows Maxwell's face.

I want to just do it, get it over with, but when I lean forward to take the bill, the Narcan in my pocket presses against Maxwell's thigh. I know enough about drugs to also know what fentanyl is. This looks like it's cocaine, but what else is in there? What if the first time I try drugs, it kills me?

I pause.

Maxwell doesn't like that.

"Too fucking good for us, aren't you little Sunday School? Just a little nun out in the world alone. No more big brother to keep her safe." His hateful words land exactly how he wishes them to. "If you don't want the line, I have something else you can have, church girl."

I don't like what I see in Maxwell's eyes, he isn't going to let this go. How far will he take this? I'm internally panicking. My heart's beat is painful, my stomach is one large painful knot, my head is throbbing. I don't know what to do. Maxwell is right–in the past, if I got myself into a sticky situation, Auggie was always there to bail me out.

In the moment of silence where I am just soaking in the pain and terror. I hear it.

Boots are thundering outside the room.

"Help!" I manage to get the word out before William slaps a hand over my mouth.

The three of us pause, listening for the steps. After a few moments pass of nothing, I realize I may not escape this unscathed, but then there is a loud crashing noise behind me.

The door. It's the door crashing open.

"Get the fuck off her. Don't make me kick your asses, too." Axel's threat has William dropping his hold on me.

Before I can move to escape, Maxwell jerks a hand out catching on the hem of my shorts. "Better watch yourself." He drops his hold and pushes me back just as Axel makes it to me.

Axel grabs my hand and leads me angrily out of the room. He doesn't stop his stomping until we are down the two flights of stairs and out the backdoor.

When we make it outside, I see that Darius is leaning against a dark car.

Ten feet away from Darius, he finally stops and grabs me by the shoulders staring down at me. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? What they could have done to you? Did you do any fucking drugs?"

I don't expect the venom he spits at me, but I deserve it. I let my hair fall in a curtain around my face as I begin to cry. The terror is still swirling against my skin and it's only the hold Axel has on me that keeps me leveled in reality.

He shakes me. "Answer my fucking questions!" This time his words are dripping with an unknown inflection, but it is almost reminiscent of concern.

"Ease up, man." Darius's gentle tone is what pulls me out of my head.

Axel lets go of me. "Get the answers" is all he says before he storms away.

I didn't even thank him. My sobs intensify. I am useless and stupid and nothing I do is ever right.

My brother is dead.

Their brother is dead.

And it's all my fault.

"Shhh." Darius hauls me into his arms and pats my back softly. "It's going to be okay, but I need you to tell me. Did you do anything they gave you?"

"No," I hiccup out. How did Axel even know about that? He was in the room for all of five seconds before yanking me away. Was this normal for Maxwell?

"That's good," Darius continues, offering soft affirmations as his hand circles a path on my back soothingly.

His voice is so incredibly comforting, it isn't long before my sobs lessen and all that is left are annoying hiccups. I wipe my face as best I can, but the muggy summer air has my hair sticking to my neck and I realize how incredibly uncomfortable I am. I just want to curl up in my bed and forget any of this ever happened.

"Come on, ride home with us?" he asks it as if it's a question, but he is already leading me to the car.

I keep my eyes firmly on my shoes as we walk. He opens the back door and guides me gently into the seat. He leans over and grabs hold of the seatbelt, extending it across me and clicks it in place.

My eyes meet his as he lingers there, just staring at me. I can see the sadness coating Darius, I can feel that he wants to say something else, but the sound of arguing outside has him jerking back. He hits his head on the inside of the car because the shift is so abrupt, and we both wince at the impact.

"I'll be right back." Darius offers up a reassuring smile that doesn't quite meet his golden eyes before shutting the car door.

I move my attention to outside, and I find that the arguing is between Grayson and Axel.

I watch as Darius approaches them. Most of their words are inaudible but some are raised just loud enough for me to catch.

"She was in a new room—" Axel's voice is coated in anger.

"Did she—" Grayson is cut off by Darius's approach.

Darius shakes his head.

"Out of our sight—" Axel's voice lowers, and I have a hard time making out the rest, but they all turn their attention towards me.

"I'll talk to them," Grayson grumbles out in warning, and I see him walk towards me through the car window.

He wrenches open the driver's door and slams it shut, he takes a few steadying breaths before turning to me. "You okay?" His tone is jarring. His voice is a combination of sugar and spice.

I don't have a chance to answer as Darius pulls the back door open on the other side of me.

He slides in until we are touching. Leg to leg. Shoulder to arm. Knee to thigh. I didn't realize how much larger Darius is than me, but this close together it's hard to miss.

I know I shouldn't be allowing this, but I need comfort. I am not sure if it is the shock or the alcohol or something else in-between, but I feel raw. Like at the most minor inconvenience, I will lose the rest of my marbles.

"Axel is going to take his bike back. Cool his head," Darius advises us. He lifts his arm and wraps it around my shoulders pulling me further into his comfort.

I watch Grayson's face shimmer in the rearview mirror, but he says nothing.

I burrow firmly into Darius and allow myself this small moment of comfort. I find the solace that I didn't realize I so desperately needed. I do my best to ignore the guilt hammering its way down my throat, reminding me that I am the reason their brother drove home. That he would have had no motive to if not for me. I am the cause of why they were out on the roads during that storm, why their car hydroplaned off the road.

"I'm sorry. For everything," I whisper softly into Darius's cotton shirt. His warmth and smoky smell envelop me and it's not long before I lose myself to unconsciousness.

But before I do, I swear I hear him say, "None of this is your fault."