They Call Me Daring

Chapter 43

I didn't wake up. At least, it wasn't your normal definition of 'waking up'. I kind of just... existed.
I had no idea how much time had passed by the time I finally found my eyes open. I was surprised I was still alive, to a point. Much more, that I was still human.
It took me quite a while to realize where I was, because everything had faded to my dimmest memories. I blinked, still unable to move my limbs. Everything was dark, and for quite a while I simply accepted I had gone blind, or, even better, dead. Maybe Liam Trackerson had died a long time ago, and I had just been floating forever in memories...
Nope, I wasn't dead. Because Jess wouldn't be in my heaven.
It was he that first found me. I was in front of Trackerson mansion, tied by my wrists to the gate, my feet dangling over a foot off the ground. I assumed it must have been the early hours of the next morning, then.
Jess's scream stung through the biting cold air, and I moved my eyes to look up at his window, where he was staring, with a horror-movie expression out his window. Looking at his dead brother.
"Dead".
He disappeared from the window, and my eyes dropped back down to the ground. I wasn't able to move my head. I could just twitch my fingers slightly, but had no feeling in my legs. I was able to suck in air, and that was the extent of my liveliness.
My best guess; even though I had nearly recovered from the euthanasia in the truck, once they had knocked me out, I had stopped fighting back, and the poison had surged again, nearly completing it's work. I was as good as dead.
Strangely, that didn't bother me. I didn't feel the pain in my wrists, barely felt the ropes holding them there, the strain in my arms. I couldn't even blink. I just stared aimlessly at the the waving, yellow grass as the sun rose behind me. My shadow sharpened on the ground, a dangling form on stripes of gate.
Some time passed. Probably not much- less than a minute, at least. I heard faint sounds from within the house. I could only stare.
Footsteps, running. A tall figure emerged from the house, shaking his head at Jess. My father glanced up at the fence without conviction, if only to humor his son so he could get back to sleep. He looked back down to Jess- then stopped, realizing he had seen something on the fence, though his tired mind took a while to process it.
He stood dumbstruck in front of the doorway, staring at the figure dangling on the gate with absolute, entire horror etched on every line of his aging face. He screamed.
I could only stare.
He collapsed on the ground, kneeling in the dirt and the fresh morning dew gathered on the grass, staring at me as aimlessly, blankly, as I was returning the look. His gaze wandered to something behind me, something which I couldn't see, and his mouth formed words.
Slowly, others began to emerge from the house, drawn out by the scream. People I vaguely recognized. People I knew well. They all stopped in their tracks and stared at the body on the gate. I stared back, though with much less gasping involved.
I saw Clark duck under the doorway and stand on the steps, running a hair through tousled hair- he looked around for the source of the commotion, and I saw his the color drain from his face as his eyes landed on my lifeless body. He crumpled on the spot, next to my father- holding the same expression- and Jess, who didn't seem to understand what was going on.
"Why is he sleeping there!" He screamed in the silence of horror. I moved my eyes slightly, focused on him and the other mortified people, sadly shaking their heads at me. Apparently they'd expected this. I had gotten in over my head... They knew that. I'd had a good run. Not really.
I saw Maggie emerge, along with a few other people I saw at the meeting last night. Uncontrollable rage surged through my immobile body at the sight of their faces, and I almost shouted out. Instead, I forced my body to channel the energy into my faintly beating heart. Blood needed to get to my body. To my head. I needed to move. Rip away these ridiculous ropes and show them it would take a lot more than that to kill me.
Last came Meg. I saw her step forward ashamedly on the steps, and lift her head to look at me with horror. I wanted, at that moment, to run to her. To hug her. Hold her. Tell her it was okay. I was okay. But I couldn't speak yet. I literally couldn't.
She shook her head at her mother, threw up off the side of the steps, and ran back inside. But not before the tears started coming, and not before I saw them sparkling on her face.
I moved my tongue inside my mouth. That was good. My toes and fingers tingled as feeling dripped back into them, as my heart beat steadier and faster, as blood brought me back to life. Slowly. Meticulously.
Over and over, one phrase was repeated, murmured by shaky voices on the cool morning air. He was one of them.
I assumed it must be written on a building, or car, behind me, because that was where they all looked as their lips formed the words. Minutes passed, and still, I could do little more than watch as everything happened.
"LIAM!" My father screamed after a moment. His scream tore at the air like claws. He bolted forward from the gathering mob, sprinting across the lawn. He ran forward at me, tears staining his face, the skin around his eyes red and all the color drained from his face. Clark was at his heels, and Jess stumbled along behind.
My family.
"NOOO!" Dad roared as he got closer. He slowed and reached forward for me, the tears in all their eyes vivid as they got closer, tearing at my heart.
"I wouldn't do that it I were you." I heard the low growl behind me, just before Dad could get to me- the cocking of a gun cut through the air.