Chain Reaction 3.1.45: What We Find

Alaric

      I hung out at Dirk's house last night. Tonight, I want to go see Kyra. I'm talking to her on the phone when I get a text from my dad.

Come home right now! 

  

     I scowl. My first instinct is to argue with him, but I don't think it'll do any good. "Kyra, I gotta go. I'll call you back," I tell her. Then I text Dad back.

Fine. I was on my way anyway. 

     I start walking towards where I parked, but a man distracts me.

     "Hey, kid."

     Kid? I'm not a kid. I look at him curiously.

     His eyes... It's like looking in a mirror with the eyes.

     "You're Alaric Goth. I ...sort of... know your parents."

     "Okay?" I back up a step. I can run faster than this older man if I have to. There's something strange going on here, and I look around for any possible accomplices.

     He notices. "It's okay. I just... I have some information."

     "Who are you?"

     He puts his guitar down. Then he sighs. "Your grandmother. She's Brielle McKi- ...Taylor."

     "Yeah. But I asked who are you." I back up another two steps.

     "I'm Logan McKinney, your grandmother's little brother."

     "I... didn't know she had a little brother. You're lying."

     "Look, I have valuable information about the abduction... if it's happened yet." He sizes me up. "That is, unless you're loyal to your brother."

     Brother... "My brother's a snake." I pull out my phone, maintaining my distance and looking around. I call my dad.

     "I can't tell you how I know, but if we can act quickly, we might be able to save your cousin Michael."

     "Huh?" The phone rings. Dad answers.

     "Dad. Do you know a Logan McKinney?"

     There's a pause. "I know of him, but I've never actually met him. I think he's dead."

     "Well, then he's a dead guy up and walking around." I watch Logan smirk. "Dad, what's going on? Is there some trouble with Mike?"

     "Alaric, get your ass home right now!"

     "But he says he has information."

     Dad asks me to hand the phone to him. Logan says he'll only talk face-to-face. So, he ends up following me back to my house. The entire time, I don't hang up with Dad. 

     "I'm home." What's going on?

     Several things happen at once: Mom goes over and slaps Logan across the face; some dude in a fedora starts handcuffing him; Uncle Ethan pushes me to the side to make sure I'm out of the way; Dad tells me to go over to him.

     "You as-hole! You have some nerve showing up like this! Stay away from my son!"

     I fold my arms. If he were going to do anything, he'd have already done it. 

     Logan remains calm. "I know where he is." Fedora dude pauses.

     A dude with a man-bun speaks up next. He looks familiar, but I can't place him right now. "How do you know?"

     Mom gets shriller by the second. "Because you're part of it, aren't you?"

     Now Logan looks mad. "No, I'm not! But I have ears! Some men are getting paid an awful lot by The Snake, and I don't think it's the kind of 'friendly' kidnapping he arranged for you that time."

     Several of us say things like 'what?' or 'huh?' Mom sounds shaky as she asks, "What are you talking about?"

     Logan struggles against fedora-hat-man. "Un-cuff me! I'm here to help!"

     "Do it!" Dad yells from where he was sitting at the table still. He leaves what he was working on and walks over. "Where did they take him?"
     "I'll be glad to show you--but only if I'm un-cuffed." He glares at fedora-dude.
     "Do it, Marco," man-bun guy says.

Darrin

     We rush over to where Detective Taylor's long-lost uncle advised us to go. Of course it's in the worst section of town. On our way there, Marco gets a call from the station that an anonymous tip was left stating where Mike was. It was made from a payphone. I didn't even know those were still in use. At any rate, we can't possibly know who gave the tip. For all we know, it could've been Drake himself. If it was... I get a sinking feeling... If it was, that means he's done with him.

     We arrive and dash down a flight of stairs to a musty underground network of tunnels, almost like it was originally designed as a fallout shelter and is no longer in use.

     We enter the room Logan McKinney tells us to, always on the lookout for a trap. But what we find is far worse.

     "No." I can't believe my eyes.

     Detective Taylor stands motionless behind me for one second before dashing over to his son. Logan McKinney starts throwing up in a corner of the room. Marco finds a set of keys on the table. And on the table, displayed like a forgotten trophy, is... is...

    I start screaming in rage, and I run over to the love of my life where he hangs on the wall. My gun still in my hand, I shoot the chains, breaking them, and Mike's father barely catches him before he can hit the floor.

    He quickly removes the cuffs from my beloved Michael's bruised wrists.

     Michael moans, and his father whispers to him that it's going to be okay. Marco calls up to dispatch, but he doesn't have a good signal, being underground like we are. He's yelling at them to get a f--king ambulance over here and how they need an ice chest.

    It's too much. It's all too much. I can't handle it! Oh f--k, he chopped Mike's d*ck off! I'm shaking and doing the best I can to keep from screaming. I don't want to risk waking him up. In my days, I've seen some horrible sh*t, but seeing it done to Michael has done me in.

    Drake even took the time to bandage him up before he left. He obviously wanted Mike to live, to live with this horrific thing done to him.

    "Darrin."

     I can't look. I failed Michael. It's all my fault.

    "Darrin, he's going to be okay." It's Detective Taylor. 

    I whine and cry. "No. No no no."

    Paramedics rush in, put Mike's chopped off member in a cooler filled with ice, and load him onto a stretcher. Detective Taylor and I both ride in the ambulance to the hospital.

     They rush him into the OR. After a little while, other members of the Taylor family show up. I can't show my face. It's all my fault. Mike got abducted because I had to pee. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let him go outside alone. It's all my fault. He'll never be the same, and he'll blame me. It's all my fault. I never should've left him. It's all my fault. He's been mutilated, and it's all my fault.

     He's going to hate me! Just when we were patching things up for real, this happens. I know him; he's going to try to push me away, thinking he's ruined. I don't care! I mean, I do care. I loved his d*ck, but it doesn't affect how I love him. I'm just heartbroken that my beautiful Michael is scarred for life. And it's all my fault!

     The twins are having an argument, something to do with Tommy. I think that's the name of one of their husbands. Mrs. Taylor and Detective Taylor are talking about Logan. Logan vanished by the time he finished vomiting out his stomach. Marco got pissed off about that, and he went out looking for him. He won't find him.

    No one wants to talk about what Michael's going through. What's the use if they did? We're all worried. I wish I could think of something else, even if only for a moment, but I can't. I'll never get that picture out of my mind.

     He was hanging from cold steel chains attached to a brick wall. That snake had cut his pants before chopping more than half his d*ck off. Then he stuck around to bandage him up. He further ensured he'd remain alive by calling the police before vanishing. He wanted revenge on Michael, and he got it. 

    I can't raise my head. I can't. I feel guilty even sitting here with his family. As if I belong. As if I'm one of them. They all should hate me. It's my fault. Some police officer I am. Can't even protect my own boyfriend. Can't even get to him in time. Can't even catch the guy who did it.

    "Darrin." Detective Taylor is trying to get my attention again. 

    I start rocking, unable to handle it. He should just ignore me.

    "Darrin, he's going to be okay." Now even the twins have shut up, and I can feel everyone looking at me. I shake my head no, still holding it in my hands.

      "We got to him in time. The doctors are giving him excellent chances." He must be watching me shake my head still. "Look, at least he didn't throw it into a meat grinder."

     "Dad! Augh! Ew!" one of the twins exclaims. They even sound exactly alike. If they didn't style their hair differently and one of them like makeup more than the other, I'd never be able to tell them apart.

     "Well! It's true. He could've mutilated it beyond repair. He could've thrown it out somewhere we couldn't find. Yet he left it for us." He sounds like he's trying to figure out why.

     "Ethan, stop talking about it," his mother shushes him.

     I love Mike's dad. Now he's a detective, not some full-of-sh*t loser like me. Already, he's trying to get into Drake's mind, figure out the motivation. I wouldn't doubt he's now hellbent on catching the rat bastard sonofab*tch. Detective Taylor isn't cracking apart at the seams. Back in the hell chamber, he was more relieved than anything, relieved Mike was alive. Oh, I'm not saying he wasn't/isn't horrified, but he's using his emotions constructively, unlike me.

     My phone chirps. I pull it out, keeping my head down.

I told the chief you're not coming in today as well. 

     Marco. F--k, it's already five in the morning. In all the mess, Marco had also told the chief I wouldn't be in yesterday either. I owe him one.

Thanks

     I put my phone away and go back to rocking in place. 

     Then the doc comes out. Mike's coming out of surgery. His prognosis is good, but I know this is nowhere near over.

Chain Reaction 3.1.44: Revenge

WARNING! Violence, horror. And I apologize for the limited pictures. It was bad enough to write it.

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Michael

     My neck hurts. So do my arms, and my shoulders ache. With a moan, I open my eyes to realize I also have a headache, a hangover probably.

     And I'm chained up.

     My heart rate skyrockets as I pant and wildly look around. Where am I?! What's going on?! Why?! Who?! Looking up, I see my wrists. I have to look at them because I can't feel them anymore. Who knows how long they've been above my head, and that explains why my shoulders ache since I must've been slumped here in an almost-standing position. I try to flex my hand, but nothing happens.

     No no. No no no. Oh f--k no. What's going on? I swallow back a scream. It won't do any good and will undoubtedly attract my abductor's attention. Breathe, Michael. Try to find a way to escape. I work at moving my hand again, and I manage to get it to twitch. But that's it. My ankles have a bit more wiggle-room, so I try to kick the chains loose from the brick wall. They're heavy... and loud.
     Who abducted me? Some crazed fan?
     A door opens, and the absolute last person I want to see steps through the doorway.

     "Ah, hello, Mikey. I trust you slept well?"

     "No. Oh f--k no!"

     Drake laughs evilly. "What's the matter? Not happy to see your old pal?" He puts a large black bag on a nearby table. "You owe me a debt."

     I breathe fast. "Drake... whatever it is... I'm sure we can work something out." He pulls out a knife from the bag and lays it on the table. Then another, smaller one. Then a scalpel. Then some gauze and gauze tape. F--k! 

     He laughs again. "Oh, ready to negotiate now, are you?"

     "Drake, whatever it is you're planning, let's talk. Maybe I can offer you a better deal." Oh f--k. Negotiate with Drake Goth?

     He pulls out a pair of old scissors. "I'm past negotiations, as-hat." He walks up to me and starts tracing the tip of the scissors on my chest and abdomen. I try to move away, but he just follows. "I've done so much for you, and you thanked me by destroying my chance at love. You have no idea the lengths I went through to get her back."

     Don't cry! "You killed my grandfather, though, the father of the woman you love."

     He puts his face inches from mine. "Surely you of all people can understand that sacrifices have to be made." He pulls the scissors up and opens them in front of my face, and the sound plus the fear make me want to throw up. 

      "I was planning on killing Pops, but I thought it would be sweeter if he spent the rest of his days in prison. Or worse." He reaches down and pulls on the waistband of my jeans. Then he puts the open scissors at the edge of the fabric. He starts cutting straight down.

    "No! Whatever it is, no!" I try to wiggle away from the foul scissors, but he merely smirks and keeps cutting a jagged line to my mid-thigh. "We can... We can get Aunt Emily back for you! Let me help!" I'm lying, of course, but I'm getting desperate.

     He pulls the scissors out from my jeans and laughs hard up to the ceiling. "This is why I waited for you to be conscious. It's so much more fun!" He pulls on my waistband again, it being easier this time, and he starts a line down the other leg.

     I didn't want to beg. "No, Drake. Please. Please! Whatever I can do to help, I will!" I do not like where this is going.

     "I'm far beyond seeking help now, Mikey. Thanks to you, I'm back at square zero."

     Lie to him! "But that's why you need my help! I can... I can discredit Uncle Alex. Something illegal. Something to put him in jail. I can't think of anything immediately, but if you'd just give me some time-"

     "So I can what? Huh? Win Emily over while Pops rots in prison? You're not very creative, Mikey. That ship has sailed." He cuts off my boxers in the same manner he did my jeans--but the boxers get tossed aside.

      I'm completely exposed, and he stands back and looks at me. His eyebrows raise. "I'm not into dudes, but Mother Nature was kind to you. Such a shame."

     "What? What! What do you mean by that? Drake, stop. Please!" I fight on the chains. I don't want to know what he's going to do.

     A fleeting fantasy of someone charging in to save me flies through my mind. Dad, Darrin, somebody! Drake puts down the scissors and picks up the scalpel. He toys with it, not looking at me.

     "Decisions, decisions. Do I want more pain or more damage?"

     "Please, Drake. Just don't."

     He slowly turns to me with a look that will haunt my nightmares forever--if I live. "I will never have love again. You took that from me. So now, I'm taking it from you." He steps closer to me, slowly. "Does your boyfriend love your dick, Mikey? Does he think it's beautiful? Do you like watching him suck on it?"

     Tears splotch down at my feet. "No. No, please." Darrin, help!

     "Mm! Do you like f--king his ass?"

     I yell in terror and violently fight the chains. This is a nightmare! Let me wake up! 

     Drake faces me, nose-to-nose. "Too bad that'll only exist in memory." He pushes his left arm against my torso, leaning into me and holding me fast against the wall, and he runs the scalpel down my penis, slicing it to the tip.

     I scream. And I scream again. White-hot pain sears every cell in my body.

     While I shake and cry, screaming intermittantly, he speaks again. "Do you know Emily had a miscarriage? I lost a baby. So now you'll never have children." He makes a slice at each of my testicles, and I scream at the top of my lungs, now not only in pain but heartache.

    He stands and spits in my face. I hang my head and cry loudly, watching my blood drip to the floor. The pain! Oh, the pain! I can't scream loud enough; there's no relief from it. I shriek up to my hands, expecting to see blood coming out from them as well. Surely, there's blood everywhere from this extreme agony. They're fine? But the pain! I can't escape the pain! Someone please help!

    On his way back to the table, he laughs, mocking the waves of horrendous lightning-hot shoots of mind-numbing anguish. He speaks between my yells, "Oh, but don't worry. I'm going to let you live!" He grabs hold of the heavy table and starts pulling it toward me. He has to grunt a few times to move its heavy bulk. No, no! Get away from me! "Perfect height, wouldn't you say?" He pushes it up against me, crushing my lower hips back against the brick wall. "Say goodbye, Michael." He lays out my dick on the table and reaches for the large knife.

     "NO!" I scream louder than I ever have, fighting against the sturdy, solid oak. Then, as if in slow motion, I watch helplessly as the knife falls, cutting straight through to the table.

     And everything goes black.

Chain Reaction 3.1.43: Twenty-four Hours

Darrin

     Mike had told me he planned to use the back exit so that we could have a little more privacy. The little voice in my head that I refer to as the ogre, the one who loves to tell me everything I've ever done wrong over and over again, is going crazy. I know it's really just another side of me, but it's a really annoying side.

     'This is crazy! What are you doing, Darrin! Michael? Again? Really?'

     Shut up. I love him. I once wished that dream I had could've been real--but with a better ending. And now, I'm getting my wish.

     'You'll regret this.' 

     I shake my head and mentally push that ogre aside. It's cold outside, and spin into my outerwear. Mike was only wearing a short sleeved shirt. I don't know if he brought a jacket.

     Where is he?

     I look around, wondering if he'd gone back in to find a jacket. Looking inside, I don't see him. At any rate, he's bound to come back out.

     I'm so happy that I doubt this smile leaves my face for a solid twenty-four hours.

     Well, SOMEONE'S been here, I think absently, looking at the footprints.

     I walk out to the water and watch the boats as they go by.

     Where is he?

     'He left you, you crazy f--k.' 

     I roll my eyes, and my vision falls upon a drag mark on the snow at the little wall. It goes to the water's edge. And I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

    "Michael?" I call out, praying.

    Oh f--k. No. No. NO!

    The snow keeps falling around me as my breathing sounds too loud in my ears. Snow falling. Covering the tracks.

    No. No no no. No. No. NO. I'm wrong. I'm wrong! Oh F--K! The tracks are getting fainter by the minute.

    I pull out my phone, go to the camera, and turn on the flash. Pictures. The drag mark to the water. The drag mark near the little tree. The footsteps far enough apart to be running... until he fell...

    I go into autopilot as I take the pictures. This is crazy. He's inside. He'll be out in a minute and wondering what I'm doing. I'm going to look ridiculous.

    'Take the plumdamn pictures you dumb f--k!'

    "Michael?!" I yell. I look out at the water. Too many boats! Oh f--k!

    I run back inside, hyperventilating. I can't find him! I ask around and ask if anyone's seen him. A few people even know who he is, but they haven't seen him recently.

    No.

    I walk back outside in a daze. I have to be wrong. I'm jumping to conclusions.

    I have to call someone! I call the station, and they say they'll send someone to investigate. I tell them what I've gathered. This is going to look suspicious on me, but I've had this fear for ages now. And I saw the tracks starting to vanish. I'm a detective, dammit! I know what to do!

    When I'm not drunk!

    I go to the spot on the snow that has the biggest indent... like a body had laid there. I reach a few fingers down into the snow.

    Warm. Not very much, but warmer than the snow and ground.

    I must've walked out only moments after they took him.

    "What's going on, F--kface?"

    I stand up and spin around. "Marco! He's gone! Michael! Look! Can you still see the tracks? Oh f--k, Marco! They got him!"

    He watches me, and I yell at him to look. "Please! They only had a tiny window of time! I told him I'd meet him out here after visiting the men's room! He's not inside!"

    Marco holds my shoulders. "Darrin. Breathe." I hear the hurt yet resignation in his voice. He's always known I love Michael. "Have you messed with the tracks?" Thank the maker. He went from occasional lover mode to detective mode in mere seconds.

    I move my hands and walk back over to where I was. "Only to touch right here and find it somewhat warmer than it would be if it were just snow. I took pictures."

    "You did?" He looks shocked, and I see the fleeting thought that I had something to do with this cross his mind. I could punch him.

    "Yes, dammit. I told myself I was crazy, but it looked suspicious. And he wasn't around. I couldn't find him. The tracks were disappearing from the snowfall. I had to get them. Where did they take him? Where is he? Did they drug him? How? Am I crazy? Did he just leave?" I get out my phone and call him. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. I leave a message for him to call me because I'm freaking out that something happened to him:

    "If you decided to not see me anymore, just let me know so I don't fear the worst. Because I'm fearing the worst." I hang up. And I burst into tears. Why did I have to go to the bathroom? Why did I have to drink so much that I drove my bladder crazy? It's all my fault! I should've known better! I should've asked him to wait!

    Marco holds my shoulders again. "Darrin! Get a hold of yourself! We're going to search the building." We do, and we don't find him. Again.
    Marco drives me to Michael's house.

    He isn't home.

    "Could he be somewhere else? With someone else? Did he go to his folks? Siblings?" Marco asks.

    I get out my phone again and call Detective Taylor. A sleepy voice answers, but he wakes up fast when I tell him what I'm fearing. He starts going into a rant that he TOLD Mikey to get a bodyguard EVERY TIME he went out. He says to meet him at his brother-in-law's, and he hangs up.

    It's all my fault. I lost his son.

    'Pull yourself together and stop acting like a p--sy.'

    I turn to Marco again. "I HATE the twenty-four hour thing! Do you know what can HAPPEN in twenty-four hours?!" They won't launch an official missing person's report until this time tomorrow. And Michael could be dead by then.

    "Yes. And it's why I'm here. F--k the twenty-four hour rule. I trust your gut."

    I blink. That's probably the nicest thing he's ever said to me that had nothing to do with f--king. "Thank you."

    The as-hole returns. "Don't start crying on me, Darrin. I'll punch you in the face if that's what it takes to get you to focus." He watches me. "Where to next?"

    "Detective Taylor said go to Alexander Goth's place."

    His eyebrows raise. "His majesty, Lord Goth's place, eh? I've always wanted to meet the sonofab*tch. Get in the car."

    I'm ...glad... Marco is here. That's a first.

    I'm coming, Michael. I swear I'll find you before it's too late.

Chain Reaction 3.1.42: Be Careful

     "Hi." I feel lifted. And still a tad bit drunk.
     He smiles back sadly. "Michael. Have you put a tracking device on me?"
     I grin. "No, but thanks for the idea." I'm teasing. "Seriously, though. I've been here all night."
     His brows come together. "Really? I've been here probably twenty minutes."
     Whoops. Do I lie? "Can't a dude just stand hidden and watch your smexy ass dance?"
     He purses his lips. "I don't know what you were doing, but you weren't watching me."
     I laugh like it's a joke. He decides not to ask me again.

     The corners of his mouth lift. "Be careful, Michael. I think I'm drunk."
     Butterflies start up kickboxing lessons in my stomach. Darrin still gives me butterflies. I grin. "Yeah me too."
     "Of course you are."
     "But not as bad as last time." I'm truly alive again with the way he looks at me.
     Damn, Michael. Just how many men ARE you going to run through tonight? I'm such a slut, but this is DARRIN. It's more than physical. Guilt starts knocking on the door, but I don't let it in. Instead, I think back to the last time I saw Darrin drunk.

     "Soooo... will I ever get to hear what happened in that dream? The one you called me about?" I keep up the cute and innocent act because he's eating it up.
     "No."
     "Why?"
     "Because."
     "Because why?"
     "Because..." He closes his eyes and sighs.

     He's trying to block me out. Maybe my eyes. I wanna kiss him.
     "Because it had a bad ending."
     "Ohhhhhh." I pretend to understand. If I could think clearly, I might be able to figure it out, so I store this info for later. "That bad, huh?" I take a tiny step closer. This is so much fun... even if things are so much more serious with Darrin. Closer. Our noses are almost touching, but I don't think he realizes how close I am. "What happened before the bad ending?" I grin.
     His eyes fly open, shocked I'd gotten nose-to-nose with him. "Michael!"

     I giggle, and Darrin backs up.
     "Maybe I should be the one who needs to be careful. You're dangerous like this."
     "Aw, c'mon. I'm not that bad." Yes, yes I am. I'm on some kind of crazy kick tonight. I'll probably hate myself tomorrow. But that's future Mike's problem.
     "It was bad because you were still with Ivy."
     My smile drops for two seconds. Don't mention that crazy b*tch. I smile again. "Well then, the ending shouldn't be 'bad' anymore, should it?" Just kiss me, dammit.

      "You seriously wanna know."
      "Uh huh." I rapidly nod my head before I have to stop and hold it to make the room stop swaying.
      "You're not going to go all crazy mad and yelling and threatening restraining orders on me."
      "Uh uh." I shake my head fast before I realize I didn't learn my lesson the first time. Everything I drank earlier is still very much in me.
      "C'mon." He grabs my hand starts leading me to the stairs. Yay!
      We sit down, and he slaps his hand down on his thigh. So I slap my hand on it playfully. He purses his lips and slaps my hand with his other one. So I do the same. Then he brings his hand out from the bottom and slaps our stack of hands. I do the same. And we continue like this until I'm ready to crack up laughing. Until he squeezes my hand, stopping me.

     He pauses and looks at me, and my heart aches at the expression. Plum it. I'll never stop loving him.
     I watch him swallow before he opens his mouth to speak. "I..." He cuts himself off.
     I'm suddenly very ashamed of my behavior earlier, but I do my best to hide it.
     He takes a steadying breath. He acts like he wants to REALLY talk, and I wonder if it's because he's drunk. That always makes him braver... or stupider, but I'll go for brave right now.

     "That dream: You said I said some things out loud that night. Let's start from there. What did I say?"
     Through everything, I've kept this in my mind, sometimes hearing it in my dreams. "You said, 'Michael don't hate me' and 'I don't care what you did' and... 'I love you beyond all sense or reason.'" And in my best fantasies, when I let myself have them, I treat those words like he meant them.
      He closes his eyes in a kind of 'oh f--k' way, and he shakes for a moment. He takes a breath. I start wondering if his reaction has more to do with him knowing I know he said the last thing in that list, the 'I love you beyond all sense or reason,' even though I also know it might not be true. Then when his eyes open, it's like being hit by a tidal wave. It's too much for me in my current state, and I close my eyes. Oh plum, is it more than fantasy?

     "And I do."
     I have to fight to keep from crying. I can't hide it; I know he can tell. He doesn't do or say anything, letting me work through my emotions. Darrin went out on a very flimsy limb just now, and I know that it might be because he's drunk. I know from experience that I can't trust that this will still be outwardly displayed come the morning, but I KNOW. He still loves me. After all this time.
     Finally able to breathe normally again, I ask, "So what was the context you said it in?" I open my eyes and see he's dying to kiss me. Please do.
     He leans in, but he passes my lips to speak into my ear.

     And I hear all about a very nice sexual fantasy of a dream. No way in hell would he tell me this sober, and I can see why he quickly cut me off when I'd asked the next morning.
    Neither of us can stand it anymore.

     We really are both a couple of drunk idiots. But I don't care. I'll fight to get him back now, screw my whole resolution never to take him back.
      I may not have to fight hard, though.

     Darrin pulls back before anything can escalate farther. I say let it... but I can see his point. Nothing about it would be casual.
     I smile. "I like drunk Darrin." Then a memory slams into me. "But that time, when you were drunk..."
     "I know."
     "Darrin, I have to know. Don't use me again."
     "I'm so sorry. I did that without working through things, and when I realized what I'd done, how I'd just keep hurting you, I knew I had to sever all contact with you. And I had to make it look good. Well, bad. Believable." He smiles in a guilty way.
     I think of something else I'd wondered about. "Did you really hate me? That was you, right? The night of the livestream? SuperCop45?"

     He thinks for a minute, remembering. "It's impossible to hate you, Michael. That was meant for Ivy. I would've corrected you, but the chat got way too happy after that, and I couldn't stand it."
     "The chat got rather perverted after that, and that's really saying something."
     "Did you love her?" He almost looks like he'll accept whatever answer I give.
     "Yes, but... differently. I can't explain it. It's hard to think clearly."
     "I know what you mean." He takes a breath. "Mike, you said you have to know. You want to know if I'm serious. Yes. Come back to me, Michael. I'd like to start again."
      Whee! I crash into him, kissing him senseless, lying on top of him on the sofa. Oh, Darrin! He moans and holds my head to him, slanting his mouth against mine and kissing me back like tomorrow won't happen. I start going for his pants, and he stops me.
     "Wait."
     "Why?"
     He's panting, clearly fully turned on. "There's something..." He puts his hand on his forehead. I start kissing his jaw. "Mike, we have to... figure ourselves out. Something like that. Clear the air to make a clean slate. I don't want it starting like this."
     Plum. He makes a good point. Even if I wanna f--k his brains out. "And we can't do that drunk."
     He takes a relieved breath. "Right."
     "Then let's go get some air. It's cold outside; maybe it'll clear our heads."
     "Okay. I've... got to go to the men's room first. I really had too much to drink."
     "Okay. I'll meet you out there." I walk downstairs and out the back exit. Darrin is right. We need to clear our heads.
     I smile as brightly as the midsummer sun. It'd started snowing while I'd been inside. First snow of the season. Too bad the ice beneath my shoes doesn't match my buoyant mood. An arm reaches out to catch me.

     "Whoa there. You'd better be careful. You okay?"
     I look at him. "Yeah. Thanks."
     "I was wondering when you'd finally leave."

     "Huh?"
     I don't get to ask anything else before his other hand stabs a syringe in my stomach. I gasp.
     "Nighty night now."
     "What?! Oh hell no!" I jab his ribs as hard as I can with my elbow. He folds in half, and I make a run for it.

     I hear him coughing. He doesn't chase after me.
     Then I slip! I stumble over the small tree. It's not the ice that made me fall. I'm running in snow--not as slippery.
     It's because my legs won't work. I can't get them to move--like they've gone to sleep.
     A firework gets shot up into the air.

     I start dragging myself along the ground. "No." This can't be happening!
     A motorboat pulls up to the edge of the water. "That him?" one of the men asks.
     "Yeah. Just give him a minute. He's a big guy," the man behind me replies.
     Oh f--k no. Darrin! I fight with everything I have, but the edges of my vision go black. I speak to myself, "No, Michael." I can't stop it! I'm shaking from the effort. I can't feel my arms now.
     Then I'm gone.

Chain Reaction 3.1.41: Hurts

     "You can talk to me about anything," I tell her in response to her saying she needs to talk to me about something. Plum yeah she can talk to me. PLEASE talk to me.
     I realize I'm being obvious. No matter what I try, I miss her. I know I look like scum to her, given the whole Lizette thing, but that meant nothing. I was pressured into it, and if I had to do it all over again, I would've told the guys to shove it up their ass.
     For a moment, I think of Dirk and how much he's changed since that night. He fell madly in love with Lizette, but Lizette isn't serious about him. She graduated a few years ago already, and she's been working in a wings bar/restaurant, one specifically designed to objectify women. It's killing him.

     "I'm officially moving to Willow Creek in a few weeks," Kate tells me, slamming me back into the present.
     I swallow. I knew this day was coming, and I wish I could prevent the panic from rising in me. I'd ask her if she's sure about this, but I know she is. "Do you need any help?" Translation: please let me see you again.
     It's not that I haven't seen her a few times this summer. Kyra has asked me to come over and hang out, and since Kate now lives there, I'd see her too.
     "Not really. I don't have many belongings, and the grants and scholarships I have pay for everything else I'll need." She smiles at me like all her dreams have come true, which I know they have.
     My throat is parched. "Congratulations, Kate. Really. I know what this means to you."
     "Thank you. I'm really excited." Her face gets more serious. "I'm also more than a little nervous, but I realized earlier today that I'm going to be okay. And I know that's due in part to you."

     "Me?"
     She smiles at my expression. "I know it may sound strange now, but you brought me out of my shell. Thanks to you, I became best friends with Kyra. None of that would've happened had we not dated and I'd remained the 'nerd girl.'"
     "No. I think you would've made friends eventually."
     She shakes her head. "I don't think so." Her eyes move to her lap. "I wanted to apologize, Alaric. Contrary to the things I said, you're not really a bad person. You've done some really stupid things, but I don't think those things define you."
     Then go out with me again, I plead with my eyes, and she sees.

     "That's not saying I want to start again," she says quickly. "I'm moving hundreds of miles away. It wouldn't make sense, not to mention I don't feel like that for you anymore."
      Oh. Ouch. That stung.
      She sighs. "What I'm trying, and thus far failing miserably, to say is that I don't hate you. I'd really like it if we could keep in touch. As friends."
      I find myself agreeing, and then we get quiet.

      Life in the Friend Zone. I don't see it working, but Kate has a point. It would be tricky to have a long-distance relationship like that, especially one that might've been recently rekindled. It's not going to happen. Ever.
      She breaks the silence, "You know, Kyra really liked it when you'd come over and hang out. After you'd leave, she wouldn't shut up about it. It's more than a little annoying when your best friend goes on and on about your ex-boyfriend."
      "It was fun," I agree. My brain is still on the fact that Kate and I are never getting back together.
      She takes a breath. "So, I hope you two continue to hang out together. She really likes you."
      I scratch the back of my head, only half-listening to her. "Yeah."
      She looks at me with an unreadable expression. "Well, I gotta get going."
      "Okay," I reply, and we stand up. Then I hug her.

      "I really am happy for you, Kate. This is your dream, and it's coming true. Knock 'em dead for me, okay?"
       I feel her nod, and she sniffs. "I'll call you sometimes, but especially since I'll be gone, don't let Kyra be lonely."
       "Okay."

Michael

     I've made quite a huge chunk of change from my modeling these recent months since my cover. Apparently, my 'adorable eyes' have clients scrambling for me. I actually get to pick and choose who I work for now. About ninety percent of the time, Hugh is my photographer.
     Today, we did another Fabercrombie and Stitch spread along with a few other really hot guys, many of whom were with me on my first cover. We've become their literal poster boys, and I start to wonder how weird it will be to go shopping and see my face, and body, displayed everywhere.

     After the shoot, Hugh invites us all out to a club. Here lately, I've occasionally hired a bodyguard or two in order to keep away the more aggressive fans. That makes Dad more relaxed knowing that because they still haven't found a trace of Drake Goth. I think he's dead, probably killed by someone else he'd wronged in the past.
     Tonight, I don't have a bodyguard, but this club has better security than most. And a few other models have their buff guard dogs nearby.

     I doubt there's a club in Eden I haven't been to, and all of them haunt me with memories of Darrin. Plum, I miss the motherf--ker. Will that ever go away?

     When we walked in, our group tipped the scales on the men to women ratio. Although, we did bring the assistant Hugh hired. She's cute, but one of the other models acted possessive, not in a mean way, just making it obvious.

     Of course, neither Hugh nor I care about the ratio. It's just something I noticed.

     I decide to dance. I'm only a little drunk. It's not bad.

     Hugh walks up to me immediately. "Mike, what were you doing at the bar? Not that I can tell you what to do and not to do, but you know you can't tolerate it." 

     "I'm fine," I reply and look him up and down. And so are you. 

     He steps closer. "I've told you you have expressive eyes."

     I smirk. "Yeah."

     He pounces, and I doubt anyone bats an eye. Although, I think I do hear a low chuckle somewhere behind him.

     Hugh pulls back. "Downstairs. There's... downstairs."

     "Okay." I smile, and he pulls me behind him.

     After this, Hugh buys everyone a round of drinks before leaving to go and start working on the photos.

     I get to know the guys a little better. Pedro, the guy in the open, pink shirt, has a lot of funny stories. He's known Hugh a lot longer than the rest of us have.

     Later, I walk out of the bathroom to find Pedro seated on the small sofa.

     "Oh hey. Sorry. Were you waiting?"

     He smiles. "Not for the bathroom." He pats the seat next to him.

     I shrug and sit down.

     "So how does it feel to be Hugh's new favorite boy toy?"

     I sense a bit of jealousy. "Oh, Hugh. You know, that just kind of... happened. I realize I'm not the only one." I say that last bit because I kind of wondered if he thought he was going to let me know Hugh has other lovers. That's not news.

     Vanity. It's all over him like a lotion on his skin. He's hot, and he knows it. And he likes it. That's probably why he'd quickly unbuttoned his shirt once he got 'too hot' on the dance floor. I suspect it was more to show off. Thing is, all the guys today are hot. I just haven't figured out where all their compasses point.

     He smiles. "So what was his excuse with you?"

     "Nothing. I got drunk. It's shameful how quickly I can get like that. He actually sounded disappointed that him flirting with me in that condition made him look like a jerk trying to take advantage of me."

     Pedro laughs.

     "That's because he was. Don't feel bad, though."

     "So I take it he's done something like that to you?"

     He laughs again. I think he's given up on thinking he can surprise me about how Hugh really is. "Of course! I didn't mind, though. I may have even started it. He's cute in a kind of... artsy way, you know?"

     I smile. "So, uh, I guess your turn. You asked me. How did it happen?"

     He laughs... again. He must be a funny drunk. "It was kind of cheesy. We were sitting on his sofa, and he slid over..." He slides over right next to me as if acting out the scene...

     "...and comments on how tense I was." He starts massaging my shoulders.

     I laugh. "You're right. That's gotta be one of the oldest moves in the book."

     He smiles. "But I liked it." He keeps massaging. "Damn, Michael, you really are tense."

     Plum that IS good. "Yeah. Well, I was a little nervous today."

     He chuckles. "I guess I can understand that. You rode a rocket straight to the top. Some of us are a little jealous. Not me because I did the same thing, but yeah."

     I'm getting turned on. I don't know if that's what he's going for, but it's working.

     "I guess that shouldn't surprise anyone since you're gorgeous." He stops, but his arm stays behind me.

     "Well, so are you." Damn, his eyes are incredible. I can't exactly figure out their color. There's green and yellow and red and maybe blue in the mix as well.

     His face gets closer to mine. It happens slowly, giving me ample opportunity to back out.

      Plum I am easy. Well, so is he.

      He's teasing me, keeping it light. So I go for more, and that was apparently what he'd been waiting for. His breathing picks up speed, and I let him push me back on the sofa.

     I sense a kind of... loneliness from him. Do I have some of Charlotte's gift too? It's so strong that I'd bet anyone could feel it. So I hold him and kiss him in a kind of comforting way. Who broke your heart, Pedro? 

     We take it beyond just this. My back kind of hurts from the arm of the sofa, so we switch to him straddling me. I give him the adoration he craves, and he really gets turned on. We change positions again.

     A deep voice coming from the direction of the stairwell makes its way over to us. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

     I'm not concerned. I peep my eyes open and see it's one of the other models. I think his name is Eli.

     Pedro whispers to me, "Uh oh, Mike. I think we've been discovered." He doesn't act bothered either.

     I laugh quietly. This is great. Pedro keeps kissing my neck, and I can't help but feel like he's showing off. I let out another quiet laugh.

     Eli folds his arms and says, "Well, if you're going to give an exhibition, at least make it interesting to watch."

     Pedro chuckles and undoes my pants. I let out a tiny gasp when his hand starts servicing me. Both of them chuckle now.

     Pedro speaks, "Oh maker, Eli. Look at him. How can you still act so innocent, Michael?"

     I answer him. "Mmmm. I'm not. I just... like it." Hell no I'm not, but right now, I feel it. Our dynamic changed when Eli came downstairs.

     "Don't finish him. Yet."

     Pedro stops, and I let out an adorable whine. Then I laugh at myself.

     "Thought you weren't into guys, Eli." Pedro smiles at him wickedly.

     "I'm not. But this is fun. And I'm high."

     I look at him in wonder. "How can you be high and act so calm?"

     Both of them crack up laughing. Then we hear a couple of girls giggling as they come down the stairs. Pedro quickly pulls me up and shuffles me behind the short wall. Eli leans against the open archway, acting casual and also blocking us more from view.

     "Evening, ladies." He smiles.

     They giggle and go into the restroom. Meanwhile, Pedro's hand has gotten back to work.

      "Shh..." he whispers.

      I don't know why we feel like we have to hide, but I can't help but think it's fun.

      The ladies giggle at Eli again before going back upstairs.

      Pedro's hand expertly speeds up, and I clutch at him, panting. Occasionally, I'll open my eyes and see Eli calmly watching us, a slight smirk on his face. It's... a little unnerving, but at the same time, I like it. These guys are every bit as wild as I am.

      Pedro slows down and ignores my complaint. He whispers into my ear, "I want you."

      Eli, having heard him, pushes up from the wall. "Now that will be a show." He starts undoing the buttons on his vest.

      Pedro doesn't waste time.

     I take my turn being entertained as I watch a man who claims to be straight totally get off from watching two guys.

     Eli pants and looks at my smirk. "Oh, you think you're so cute."

     My smirk grows. "Yeah I do."

     "We'll see about that." He steps forward, grabs my dick, and finishes me like he'd not allowed Pedro to do earlier. I pant and rest my head on his shoulder while Pedro never stops. When I lift my head, Eli looks me in the eyes. I don't know what he sees, but whatever it is leads him to say, "Hell no, you're not innocent."

     "No, I'm not." I wonder if I'll shock him when I say, "And maybe we can share a woman sometime." It won't be Rochelle because she's started seeing someone else, and she says it's serious.

    "F--k," he whispers. Then he backs up and starts grabbing his clothes. "I think I've had enough of this today."

     I wink at him, and he shakes his head as he walks into the bathroom.

     "You done flirting with Eli?" Pedro asks.

     "Yeah."

     "Good." He pushes me up against the wall to our right and slowly takes his time. I think he's crying, but I don't turn my head to look. I wonder what his story is.

     Later, Pedro leaves, saying he needs to go home. The night is still young, so I decide to go to the dance floor again.

     Why am I always surprised?