By two o'clock, my hands feel sore, but I'm done and the place looks spotless. Dean looks impressed when I tell him that I think I'm finished. He walks over to the fridge, pulling out two beers and handing me one. I give him a wide-eyed stare, not sure if he's really offering it to me or just testing me to see if I'd take it.
"What? You don't drink Bud?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Umm...not usually, and I'm not sure if I should. What if they get here and get mad that I'm in the kitchen drinking?" I really can't afford to make anybody angrier than they already are. My bruises are gone, but my body is sorer than ever. I don't even want to think about getting hit right now—and for a Bud Light? Definitely not worth it.
"Chick, just drink the damn beer. We'll take them downstairs."
I shrug and take it from him, letting the cold bottle sooth the pain in my hands before taking a sip of it and making my way back downstairs.
"Are you going to be upstairs the whole night then?" I ask him, sitting down cross-legged on the mattress.
"I dunno," he replies with a shrug. "I got some shit to do tonight, so I'll probably do that and then come back."
Panic must be written all over my face at hearing he'll be gone tonight, while who knows what sort of people are here for some twisted dinner party, because he chuckles.
"What kind of party are they having?" I ask.
"It's not really a party, it's just men getting together for dinner and drinks. No big deal, but you don't gotta worry about it. They'll be busy upstairs. Benny won't come down here in the middle of all that."
I humph my response because I highly doubt that. The only reason Benny's been absent to begin with is Dean. Once he gets wind that he won't be here, he'll definitely come down here to bother me. I don't voice my concern about it because it's clear that Dean believes what he believes and isn't going to sway from that. Who knows, maybe he's right.
"I heard from a trustworthy source that your dad did that shit on his face, you know?"
My lips pause on the brim of the beer bottle and I lower it from my mouth. "What...that scar?" I ask, horrified.
"Yeah. I heard he did it after he found out Benny supposedly killed you and that other kid."
"Cole," I say quietly.
"Cole your boyfriend?" Dean asks surprised.
"No, Cole your uncle. Obviously my boyfriend!" I deadpan with an eye roll.
He laughs, finding my outburst amusing, which makes me want to chuck the beer bottle in my hand at him. Instead, I take a couple of deep breaths and focus on the brown grout in between the tiles.
"Shit. I kinda feel bad for the guy now. Going through that as a kid and now losing his girlfriend. No wonder he's going out of his damn mind."
A loud gasp involuntarily escapes me and the bottle slips from my hand, clinking on the floor. Luckily I'm low enough that it doesn't cause it to break, and it's empty enough that it rolls a little but doesn't spill.
"You've seen him?" I ask, trying and failing to steady my breath.
"Yeah, I've seen him. He's been acting a fool everywhere he goes, kinda hard to miss."
My already broken heart cracks a little more as my imagination wanders to Cole getting drunk and doing God knows what. I know I should have more faith than to doubt him, but damn if these unwanted thoughts don't cross my mind anyway. It's not like it's the first time I've thought about it. I know Cole's coping methods are pretty slim. He gets drunk and gets laid, that pretty much sums it up. I close my eyes and will the tears from spilling. I can't think like that; he wouldn't do that to me.
"Look, chick, I told you I'd help you get out, and I will. Hanging out with a kidnapped girl isn't my idea of a fun time. Not that you're not fun, but I have a bad feeling about this. I don't see a good ending to it either. Gimme a couple more days."
I blink before looking at his serious face and nodding. When he leaves me alone with my thoughts, I finally let my sobs break free. I miss my family so much that I get actual chest pains when I think about them. I need to keep my head up and stay positive, come up with a plan to get myself out of here. I need to break free, and even though Dean says he's going to help me get out, I keep plotting ways to do it on my own.
Fucking hell. That's what this place feels like without her. There's not enough oxygen to fill my lungs as I look around the lifeless apartment. Our apartment. Every day in this place brings memories of what we had. All the laughs, the fights, the sex. Those memories haunt my waking hours. I walk over to the guest room, where I've been sleeping since that night. That dreadful night, when I landed in the fucking Twilight Zone.
I replay that day at least a hundred times in my head every day. I got out of my meeting early and went straight to the airport after making a pit stop. I got on the first flight available and called her when I landed. I called Bruce after not reaching Blake's phone. When his phone kept going to voicemail, I started panicking and called Aubry, Aimee, Becky, Greg, and Mark. I was even desperate enough to call fucking Russell. A few minutes after I got home, Mark called to tell me that Bruce was in the hospital. That's when my chest started to ache worse than it ever had before. I put my hand in the breast pocket of my jacket, right over my heart, and felt the velvet box that I'd brought back from New York.
According to Mark, Bruce had gotten knocked out with a hit in the back of the head, and shot in the leg. He said he didn't see anybody, didn't see it coming. He had been watching some guy across the street that he'd seen Blake speak to a couple of weeks before, and was blindsided when he got hit. He said he knew it had something to do with that guy.
I shake my head from the awful memories and pull out my phone to call Aimee. I've been avoiding her and Aubry and anybody that reminds me of Blake, really, which has pretty much made me a fucking hermit. An hour later, when I open the door for them, I'm greeted with two shocked faces.
"Hey," Aimee greets, giving me a half-assed smile.
"Hey, sorry I've been...out of touch," I reply as I hug her.
"I haven't wanted to see you either," Aubry mutters quietly. "You look like shit, by the way."
I raise my eyebrows. "Uh...thanks?"
I offer them something to drink before we settle down in the living room. After small talking about nothing of importance, I figure I might as well bring up the reason I called. Might as well get this shit over with.
"Aimee, I've been thinking that maybe your parents...our parents, whatever...can help me look for Blake. They have a lot of pull, so maybe...I don't know, maybe I can meet them and we'll go from there?"
Aimee's eyebrows hike up. "Sure, I mean, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. Are you ready to meet them? Do you want me to tell them?"
I let out a breath and scratch my beard. "I guess. It's not that I don't wanna meet them, it's just...I don't know, Maggie was my mom," I say in a shaky voice before clearing my throat. "I remember some things from when I was with you guys, but it almost feels like that was in a different life."
"I know, but they'll be happy to see you. I'm just glad I haven't seen much of them, because I don't know how I would have kept this whole thing to myself."