Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Thirty Six

Drake

I didn’t expect to open my eyes and find Scarlett up here in my safe space. The place I came to when the world was dark and I couldn’t sleep. It was far more often than I liked to admit. And I knew exactly what Francis would tell me if I told him the truth. To take my damn sleeping pills and stop acting like I was a fucking impenetrable tower.

I’d felt her when she approached, but I was so lost in the music, I didn’t look at her until I’d finished the song. Now she was staring at my outstretched hand like it would physically harm her. I had no intention of doing anything to hurt her tonight. Weariness had sunk into my bones. All I wanted was to hold her against my chest and breathe her in. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for the way I’d behaved. I just plain wanted her near me.

Little wisp, I don’t want to fight anymore.

“Scarlett, please.”

I sounded so fucking desperate. It was pathetic. I was at her mercy and I hated everything about it. And yet I was too damn tired to stop it happening. Too fucking done with it all.

She took a tentative step towards me, making my heart slam against my ribcage. Another brought her closer. Two more closed the distance. Her hand slid into mine. The coldness of it made me want to warm her up. She must be freezing considering she was only wearing a thin shirt.

Her hazel-green eyes were guarded as she looked down at me. I didn’t blame her for being suspicious. I wasn’t going to ask her to sit with me again. She knew what I wanted. Whether she would oblige me was up to her. After everything, I had no right to order her into my lap. Besides, my walls were down. I didn’t have the energy to keep them up and hide how I felt.

Her thumb rubbed over the back of my hand. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from responding to her touch. Her skin was so fucking soft. She was delicate. A little wisp of a thing who haunted my every waking moment. The girl from my past had come back. The one who had always seen me. And I couldn’t deny I wanted her to see me again.

Scarlett didn’t say a word as she lowered herself into my lap and curled up against me. She rested her head on my chest, her hand splayed out over my heart and my whole body shook with the effort of trying to remain calm. I wrapped one arm around her whilst the other stroked her hair, holding her close. Fuck, she was so small. So fucking fragile.

Lowering my face, I pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my lips dusting over her skin.

She let out a breath and tucked her fingers beneath my shirt where I’d left the buttons open. Her cold hand on my warm skin made me shiver.

“The song you were playing, did you write that?”

Her question was asked so softly like she was afraid to break the silence.

“Yes.”

“What made you write something so haunting?”

You. You did.

I couldn’t tell her. Admitting she was the source of my torment felt like I’d open up the floodgates. There was too much at stake here. Too many secrets I had to keep. Letting her in right now when things were so precarious wasn’t an option. But if I didn’t give her something, a small piece of me, I might ruin everything between us for good. We may not come back from it.

“It’s the only way I know how to express my feelings.”

She peered up at me. Our faces were far too close, but I didn’t move back. The intimacy of the moment had me holding my breath, wondering what she would say.

“Is it lonely in your iron fortress?”

Fuck. Me.

“Yes.”

How could I say no? The truth was I’d felt alone since the day she was torn away from us. I had the boys, but without her, none of us felt complete. Not to mention how my fucking life imploded because of my piece of shit father. And keeping West from doing something to hurt himself was a whole other mission in itself. His reckless behaviour made him a danger to himself. We were sixteen. No fucking sixteen-year-old should ever have had to deal with the events of that night. What we’d done. It was fucked up on every level imaginable.

“What happened to you, Drake? Why are you so cold?”

Her hand was on my fucking heart. She could feel my warmth seeping out of me. But she was also right. I was cold. I’d buried all of my feelings so deep, I didn’t know how to find them again. Scarlett had forced them out into the open and no matter how much I struggled against the tide, I was drowning in them. In her.

My hand left her waist and cupped her face, my thumb running along her cheek. She didn’t stop me. Scarlett was waiting for my answer. I leant closer, pressing my forehead to hers. Our lips almost met. We breathed the same fucking air and still, she didn’t stop me.

“Something happened to us when we were younger and nothing was ever the same afterwards.”

“To us?”

“The four of us. We all have invisible scars.”

They’re there because of you, Scarlett. Because of what we did.

I didn’t think any of us were ever going to be able to make it up to her. And yet, we would keep her all the same. Even if she hated us. Even if she never wanted to see our faces again. We couldn’t live without her. We weren’t okay. We weren’t fucking okay.

Dropping my hand from her face, I stroked my fingers across her shirt where I knew the scars West had given her lay. They weren’t her only scars from us. The rest were down to our actions. The things we’d done.

Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for what we did to you.

But I wasn’t sorry for everything. Some of the things we did that night were necessary. I wouldn’t take them back. Not under any circumstances. I wish we hadn’t hurt her. Our best friend. The girl who stood by us through thick and thin. Who we protected with our lives.

“But it’s not just because of that, is it? Not for you.”

I shook my head, hating how she could see right through me. My walls weren’t there to protect me from this.

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It hurts too much.”

I nodded against her head, my lips brushing over hers. I hated how much I wanted to kiss her. To show her I wasn’t cold. To prove I had emotions. She brought them out in me. She was the key. I wished I could be free to show her affection and care like Prescott and Francis did. But I was way too fucked up and keeping far too many secrets.

She trembled as she held onto me. I was shaking too, but mine was with anger rather than the fear she was experiencing.

“Drake, what… what if you hadn’t…”

“Shh, I know, I’m here, Little Nyx. I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

If I hadn’t been there, fuck knows what would have happened to her. It had gone way too far this time. Way too fucking far. I was done with this shit. We weren’t going to stand for it any longer. When I told the others, they would agree with me.

“I can’t. I can’t do this.”

I could feel her tears soaking into my t-shirt, but I didn’t care. I’d hold her for as long as it took. I’d be right here for her. Scarlett needed me and the others now more than ever.

When she calmed down, I would go to them. And we would do something about this once and for all. Nothing, and I mean nothing, would stop us from protecting our best friend from any and all threats. And this shit? Well, it was the worst fucking threat of all.

I shuddered at the memory. That horrifying day. The one that had set all this into motion. And then I shut it down, locking it away before it could decimate me all over again.

“Will you play me something else?”

Her question made me pull back slightly, breaking our close contact. Those hazel-green eyes of hers were full of emotions, but she looked tired too. Like staying awake had become a chore.

“If you want me to.”

She nodded and tucked her face into my neck whilst keeping her hand on my chest. I adjusted her in my lap, shifting her legs up onto the arm of the chair so I had room to pop my guitar on my knee. I learnt how to play a long time ago, having begged my parents to buy me one. And I’d taught myself, practising for hours to get it right. It wasn’t until Scarlett was ripped from us when I started to write my own melodies. There were never any lyrics, just the music.

I picked my guitar, set it on my knee and fit my arms around it whilst still having Scarlet plastered to my chest.

“Do you want me to play you a lullaby?”

“Play me something you’ve never played for anyone else.”

I didn’t tend to play when others were around, though the other three had heard me. Partly why I had this room and the garden built so I didn’t disturb them at night.

“None of my songs are happy.”

“You wouldn’t be you if they were.”

Why the hell did she have to be so damn… perceptive?

“Okay, an unhappy tune it is.”

My fingers went to the strings, knowing exactly the song I wanted her to hear. The one I wrote about the day we lost her. Probably fucked up of me to play it to her, but I couldn’t think of anything more apt than this.

Playing with her in my lap wasn’t exactly easy, but I didn’t want her to go anywhere. The fact she was allowing this closeness between us had my heart burning for her. It reminded me far too much of when we were younger. When we were free of all these burdens, secrets and lies.

I hummed along to the tune even though there were no words. And when I felt her tears soaking my skin where she was pressed against it, I tried not to falter. The song made me want to cry too, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t allow them. I couldn’t afford to.

Slowly, but surely Scarlett’s breathing evened out until I was sure she’d fallen asleep. I brought the song to a close and set my guitar down. My eyes went to her face as her head had fallen on my shoulder. I stroked her cheek, wiping away the dried tears there.

“I wish you knew how truly sorry I am for everything, my little wisp.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead then gathered her up in my arms as I got up only to pop her back in the chair. I set about closing up my hideaway, putting my guitar on its stand before I picked her up again and carried her back downstairs. Scarlett didn’t stir and for that, I was glad. She needed to rest.

When I got to Francis’ room, I found both him and Prescott in his bed. I shook my head and smiled, setting Scarlett down on the end of the bed and unbuttoning the shirt she was wearing. As I did it, I felt something brush against my hand. Digging my fingers into the pocket, I drew out a small memory stick. This was why she was out of bed.

I slid it into my pocket, discarded the shirt and then placed Scarlett between Francis and Prescott, tucking her up under the covers. Making my way over to the door, I closed it behind me.

Was I pissed about the device?

Yes.

Did it mean I was going to say something to her?

No.

I’d asked Francis to allow this evening to play out. It meant seeing if she would go through with whatever her father had tasked her with. Now I’d intercepted it, perhaps I could use it to my advantage. Tomorrow, I’d discuss with Francis what happened at the game. And we would make a plan going forward.

As I walked back to my bedroom, I tried not to remember the way she’d cried in my arms as I played her a song I wrote about her. About the loss of her. The woman was already under my skin in the worst way possible. I loved witnessing the last moments of a person’s life drain from their eyes… but my little wisp might well end up being the harbinger of my downfall. She was making me feel for her in ways I never wanted to. And I couldn’t bring myself to hate her for any of it.