British Bird - Complete

British Bird - Chapter Twenty Four

British Bird
Chapter Twenty Four
Sang

I've been staring at the ceiling of my room for the last two hours. Sleep won't come. I've tried, but I'm so lost in my thoughts, repeating the words Owen and Sean told me about Michelle over and over again in my head.

I've always liked Michelle, ever since she became my social worker when I was just a young girl. We got on and I thought we clicked. Most foster kids don't get on with their social workers, but I did, I have all these years. And now, I'm not sure what to believe.

I mean, it could just be coincidence that the money she's been receiving in her bank account started around the same time she became be my social worker.

But what if it's not? A voice whispers in my head.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, catch the scents and natural smells of the two guys that lay either side of me. After they had told me what they thought Michelle was up to, I had retired to my room. They gave me the space I quietly asked for; before coming to knock on my door a couple of hours later asking if they could sleep in here or if I wanted them in the living room.

I wanted them close, so I pulled back the quilt on either side of me and they got in. I had rolled onto my side, coming face to face with Sean who held my hands in his, our foreheads touching. Owen had wrapped an arm around my waist and shuffled in close to me, cocooning me between the two of them and holding me close.

I don't know at what point I had rolled onto my back to stare into the darkness of my room, a fear I had overcome since living in my flat, but I had and they just moved right with me. Sean now rests his head on my shoulder, arm over me just under my breasts, his legs tangled with mine. Owen's arm is still secure around my waist, his head a few inches away from mine, his deep even breaths whispering across the side of my face.

I don't think they're asleep. Actually, I'm positive they're awake as every now and then they'd both tighten their arms around me, silently telling me that they're there when I'm ready to talk.

But what can I say? What can I do? Michelle has always disapproved of my friendship with them and the love she later realised consumed me. So how would she react if I told her that they're here, in England, with me right now? A part of me wants to go and confront her but it's two in the morning and she has two children and a husband. I can't go disturbing her right now.

I guess I could do so tomorrow, but then again, maybe not because I am supposed to be working and she'll be at the office. I sigh. I feel so lost and confused, unsure of where to go from here.

"Sean?" I whisper, my voice a little croaky.

"Yeah, Pookie?"

My t-shirt has risen to just under my belly button. Calloused fingers belonging to Owen start moving in soothing circles across the open patch of skin. I tense at first, aware that he can feel the raised, jagged skin from my scars, but I eventually relax and sink back into the mattress as I say, "Do you think you could call the others here?" My question doesn't surprise me. I want them all close, even if it does mean waking them up, getting them to leave their warm beds, and go out into the cold. I want them here, with me, so I can savour every second that is left.

Sean presses a kiss to my shoulder over my t-shirt, "Sure, Pookie." His lips linger, and can feel the warmth and gentleness of them through the fabric of my t-shirt. He pulls away and I watch through the darkness as he picks up his phone and exits the room, leaving the door open slightly a jar, light from the hallway poking through.

"Are you okay?" Owen asks quietly, his fingers still moving lightly over my skin, the pattern he's making repeating over and over, and I wish I could focus enough on his gentle touch to realise what he's drawing on my skin.