Chapter Twenty-Three

*Not edited*Not proofread*

Chapter 23– Petty little fuck:

He doesn't yell, he doesn't shout, he doesn't scream. In fact, he doesn't even speak to me when he comes back hours later. He checks on my arm that I was able to stitch up— albeit messily— and then he gets in the shower and locks himself in his room.

I had been dreading the moment he would come through the door, hot-headed and raging. I was awaiting his angry rant and unnecessarily long lecture, accompanied with loud shouts and endless curses. I had expected him to kick off and scold me like he usually does, his anger getting the better of him like I've seen on many occasions— especially when it comes to me.

But what I had been expecting doesn't happen and I'm not sure whether to be grateful or worried that Jace acts completely out of character and barely pays me or my previous actions any mind. Even though he was calmer than I thought he would've been when he turned up at the park, he was still angry, so I just put his calm and collected demeanour down to the fact we were in a public place and he was just being cautious, holding off until we got back to my— our, now— rented house.

But apparently not.

I debate going into his room and asking him to yell at me just so I can get rid of the unease I feel. I'd much rather his anger than his disappointment.

Jace is overbearing and annoying, he talks too much and always tries to teach me right from wrong in attempt to make me a better person— not because he wants me to change for him, but because he wants me to change for me. He always sings out of tune and he never, never, re-wraps the bread properly or closes the cereal box. He drives me fucking insane and his presence can be suffocating. He smiles too much and his laugh is way too loud. He's always making jokes and he can't sit the fuck still for more than a few minutes, and even that's a push.

But he's Jace. He's my Jace.

There isn't much of my life that I can remember that Jace wasn't a part of. He took me under his wing and he looked out for me the best he could given the situation he was in. I never needed his help, never asked for it, but he gave it to me anyway. He risked his life for me, abandoned everything he'd ever known, and despite my treatment towards him, he still continues to help me and guide me at every turn. He offers me advice and puts up with the shit I bring and all the trouble I cause. He bandages my wounds, he stays with me when I wake up from a particularly bad dream, and he keeps me safe.

So I don't want him to be disappointed. I want him to be mad at me and I want him to shout so loud he wakes up that silly puta next door and hopefully gives her the heart-attack that is more than overdue.

I don't want him to dismiss me. To give up.

I hate him, but I don't think I'd be able to survive without him. Wouldn't fucking want to.

But he doesn't come out of his room all night, and I'm left to dwell on everything that's happened alone as I lay on the roof and stare up at the stars that I so badly detest. There's no one to talk to about it, not that I would want to talk to anyone, so instead I have to keep the thoughts inside my head, and paired with the voices already there, loud and aggressive, I feel overwhelmed with the chaos going on inside my mind.

I've never been one to talk to myself. I think it's fucking weird and people who do it are crazier than I am. At least when I talk to people that aren't really there, it's because there's clearly something wrong mentally, like a loose wire or some shit. But people who talk to themselves, and I've met many, are literally talking to no one. Nothing. Not a figment of their imagination, not something there brain has produced. Nadie. They ask themselves questions and they answer it themselves.

Fucking weird.

Therefore, I choose not to do it. I don't need another reason to prove that I actually am insane. Also, it's hard to talk to just myself when I have unwanted occupants in my mind talking shit twenty-four-seven.

But, on the other hand, I find saying my thoughts out loud takes the pressure off my mind and makes it less... crowded, in a sense.

So, that's why when Nine turns up laying upside down next to me, I engage in the conversation she starts and, even though she's not real and she's only a figment of my fucked imagination, I remind myself this is different than talking to myself.

"So... how was it?" She asks me, drumming her fingers against the tiles in an overly annoying way. I hate people that fidget.

"How was what?" I question back, not bothering to look at her as I keep my eyes trained on one particularly bright star. As much as we learned about science in the facility, we never learned about the space and what goes beyond our world.

Nine snorts, "That little kiss you shared with Dakota. What else?"

I roll my eyes, my jaw clenching briefly as I bite down on my teeth. "Well, seeing as I physically threw up once I got in, I'd say it wasn't that great."

"That's just because you've got a thing about human contact," she tells me in a matter-of-fact tone. "That has nothing to do with Dakota and the kiss."

"How the fuck would you know?" I grunt with clear distaste, not happy that she keeps talking like she knows everything.

"I am literally part of your brain," she explains, probably rolling her eyes based on the tone of her voice. "I live inside your head, with your thoughts. I know things."

"If that was true you wouldn't be this annoying."

She huffs. "Whatever. What are you going to do about Dakota?"

I shrug, turning my head and looking down so I can see her properly— as properly as I can considering she's laying upside-down. "Fuck all."

"Did you miss the part where he said he was done with you? Or did you just choose to ignore it?"

"Dakota's overbearing and seems to have this intense urge to annoy me and ruin my life, I don't think he actually meant it."

"And if he did?"

"He didn't."

"But if he did...?"

"But he didn't."

"Really, Harlow? Just answer the question— for arguments sake."

I sigh, "I don't know what you want me to tell you. If he's done then he's done... but he's not."

"You're impossible," she breathes in frustration, her voice quiet before speaking up more. "Would you not be like, I don't know... sad?"

"Gross."

"You know what I mean, One. What about all the tutoring? What about his fights?"

"What about them?" I ask her, my eyes trailing to her feet that rest beside me as I become distracted, once again, with her appearance. Her bones are protruding, especially the one at her ankle, and she has the scars from where the chains used to rub away at her skin, the flesh rotting. I feel slightly nauseas at the sight, so I look away and go back to the stars.

"Well, would you be okay if they were to stop?"

I shake my head. "He's said many times that the tutoring won't stop unless I say so. And I doubt his fights will stop just because he's being a bitch and doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

"Sorry, let me be more clear," she says sarcastically. "I didn't mean would he stop going to them, I meant would you?" She lifts herself up so she's resting on her elbows, and I draw my gaze to her, watching as she raises a bloody eyebrow. "Will you stop helping him?"

"I'm not helping him."

Her head tilts. "No? So then what would you call it?"

I shrug. "Keeping my enemies close?"

"Oh, so he's your enemy now?"

"Well we're not friends, so if the shoe fits."

"Okay, so by helping him out and probably saving his life, that's you keeping your enemy close?" She repeats back in a question. "Isn't that maybe a little too close?"

"How 'bout mind your own business? I know what I'm doing, Nine," I breathe, sick and tired of her questions.

She throws her hands up in a surrender motion, and if she wasn't just a figure my imagination had conjured up, she probably would've slid right off the roof. "Alright, fine, I was just saying."

"Well don't just say," I snap half-heartedly.

"Fine. How's Jace?"

I huff, annoyed at her persistent questioning but relieved for the topic change. "Still mad," I tell her vaguely but truthfully. I don't know much about what he's feeling and I can only guess what it is he's thinking, but I know for a fact he is most definitely mad.

"What are you going to do about the guard?"

"Nothing I can do. It's not like there's an address for hell for me to send him letters."

I hear her grunt as she lays back down. "I didn't mean like that. I meant overall. He wasn't the only one," she reminds.

I release a heavy breath as I throw my uninjured arm over my eye, blocking out the light from the moon. Nine has a point— a very good point. There isn't only one guard... Well, there is now, but there wasn't. There were two; one is currently dead, and the other is currently not dead. That being because I didn't get the chance to kill him. For some reason, he didn't tag along with the now-dead guard, and there can only be a few reasons as to why.

He either wasn't informed of his friend's plans, or he was and didn't agree with it so he stayed behind.

Both options would suit my just fine. Not only does it mean less drama, but it also means I can get answers from the other guard without him being too much of a threat. Unless the final reason he wasn't present is because both men planned the whole thing together and he stayed out of tonight's events in case something went wrong— then he was on the other end to finish off what the first guard couldn't.

But then again, we were never trained that way. We were trained to be smart, but also practical; our plans solid and well thought-out. Going in alone when he didn't have all the facts about me clearly wasn't smart at all, and his movements and deranged demeanour was not practiced. For that reason alone I doubt the other guard was in on his little stunt, but I know one can never be too cautious. So right now I need to be more careful and alert than I normally am.

"I don't know what's going to happen, and right now I'd rather not talk about it," I tell Nine after a few quiet moments, knowing she was still waiting for an answer.

She drops the topic after that, not bothering to ask any more questions about the guards and what happened tonight. For a few peaceful minutes, we remain silent, staring up at the stars and watching as the odd plane goes by in the sky or a small bat makes its way over the houses in the distance.

My eyes almost begin to close at the calmness, despite the odd noise from a faraway car or a dog barking. It isn't until Nine catches my attention by calling my name that I wake my mind back up and look around in alert.

I huff out in annoyance as I drop my head back down. "What?" I ask harshly, even though her voice remains quiet and timid, reluctant almost.

I don't see her as she talks, just listen as I close my eyes once again, though the fatigue isn't there anymore thanks to her. "Do you regret coming here?" She questions in a tone that's only slightly above a whisper. I lick my lips as my eyebrows scrunch up, confused. "Like, if you knew what would happen before coming here, would you still have come?"

I think it over for a few moments, the word 'no' on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn't make its way passed my lips as fast as I would've thought. "No, probably not..." I trail off. "But that doesn't mean I regret it."

"No?"

I shake my head, "No."

"Why?"

"I thought you said you were apart of me? You were in my head?" I retort. "Shouldn't you know this already?"

I hear her sigh sadly. "Yeah, but I still don't understand. You've got— what?— a few more years?"

"Something like that," I offer vaguely to her question.

"Shouldn't you be spending those years... living? And by that, I mean living freely. No drama, no responsibilities, no worries."

My teeth grind together at her prying, her questioning, her constant need to talk about things I don't want to talk about. I ball my hands into fists at my side, my fingers twitching to snap someone's neck. That had always been my favourite way to kill someone. I'm not sure if it was the satisfying crack of the bones breaking, or the pride that I was always able to get close enough to them that I could kill them in such a personal way.

Maybe it was a bit off both.

Relaxing my shoulders, I breathe out a steady breath, trying to calm down the irritation as I pull myself up to my feet.

"You're right..." I tell Nine as I dust myself off, my voice levelled. I peer over to where she lays, once again resting up on her elbows, her bruised, beaten faced glancing up at me in curiosity. The same face I remember from all those years ago. "You really don't understand."

___

Monday comes around, and as much as I wanted to avoid school, I couldn't. My first couple of classes go by boringly slow, but by the time lunch rolls around, I begin to wish I could go back and make them go by even slower.

"So is no one going to address the elephant in the room?" Zeke pipes up, ketchup smeared on the corner of his bottom lip.

"You noticed it, too?" Gray asks from where he sits next to me, although there's an empty seat between us. He still hasn't gotten over the broken nose he received, and I still don't like him, so... "I thought it was just me who had noticed she'd put on a tonne of weight. Not that I'm judging, you know? Just an observation."

"What are you even on about?" Landon furrows his eyebrows, wiping his hands from the salt that came off his fries. We haven't really spoken recently, and honestly, I've been trying to avoid talking to him. I have no clue what to tell him about Ricky or Dakota for that matter, and I can't be bothered to speak about it.

"Clearly not the same thing Zeke's on about..." he slowly trails off, clearing his throat before taking a sip of his water.

Freckles does nothing but roll his eyes. "Anyway... The elephant I was talking about, Gray, wasn't Kathy and her extra three stone, but Dakota ditching us to sit back with the football team."

"Oh right, yeah. I noticed that."

My ears perk up at the mention of Kota's name and I decide to pay a little more attention as I swirl a small fry in the little blob of mayonnaise that sits on a piece of ripped off cardboard from the box they're in.

"Well, what's that about?" Zeke continues to pry as he leans forward opposite Gray, eyeing the boy like he has all the answers. Gray shrugs his shoulders, not seeming all too concerned at Dakota's change of seating plans. "You two tell each other everything. How do you not know?"

"You say that like you're not friends with him as well," Gray scoffs.

"You know what I mean. You two have known each other longer, you've always been closer, like Landon and me are."

"Offensive," Gray murmurs, though he doesn't sound all that offended. "But you're thinking too much into this. You know Dakota used to be friends with all them, so what if he wants to sit with them for one day? What are you? His mom?"

Zeke huffs, "I'm not thinking too much into this, something's wrong. Just watch."

And Zeke is right.

As the week goes on, Dakota doesn't sit at the same circular table that he usually sits at with all of his friends. The table consists of Zeke, Landon and Gray, when he's not keeping Lilah company, and myself, when I'm not ditching my classes or purposely avoiding the cafeteria. The annoying ginger has yet to make an appearance at school and Dakota sticks with the football team for the remainder of the week, not once acknowledging the old table he used to occupy.

I would have thought he was avoiding everyone at the table had he not been conversing with them during lessons and outside of school.

The only person he's avoiding, is me.

Petty little fuck.

I don't dwell on the change between Dakota and me, though, and I don't bother to approach him about it either, seeing as I don't give a single fuck— don't have the time to.

For the first few days of the week I'm busy at work, the garage much busier than usual, although I'm not sure why. Also, with going to the gym and working on my aim down at the shooting range— though it's perfect, so I don't really need to— I don't have any time to myself to just breathe.

As the days go by, Lilah still continues to call but I never answer the phone, nor do I accept to talk to her when Jace tries to give me his phone once he's done speaking to the little redhead. Landon also tries to speak to me throughout the week about Ricky, asking if I've heard from him since that minor kidnapping incident, but I dodge all his questions and avoid answering them. Gray and I continue to bicker back and forth about everything, just because he's that annoying, and Zeke... well, Zeke is Zeke.

Due to school, training and work, I haven't really had the time nor the energy to speak to Ricky or find anything about Mr. LaTorre, whoever he is. Technology isn't my strongest suit, and with the minimal amount of information I have on the guy, I'd need someone close to a computer expert to help track him down. Ideally, I had Jace in mind, but he doesn't want anything to do with what I'm doing. Despite the fact he always says he'll help me whenever I need it, he refuses to 'help me out' if he thinks it'll only cause more trouble and put me in danger.

Jace doesn't think going after LaTorre is a good idea and he thinks I should just drop the matter, but I can't. I have never gone back on my word, nor do I leave jobs unfinished. Now that I've invested myself in this drama, I can't quit until I've followed it all the way through and everything's been put to an end.

I don't actually have to do much but get Dakota out of his fight; its not like I'm joining a cult or getting involved with some sort of gang. All I need to do is make some sort of deal, get Dakota out of his contract, and then I can be done. I don't plan to stick around even a second more once this is all over, so I'm trying to come up with a solution as quick as I can as efficiently as I can. During the nights I lay awake, I go over different ideas in my mind and have come up with a solid few.

All I need to do now is find somebody who is smart and familiar with computers so I can find this Mr. LaTorre.

___

Author's Note

This chapter isn't the greatest, I know. I'm really not happy with it (or the next one after this one) but I needed to get something out and don't have the time or the energy to rewrite it all, so....

But anyway, quick question:

How did you guys come across Wattpad?

I'm really curios. I think I was on episode once (was obsessed with that, like I was on it 24/7) and there was this story on there and the person said that she had a more detailed book version on this app called Wattpad, and I was like "hmmm," and then bam, my Wattpad addiction started.

Oh, and how old is everyone?