Libby
The darkness envelopes me when I wake, and the smell of the bedsheets wrapped around me is foreign. It doesn’t smell like mom’s laundry detergent at home.
Home.
My dad lying on the kitchen floor in a puddle of his own blood fills my mind and I open my eyes to make it go away.
I guess home isn’t home anymore. Not that I would want to return to the house that only held happiness when it was just me and my mom, perhaps Baze could come around more often now we don’t have to hide from my dad? Maybe home won’t be so bad now.
“Liss…no…don’t...please…I…can’t…”
Deep mumblings come from the corner of the room and I bolt up, holding the sheets up to my neck.
Dex, the brother from another chapter, is asleep in the chair, still fully dressed with his boots on, not even unlaced.
He looks like he’s ready for anything to happen at any time. In the darkness, I can make out ink on his hand, I can’t see what it is, but I can see his tatted up. I didn’t notice earlier, bearing in mind he had his hand around my neck. For the briefest moment, I thought he was going to strangle me. He doesn’t have steady eyes, trouble brews in them and darkness surrounds the trouble, there is a storm not only brewing in him, but raging as he looks at you. He is the complete opposite of Baze, where he has his hair grown out, Dex’s hair is shaved short around the sides and a mess on top. His Jawline is more pronounced, and his arms, from what I’ve seen, are thicker and his muscle are way more defined.
He isn’t like the guys around here, I don’t know if it’s because he listens, or because he just doesn’t fit in, but there is something about him that keeps you watching him, like now, when he’s sleeping, or suffering from nightmares if listening to his mumbles is anything to go by.
A part of me likes that he’s suffering from something, so much so, it’s attacking him in his dreams. A grown man, a guy wearing leather and a patch everyone in town fears is being haunted and can’t deal with it.
The brother’s walk around like nothing can touch them, and it’s about time one of them cracked. It’s a shame it wasn’t my dad, but he still got what he deserved. Baze is the closest to a gentleman, and even then, it’s not anything to desire. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t fallen in love with him. I want the lot. The rough and ready bad boy who has a heart of gold just for me. Baze is for sure a bad boy and he can be rough, but his heart, I’m pretty sure it’s made of coal.
Lying back down, I roll onto my side and I’m grateful I’m not outside in the shed any longer.
I’ve never been so cold in my life. My dad was a prick, but he was a prick who liked to crank the heating up in the winter.
“Lissa…”
All of a sudden, Dex is leaping out of the chair, and landing with a thump on the floor, and I sit back up.
He’s visibly shaking as he climbs up to his feet. He starts to pace the room, which isn’t very large, and doesn’t once look my way. His hands clench into fists and unclenches again. Over and over. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t quite understand what the hell he is going on about.
I jump when he suddenly drops to his knees, and braces himself on all fours, panting for a long breath.
Without thinking about what I’m doing, I slide out from under the sheets and fall to the floor before him.
Gripping onto his chin, my heart thumps heavily as I make contact with him. I don’t know how he will react to my touch, he hasn’t exactly been warm towards me, although, he does see through the lie.
I push his head up so he’s looking at me, and not the shabby carpet. I struggle to breathe, he looks so sad and because I recognise this, I’ll help him.
“Keep looking at me, and breathe with me,” I say to him, and inhale slowly and deeply.
I have to exhale and inhale again before he copies me, and after six long breaths, he’s calm. Not once did he take his eyes off me while I was trying to help him, he seemed to be trying to work me out.
He brings his hand up and covers mine for a split second, before falling onto his ass and freeing himself from me.
My fingers are damp from his sweat and after washing them in the bathroom, I dampen a face cloth and take it back out to him.
He doesn’t move to take it from me, so I drop to my knees and dab around his hairline, working my way down to his neck.
“Are you okay now?” I ask him, not sure if I’ll get a reply.
“I’m fine,” he croaks out, sounding full of bullshit.
“My mom used to have panic attacks too, they’re not very nice are they.”
Hers would occur when she knew my dad was on his way home after drinking at the club, or if she burned his dinner and didn’t have anything else in to start over.
“That’s not what that was, I just had a nightmare.”
Well, he couldn’t possibly be any more defensive.
“If you say so,” I murmur, pushing up to my feet.
I drop the cloth in his lap and return to bed. The spot I was in is still warm and I keep my eyes on Dex. He stays on the floor for so long, I’m falling asleep when he stands and comes to the side of the bed.
He tugs his tee over his head and sits on the edge, opposite to me. Unlacing his boots, he kicks them off and then throws the sheets back and lays down.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I whisper.
“About what?”
“About what wakes you in the middle of the night, shaking and pouring with sweat.”
“Love.”
“Love? That’s what gives you nightmares?”
He rolls his head on the pillow and looks at me, even in the dark I can see his disapproval.
“If you really did kill your dad, you might’ve understood. But, you didn’t, so go to sleep. In the morning, I’m taking you home.”
“Why?”
He sighs, and says, “I want to see the house and you need clothes and shit.”
“Why do you want to see the house?”
“Go to sleep.”
Fucking men. Barking orders and expecting silence. I hate them all. Rolling over, I keep my back to him and dread what Baze is going to say when he finds out I’m sleeping in the same bed as another guy.