Maverick

Chapter 25

The sirens never stopped. 

The days that followed were possibly the worst kind of torture that anyone could ever put me through. It was like I wasn't human anymore; I couldn't feel anything. My blood had stopped moving around my veins, my organs felt pale and grey and oxygen-starved. They had no need to work. I didn't need them anymore. Every time I breathed it hurt.

Dad didn't understand.

Everyday he would knock on my door; place some food, a glass of water, a novel and the house phone on my desk. The pile of plates grew larger, the food slopping off onto the table. The cups of water endless. The books unread. The phone unused. My routine now purely consisted of sleep, or rather the lack of it. It was as if images of what happened that Friday night at the barbecue were on a constant replay through my mind; unrelenting, ceaseless. I would have better luck sleeping if someone was forcing my eyes open while pouring chlorine straight into them. 

My chest ached. I had spent two weeks lying in bed, my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach, telling myself that I was fine, that I wasn't going to fall apart. But, that's as sure as hell what it felt like. It was as if everything I knew had turned to dust. I had disregarded all the lies, furiously ignored the demons threatening to tear my life apart, only to find that there was no truth; the demons were, in fact, those who were closest to me. The worst thing was, I hadn't even seen it coming. I hadn't heeded Maverick's warnings. Ignored the jitters and knowing glances at the party. Mistook Ezra's behaviour for friendship, intimacy. Trust.

Trust. That irrelevant word. All the trust that had existed previously between Isaac and I had vanished just as quickly as Isaac's blood as the pure, white sand sucked it up, greedily. Every time I remembered the ferocity of his kiss, the pressure of his lips on mine, I couldn't help thinking a revolting, disgusting thought that lingered in my mind ever since the kiss had taken place. I'd rather it was Oscar. I'd rather it was Oscar. I'd rather it was him.

"Reece."

The familiar knock. The unnecessary announcement of my name, just to check that I was still alive. The absurdity of it. I buried deeper into the mountain that was my duvet, my dad's voice now distant, and muffled. My bedroom door creaked open, the beads of my dreamcatchers clinking delicately against the driftwood. I sneaked a look at my watch. Quarter past one. Dad would be on his way to work. I craved the quiet. The peace.

"Honey." When I didn't reply, he sighed. "Love. It's been two weeks. Please, just say something to me."

Another silence. The chink of china against china as Dad began to stack up the untouched plates, the thump of books as he re-arranged my desk, biding his time. Waiting to tell me something. My skin began to crawl.

Ezra.

Something had happened to Ezra.

"I need to tell you something, Reece."

So this was it. The moment. The moment where duty and loyalty told me I would have to feel guilty about hating what Ezra did to me. But I didn't. I couldn't.

"It's that guy. Your... boyfriend."

I bolted up in bed. Stared at my dad, as if the words that had just come out of his mouth were a lie, an allusion. But they weren't.

"Maverick?"

My dad shuffled on his fete, uncomfortable. He rubbed his head with the back of his hand. Clearly, he was upset at the fact that I would get up for my boyfriend, and not for him. Sure, my dad was sympathetic. But Maverick understood. He gave me a brief, fleeting smile. "Sure. Him. Should I send him up?"

I nodded. Tried to smooth my hair into a respectable amount of 'untidy'. At the moment it was an illegal amount. Dad looked over at me, somewhat sadly. "I wouldn't worry," he said. "He doesn't look so great either." Dad turned towards the door. "Looks like neither of you have slept well recently."