Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 16

“GET YOUR ASS UP, we gotta go, C. Rise and fucking shine, sleeping beauty.” My brother yells from the other side of my bedroom door. I peel one eyelid open and check my phone. That jerk woke me an hour earlier than when we had to get up.

“Go away, asshole.” I’m not ready to get up yet. There’s no morning skate today and I wanted to just lay here for as long as possible before I have to face today. If I’m still asleep then it’s still last night. And last night, I was with her.

It was sweet torture. Ten whole minutes of beautiful torment. I couldn’t breathe while I was in her car for the short drive from the arena to home. I kept thinking about the only other time I was sitting in that passenger seat.

When she held my hand and kept me calm when I felt like my world was splitting apart. I don’t usually give up opportunities to stare and to get my fill of her. But I couldn’t do it. I knew I’d break.

I’d look over at her, we’d lock eyes, and I wouldn’t be able to stop that invisible thread from reeling me in. This time, if she touched me, I’d be anything but calm. My world would surely split open again. I’d be swallowed whole and I’d take her with me.

I felt her for hours after I fled her car. Her intoxicating scent stayed in my nostrils and her pretty voice echoed in my head. I felt high after a hit that strong. Every cell in my body was fucking buzzing.

I was hyper-aware of the devil basking in his post-Sloane daze and the angel patting me on the back for not reaching across the center console to pull her into my lap. I deserve a damn medal for showing so much damn restraint.

Just like I do now. My brother is being annoying as fuck and kicking my door over and over again. He’s gonna put his big foot right through it if he doesn’t stop.

“I’m about to kick this door down if you don’t get your ass up and into the shower. I swear I can smell you from here.” I roll my eyes at his bullshit. He won’t leave without me and I need just a few more minutes to keep the world at bay.

I stifle a yawn, throw the comforter over my head, and shut my eyes. I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep much last night after I ran up to my room and locked the damn door. No one was home for me to keep out. I was keeping myself locked in. I knew if I had given myself permission to leave, I would’ve run straight to her.

My stomach is growling and I curl into myself. I didn’t eat much yesterday. Before I passed out I found a sleeve of crackers and an old glass of orange juice that I must have left on my desk and ate that. I didn’t bother leaving the room. I ignored the constant text messages, calls, and knocks on my door.

“Fuck it, I’m coming in.”

“Great, first B and now you. Just come right in like it’s your room.” I mumble out thinking of my sister busting in here last Saturday before dragging me to that party. A rips my comforter off my head and ruins my cocoon. I swear, he’s the goddamn worst.

“You could let me sleep instead of waking me up an hour before we need to get up, you know,” I glare out at him. I just wanted to shut my eyes and relive the few minutes I had with her. Go over every second of being in that car. The heavenly hell of sitting next to the girl of my dreams.

“I don’t want to be late for Amy and I need to water and feed you. You’re looking skinny and you smell like shit still.” He says and dramatically crinkles his nose. He points his finger at me and scoffs, “And I’m burning that fucking sweatshirt when your ass is in the shower, there’s no saving it at this point.” Rude.

“Fine, I’m up, I’m up,” I tell him and stretch my arms over my head. I’m sore all over even though I didn’t play last night. I feel like I was hit by a car instead of sitting inside one. I begrudgingly grab a towel from a pile of laundry and sidestep my brother to get to the hallway. He lingers in my room and is looking over everything. “Don’t touch any of my stuff,” I remind him.

“Like there’s enough fucking time for me to hunt down a hazmat suit and a dumpster because that’s what it would take for me to touch any of the crap you have in there.” He’s being an ass and I flip him off while walking away. I’m about to shut the bathroom door when I hear him say,

“You want ham or turkey bacon on your egg and cheese sandwich?”

“Ham and hot sauce,” I tell him and he nods. I lock myself in the bathroom and take a long look at myself in the mirror. My skin is colorless, there are dark shadows underneath my eyes and my hair is shaggy looking. My face has thinned out and I look tired… on the inside and the outside. Maybe I do need some help.

It actually felt pretty good to shower and put on fresh clothes. I eat my breakfast as we walk the few blocks over.

My mind can’t focus on all the shit that’s happening today and before I know it, we’re in front of the shelter doors. I feel anxious as fuck. How am I supposed to get through a meeting with my new therapist and see Sloane tonight in the Winter Showcase?

I’m not the only one who’s anxious. A is like a live fucking wire rocking back and forth on his feet, picking at his sharpied pinky nail with his thumb and chewing on the string of his hoodie while we wait to be buzzed into the homeless shelter to report for our volunteer hours.

“You don’t know if she’s even here, so stop fidgeting so much. You’re freaking me out.” I point out while we wait. I press the button again and hear it buzz on the other side.

“I don’t give a flying fuck where she is,” A defensively huffs out. Yeah, okayyyyy.

“You’re a shitty liar. It’s okay to care about her, you know. You’re not gonna burst into flames or anything.” As soon as the words are outta my mouth I wish I could stuff them right back in and swallow them down.

“Right, because if you get together with Red, the world is gonna fucking end and our dear sister is going to what? Be happy for you? Oh, the fucking horror,” he says with a mock shock on his face.

“You know Amy doesn’t really allow anyone to be here during the day unless they have special privileges. I bet she has class so you’re over here freaking the fuck out for nothing,” I point out and ignore his barb about me and Sloane.

“I’m not freaking out over anything, mind your fucking business.” He’s so goddamn dramatic with his eye rolls. One of these days they’re gonna get stuck in his head.

“Yeah, because you’ve been minding yours, lately.” I swear I hear him say asshole under his breath but I don’t turn to face him. I can practically feel him glaring at me as it is.

It’s been a shit twenty-four hours and if anyone should be anxious standing here it’s me. I have to get through this shift before heading over to The Wellness Center for the meet and greet with my new therapist.

I have to sit through that and her attempt to unpack my shit. Although that may not be the most difficult thing I have to sit through today. Tonight’s the Winter Showcase and we’re all expected to be in attendance. My sister will rip off my fingernails if I don’t go.

We’re let in and make our way to Amy’s office to check in. There are only a few people hanging around between the hours of ten and four but still, I can’t help but wonder what brought them here. Standing here makes me feel dumb as fuck for thinking my life is complete shit when the residents of this place have no other place to go.

We’ve been helping out with weekly shifts split between here and the soup kitchen since November. Havenwood donates to both and since the tournament weekend, we’ve been scheduled at one of the two every week. I ask Amy where she needs us today and she hands over a list of tasks while handling a conference call.

A and I start in opposite rooms gathering garbage bags to take the trash out. I head over to the female wing, it’s one big room with several beds lined up against the walls. There’s no privacy, no amenities, and it feels sterile.

I’m standing a few feet into the open room when I see her. Her back’s to me, but I don’t need to see her face to know it’s her. Her long black hair sticks out from underneath a navy beanie hat and lays over her sweatshirt covered shoulders. Her overstuffed bags are propped up against a metal bed frame that she’s standing next to and she’s talking to a woman who is wearing scrub pants and has a nursing bag hanging off her shoulder. Edison.

I haven’t seen her since I watched paramedics shock her chest in an attempt to bring her back to life and held my brother back from losing his mind as we watched her fucking flatline.

Images flood my system and overload my senses as I feel transported to that horrific night. I can clearly see B bloody, unconscious, and hurt as she lay still in Max’s arms as he cradled her to his chest and rocked her back and forth.

I can see A covered in his math tutor”s blood holding a near-lifeless Edison who was almost unseen in the chaos.

I can hear Max screaming at the male first responders to stop touching my sister as he couldn’t bear to have anyone else near her.

I can taste the saltiness of my own tears from that night. Everything was crashing down around us and my emotional levy snapped under the weight of it all.

I can smell the metallic odor of blood that coated the room as it stained the walls, sheets, skin, hair, and carpet.

I swear I can feel Sloane in my arms. I held her when she fainted and daydreamed of her and I. She was my

escape from the real life nightmare. And when she came to and opened her eyes, I had no choice but to wake the fuck up, too.

“Hurry up in there. I want to start on that painting project.” He shouts out from the hallway. I don’t respond or warn him that he’s about to see her, too. I’m too lost in my head to get my words to work. It doesn’t matter, he’ll find out in three seconds when he walks in here. “What the hell?” There it is.

It’s like watching a live action movie in slow motion when Edison and the woman she’s talking to snap their heads toward us. And Edison looks fucking pissseeeddd when she sees A.

“?Vete a la mierda!”Edison yells out while stomping across the room. She’s walking so fast her beanie flies off her head. “Get the fuck out!” She’s got her eyes locked and loaded on my brother and her hands are balled up into fists. Oh shit.

“Nah, fuck that. Why won’t you answer my texts? You cost me a fucking game!” He shouts back without any hesitation.

“Sounds like a personal problem to me. Leave!” He stands completely still and just stares her down while she rams her pointer finger into his chest.

“I don’t need to do shit. I’m volunteering,” he tells her with glaring eyes that are fucking glowing. “Why the fuck are you ignoring me? You look fucking fine to me,” he demands and because I know him, I don’t miss the slight twitch of his lips when he scans her up and down. The bastard is trying not to smile.

“No sabes nada, cabron,”she says and crosses her arms over herself and clicks her tongue while rolling her eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean? Are you not okay or are you just being a sassy little shit?” Oh fuck.

“Don’t call me that, pendejo.”

“Then drop your attitude.”

“Will you just fucking leave already?”

“Not until you text me back.”

She pulls her phone out from her pocket and types away before repocketing it and stares at him. She smirks when my brother’s phone sounds off from inside his hoodie. He pulls it out without breaking their intense stare and holds his phone in his hand. These two are about to start a fucking fire.

“Go ahead, check it,” she taunts, almost smiling.

He takes the bait and his eyes dart down to his screen for a half a second before they return to her retreating back to the other side of the room. She goes back over to her bed to stand next to the woman who I assume is a nurse as she takes a blood pressure cuff out of her bag.

A doesn’t say a fucking word. He watches her sit down on the bed, doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she holds her arm out for her blood pressure to be taken, and then mutters, “Let’s get outta here,” when she flips him off as the nurse continues taking her vitals.

“What did she text you?” I ask him as we walk back out towards the common areas.

“She sent some shit to piss me off. Times she thinks I won’t commit to.”

“Why are you smiling then?” There’s this devious grin taking over his face. There’s a light flickering in his dull eyes that I haven’t seen in ages. It brightens him right up and he looks fucking wild right now.

“Because she thinks she fucking won. If she wants to meet me Friday and Saturday nights at 9PM then that’s what we’ll do.” He texts a response and sends it off. He doesn’t say another word about it as we walk outta the shelter, but he does check his phone every two fucking seconds for the entire walk back.

I couldn’t fucking take it anymore and spoke to my sister and the boys last night after our game. We needed a plan. My brother needs us more than fucking ever. I’ve been so caught up in my own shit I didn’t realize how depressed he was. The past week has been a fucking eye opener.

Now that I’m aware of what he’s been going through it’s all I see. He’s never been this irritable, this sad, this messy, or this self-destructive. It’s fucked up.

I knew I needed extra time this morning to get his ass ready and out the door. I threw in an extra egg and added some avocado when I made his breakfast. He’s lost fucking weight and I wanted him to have the extra protein and fats. He ate that bad boy in three bites.

As soon as I locked the door, I texted my sister and let her know we were good to go. She’s gonna work on cleaning his room and taking care of his nasty ass laundry. Max and Drew will help with the garbage and stuff. He can’t fucking live in there like that anymore. I wasn’t kidding about the hazmat suits. I told B to wear those rubber gloves that go up to your elbows to tackle that fucking disaster.

Monroe and Jake are gonna meet him over at the Wellness Center for therapy to make sure his ass goes. Coach is giving him a lifeline and he needs to take it.

I know my brother, he fucking loves hockey even if he’s lost his way right now. I’m not about to watch him throw away his life and all he’s worked for. Not a fucking chance.

Neither is B. Our brother’s mental health struggles have given her and I something to talk about. I’m not ready to get into it all yet, but I’m managing my shit in my own way. Or at least I thought I was. Then I fucking saw Edison.

I’ve texted her a hundred fucking times and she hasn’t responded. Not one goddamn time.

She’s fucking with my hockey eligibility and I can’t let her do that. Fuck that and fuck her. All that goddamn sass and attitude. She thinks she’s won some fucking game. She read my texts, but didn’t respond just to fuck with me. Well mission fucking accomplished because I feel like I’m on fucking fire.

My body’s burning from the inside out when we walk outta the shelter. It’s been fucking weeks since I saw her and every fucking cell in my body remembers what it’s like to be near her. It’s like some weird muscle memory or something. Whatever feeling this is, it’s boiling up inside of me like fucking lava whenever I see her.

She’s one big fucking memory trigger for me and it pisses me off. It feels a lot like rage. She could’ve fucking died. I’m hit with too many goddamn thoughts. All these fucking feelings. It’s all too fucking emotional for me to handle. I just want it to go away.

I’ve been fucking mad at her since that night. I know I should be grateful that she got herself involved but that’s what makes me fucking angry. She put herself in harms way and got fucking hurt.

Then she put me in the fucking position to feel all these fucking things for her in the middle of an absolute clusterfuck of shit that was happening at the same fucking time. It’s been a fucking lot and now I can’t stop thinking about it.

I have no fucking idea how I stood there and watched those paramedics work on her like they did. All those needles and tubes. And then I heard it. That fucking flatline. I was close enough to hear her heart fucking stop.

I couldn’t leave her when they shocked her back to life. I swear they weren’t just jump starting her heart, they were shocking mine too. I felt every jolt in my chest when her body snapped like a rubber band in response to those fucking paddles.

I can’t stomach it. I can’t process it. When a lingering thought or a flashback gets stuck in my head I either punch something or find myself sitting in a tattoo chair. I went from one tattoo to having a full fucking sleeve.

The buzzing noise from the tattoo gun drowns out the noise in my head and the constant needling into my skin numbs the chronic pain.

It’s too much for me to relive; my sister attacked and unconscious and my tutor broken and bloody. All because of me. Standing in front of Edison makes it all too real again. I’ve barely been able to keep my shit together in front of my sister.

She almost slipped away. Her fucking heart stopped three times that night and each time, they brought her back. Brought her back to what though? To her living in a fucking homeless shelter? To her living in a state of starvation that has left her weak? To her having to deal with fucking assholes like me and the other jerkoffs that she tutors for a measly income as she pushes herself through her own classes and coursework?

I’m wondering if anyone has ever given her a second glance or if she’s been overlooked her whole life. I’ve pieced together that she’s had to crawl out of shitty conditions only to be met with new ones here at school. I doubt there are many scholarship students living in fucking homeless shelters and rationing out meals. I can’t believe this is her fucking life.

My sister ripped me a new asshole when she told me that my absences and tardiness to tutoring had cost Edison the ability to feed herself. She was fucking suffering because of me. The way I fucking hate myself for that has me scratching my skin until its raw and red.

The constant gnawing itch that burns over my skin hasn’t let up in fucking weeks. It’s like every single bad choice and fucked up decision I’ve ever made are little bugs crawling all over me.

Watching that nurse take her vitals was too fucking much. Hearing from my sister that she’s still recovering and then seeing it has me hell-bent on doing shit right this semester. I’ve texted her to get the schedule and make sure she knows I’m serious.

She was so pissed at one point when we were going back and forth ,I swear to God she was hissing at me. She reminded me of a little black cat. It fits. She’s got that tight little body, the long black hair, dark eyes, and fucking attitude. Cats also don’t like to be fucked with and don’t trust easily. She’s definitely a feisty little kitten.

A kitten whose blood stained more than my skin. It’s like she bled into me and seeped into my soul that night.

I hate myself for almost not seeing her, for coming way too close to leaving her to die. I hate her for almost doing that too. I hate myself for not picking up her phone call when she had the goddamn brass balls to go follow that cunt whore Lexi and those shit stains Waterstone and Ellis back to my sister’s dorm.

I hate her for making me fucking worry about her every minute of every day since I heard her plea for me to “just get here.” I hate myself for feeling something for her. I hate that I hate her and I hate that I don’t.

When I separate from my brother and get myself to class I still can’t fucking shake her. It’s because she’s in my fucking blood. I text my tattoo guy to see if he has any openings today. I need that fucking needle to push more of my story into my skin. I need that tattoo gun to numb the fucking unbearable pain.

He asks me what I’m thinking this time and I don’t waste a damn second texting him back. I know exactly what I fucking want.

ME:

I want a fucking pissed off black kitten hissing with her claws out

ALVI:

Fucking random but okay. See you at 1AM

ME:

Bet