Deception (Michael Clifford)

Twenty Two

"Come."
Ashton directs at me. Just behind him, my eyes are locked on the broad figure of Michael, his vibrant red hair knotted and messy, standing deadly still and staring at me through the darkness. He looks so confused.
I try and process in my mind what has just happened.
The boy has been missing since last night, he hasn't contacted anyone, and the last I saw of him was when he 'dropped' me back off at the hotel.
I watch nervously as Ash carries him off down the narrow alley, Michael stares at me with wide eyes as he passes.

When I found him in the club, it was as if he was in a trance. I tried asking him where he's been, what he's doing here, but all he replied with was, 'Stay away from me.'
Then just like that, I grab his arm and he snaps out of it, looking around wildly like he's completely lost. I've never seen someone's eyes open so wide, he looked petrified.
But then he said something that confused me, I tried approaching him, to calm him down, he backed away fearfully and said, 'Forgive me.'
I watch him now as he staggers along in front of me, supported by Ashton on his right. From the back, he looks the same as he always does, hostile and mysterious, except for the slight limp in his gate.
I can't understand what has got him so worked up, although when I think back to last night, as we rode up the elevator, he did seem... off. I tried coaxing him out, but he had his head down, eyes unblinking, talking as if on autopilot...
Maybe I should tell Ashton what happened last night, it could have something to do with this.
No.
I can't, what would he think of me if he knew I let Michael go back out on his own in a state like that?

I watch him now as he shuffles along, his head bows, tilting unnaturally, I frown.
Is he okay?
Then without warning his legs suddenly fall out from underneath him and he is sent crashing to the ground.
I gasp in shock and rush forward.
Ashton catches him just in time to save his head from hitting the pavement, but the rest of him is sprawled out across the floor, legs tangled with his black combat boots.
"What happened?" I ask Ashton, leaning down by his side. He pushes the fringe out of his friends eyes.
"I'm not sure," he replies quickly, voice thick with concern, "Michael? Michael can you hear me?" He gets no response from the boy, but notices the rise and fall of his chest.
I hear him sigh, "it's been a while since I've seen him like this."
I look over the fallen boy, his leather jacket snagged and torn in places, his black jeans, scuffed and dirty. The cuts and bruises on his hands...
"He's been like this before..." I couldn't help but wonder out loud.
"A long time ago," Ashton replies, pulling the phone out of the boys pocket, noting that it's dead before placing it back, "I had a feeling this would happen, it was just a matter of time."
I look at Ashton. What's that supposed to mean? But keep the thought to myself.
He pulls out his own phone and proceeds to dial, "Dave? Get the driver, I've found him."
The call ends abruptly and he turns his attention back to Michael. Who's out cold on the pavement.
My heart races with panic, what's happening to him? Is he going to be okay?
"Here, help me pick him up would you, we need to get him out of the alley."
Without another word Ashton pries the boy off the pavement, lifting him up enough to get an arm around his back.
I follow Ashton's lead and copy him, moving to the other side and placing Michael's arm around my shoulder. Hairs along the back of my neck rise, but I push away the uneasiness, he needs my help.

With our combined effort, we manage to get Michael to his feet. I'm surprised by the weight, he's heavier than I expected. Although I am considerably shorter than him, and he isn't helping by not moving his legs.
Uneasily, I wrap my other arm around his back, and we make slow progress towards the end of the alley. No conversation passes between me and Ashton, but I can't help but steal a glance at Michael.
His head hangs off his shoulders, drooped down to his chest, wisps of crimson hair drift across his eyes, which are closed now, making him appear asleep. He looks so peaceful, compared to what he looked like only moments before.
I feel a pang of sympathy for him, but I'm not sure why.
I think back to only the night before, when I was the one in trouble, and he came charging in to help. If he wasn't there, who knows where I could have ended up. He guided me safely back to the hotel.
Where did he go?