You Won't Feel A Thing - (The Script Fanfic)

Chapter 33

Nobody entered my room after Chantel left. I heard voices from the living room, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. You can't hide from them. I sighed, getting out of bed. Looking in the mirror, I saw my eyes were a little blotchy. The cut on the side of seemed to attract all eyes as it made a grand appearance. Sighing at my reflection, I flattened my hair a little with my hands, trying to cover the cut. What can I say? It didn't work. Regretfully, I dragged myself out of my bedroom and into the living room.

Chantel was perched on the couch, the TV on. Mark was sat beside her (not beside her as in beside her, just because it was there or the floor), texting on his phone. Glen was leaning against the wall, flexing his knuckles. Glen looked up first, smiling at me. "Hey."

Chantel turned to see what he was looking at. "She's alive!" She faked shock and covered her mouth with her hands. Mark turned around too.

"Hilarious." I walked in further, looking back over at Glen. Watching me carefully, he slid his hands into his pockets. Mark walked over to me and ruffled my hair with his hand.

"Feeling better, kiddo?" He asked, walking into the kitchen, an empty glass in his hand.

"Sure." I joined Chantel on the couch. I took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around myself. The fabric was soft and instantly embraced me with heat.

"Glen punched him in the face for you." Chantel whispered to me.

"Good." I whispered back. I looked up at Glen. He hand his hands out of his pockets again, flexing his right hand. Without raising his gaze, he walked to join Mark in the kitchen.

"I still can't believe you're dating the Glen Power." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Let's say that his last name is definitely suited for the bedroom." Chantel began giggling, and I followed suit.

"Who's what is suited for where?" Mark asked, walking back into the room with his glass filled with water. Well, I assumed it was water. For all I knew, it could be vodka.

I continued to giggle. "Doesn't matter." Chantel called out. 

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by his phone's ringtone. He pulled it out of his pocket, holding it next to his ear. "Hello?" He asked. He walked back into the kitchen, talking quietly down the line. It didn't seem secretive, just...private.

I decided it was best not to pry into other people's business. I turned back to Chantel who was staring at the side of my head intently, right where it ached.

"You never said how you got that." She looked genuinely concerned.

I shrugged. "I don't know exact details." Everything about the van experience was just a confused mess. There were some facts that were prominent (like the person who had pulled me out, the reason I was in there in the first place), but other details were swallowed by a cloud of amnesia. "I just remember that my head was fine before I was drugged, but it was cut open when I reached the hospital. I'm assuming it happened before I reached the police station."

Chantel watched me carefully, perhaps deciding whether I was hiding something or not. She must have decided not as she smiled warmly at me. "At least you're healing."

"Slowly, but yes." I smiled back at her.

Glen entered the room again, his arms folded across his chest loosely. His eyes met mine, their blue iris glimmering in the light of the room. His shoulders hung loosely as he walked over and sat himself on the armrest next to me. He seemed so relaxed, yet the way his jaw was set told me differently.

"What's wrong?" My voice was gentle as I placed my hand onto his right forearm.

He looked down at my hand. The corners of his mouth worked their way up slightly. "I promised you that everything would be okay." He rested his left hand over mine. "How fucking wrong was I?"

Wordlessly, Chantel got up to retreat to the kitchen. At least she respected our privacy. "It will be." I said, only I didn't sound too sure.

"Yeah, and when will that start? Because it sure is taking its time." He sighed, brushing his thumb over my knuckles tenderly. "You're getting hurt more and more."

"I'm handling it." My voice came out slightly choked. I cleared my throat and repeated myself. The way Glen was speaking was different to how he'd spoken before. He'd always been full of optimism. Now, he was full of dead ends. Somehow, it broke my heart.

"For fuck's sake, even Dan hurt you. I really thought everything would blow over. Even when we were locked inside the concert hall, I thought it would be alright. But it's not. And I'm sorry, Teghan. I really am." His voice was sounding more and more defeated. "Hell, I even broke my best friend's nose."

"Dylan's playing us." I said, unsure of what I was saying until the words had left my lips. "He knows we're paranoid. He knows we're turning on each other. He wants us to feel defeated to make his job easier." Glen met my eyes again. "Maybe we won't be okay for a while, but that's no reason to give up." I sighed. I doubt if I would change Glen's mind, let alone my deep sense of negative thoughts. To change the subject, I took Glen's right hand in mine, inspecting his knuckles. They were cut and had obviously been bleeding. They were darkening too. "They're going to bruise." I rose to my feet, tugging slightly on Glen's arm to get him to stand. He could easily stay seated, but he allowed me to lead him into the kitchen.

Opening up the medicine cupboard, I pulled out the first aid kit. I cleaned his knuckles first under the tap. I saw Glen looking at me from the corner of my eye, but I continued to focus on his hand. I dabbed away the water from his hand with a cloth. He winced slightly as I went over the splits in his skin, but he remained still. Wrapping the bandage around his hand was a lot harder than it looked. In the movies, they wrap it perfectly and in record time, too. It took me at least three tries to reach a satisfactory standard, and it was nowhere near record time. After I had done, I let him take back his hand.

I looked up at him. "Did you really break his nose?" Guiltily, he nodded. "Good." Somehow, it made me feel at least a little bit better.