"Is Lena really still out?" Autumn looked worriedly around the packed lunch room. It had been almost a week since they'd seen her. Ty swallowed and wiped his mouth.
"The flu sticks around a while," he said. "Nothing to get worked up about."
Autumn shook her head.
"You know what Kara's like more than any of us," she told him. "How can you be so sure it's just the flu?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Look, since they moved here, Kara's either drunk or who-knows-where," he got up and threw his tray away. "I really don't think she's much of a threat anymore."
"Well, yeah, but," she trailed off. Was she really getting herself worked up over nothing? "But Lena hasn't answered my calls or texts in days. How do you explain that?"
"Maybe she left her phone in her locker," Lance offered as he and Chad sat across from them. As usual, Chad's food was already half-gone. "Or she's just tired of you bugging her."
Autumn ran a finger along the edge of her metal lunch box, the same pink and white flowers she'd used since sixth grade.
"Can you blame me?" she asked. Ty rubbed the back of his head.
"Well, you do like getting carried away," he said, and Chad nodded in agreement. She huffed, pulling her next breath through her teeth when she saw the angry red scratches on Jason's cheek, as he dropped in the chair beside her.
"Damn," Chad laughed. "What happened to you?"
"Chelsea's cat," he took a plastic container from his backpack. "She knows I'm allergic, but she keeps bringing the damn thing around."
Autumn snickered.
"He probably wouldn't scratch you if your face didn't scare him so much," she said. "Would it really kill you to smile more?"
He didn't answer, his salad more of a pile of broken lettuce leaves with baby carrots and cherry tomatoes thrown on top. Lance pushed his tray aside and cleared his throat.
"So, uh, how's Lena doing?"
Jason tapped his fork on the rim of the container.
"I don't really know," he admitted slowly. "I've just given her what she's missed and then…left."
Lance and Ty groaned, Chad facepalming.
"Are you serious?" he looked incredulous. "You can't just leave her hanging like that!"
"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Jason shot back. "It's not like I can—"
"Lena's not going to do what Emily did," Lance said firmly. "You have to let that go already!"
Jason stuttered.
"It's not—!" he gritted his teeth, then lowered his voice. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it, Jason?" Autumn questioned tersely. "Is it because of your—"
She snapped her mouth shut when he glared at her, then his shoulders slumped.
"She's been through too much already," he sounded defeated. "I don't want her crying over me."
He tensed when a shadow stood over him, accompanied by a mocking laugh.
"You really think someone would waste their time crying over you?"
Jason looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in disgust. The man's dark hair was slicked back, and there was a cold, arrogant glint in his dark blue gaze. His gleaming white smile widened.
"Hey there, cuz," false pleasantry leaked through his easy Italian accent.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jason demanded. The man laughed again.
"That any way to talk to family?"
Jason snorted.
"You're not family," he returned sharply. The oily grin wilted slightly.
"You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Just tell me what you're doing here," Jason's tone didn't change. The guy's smile faded.
"My parents said it'd be good for me to live here a while."
"Why?" Jason copied his earlier smirk. "They have to bail your ass out too many times?"
The man scowled, then stalked off. Jason scoffed, turning back to the table.
"Great," he muttered angrily.
"Who was that?" Ty asked.
"My cousin, Gabriele; I've got some bad history with him," he continued. "I don't really want to talk about it."
He tossed his fork in the container and snapped on the lid, stuffing it in his backpack as he got to his feet.
"I've got some stuff to do, catch up with you guys later."
<<<>>>
Lena groaned, leaning her pulsing head against the back of the couch. Her throat was itchy, dry and sore from coughing, her nose rubbed raw from blowing it every five minutes. She'd dragged the big trash can from the kitchen after Kara had left, the bag filled with most of the box of tissues on the coffee table. As much as she hated being sick, it was still better than dealing with all the insane drama at school.
She looked at the piles of half-finished chemistry and algebra homework and the books stacked next to them. Her biggest problem for the past week. It was bad enough she barely understood most of it, but she'd become obsessed with figuring out what Jason was really hiding. There was something under the emotional and physical scars she had found, but what could it be? She groaned again, ready to tear out her hair when the doorbell rang.
Her head spun as she got up, her eyes watering as she looked through the peephole. Jason was waiting restlessly on the porch, messing with the zipper of his dark leather jacket as he glanced up and down the street, another blue folder tucked under his arm. Lena smiled to herself as she opened the door, thinking it would be fun to try getting a rise out of him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the frame.
"So is this going to be any different, or are you just going to hand me the crap and leave like you usually do?"
He winced, his braces catching the late winter sunlight.
"I've…had stuff to do," he offered weakly. She snorted.
"Like working in your piss-pot uncle's garage?"
Anger flashed through his eyes.
"What's with you?" he snapped. "I know you've been stuck here all week, but don't take it out on me!"
She shrugged.
"I don't have anyone else to take it out on," she countered smoothly. "So why shouldn't it be you?"
He stared at her, the anger fading as quickly as it had shown up.
"What's this really about?" he asked. "I doubt staying home's got you this pissed."
She shivered in a gust of wind and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Okay, so I'm exhausted," she half-heartedly covered a yawn. "This is the first day I haven't been puking almost nonstop and I've barely slept all week."
She looked in the living room. The stacks of paper seemed even bigger than before.
"I'm not getting any of this," she went on. "And Kara took my phone because she found out my grades are in the toilet."
He blinked.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
She scoffed.
"You didn't really give me a chance," she lowered her head, a thread of fear coming into her voice. "And I didn't want to give Stephanie another reason to hate me."
She was surprised when he chuckled, then he tilted her chin back, a small smirk still on his lips.
"She's not here now, though, is she?"
<<<>>>
Lena let the pencil fall from her fingers. The work she'd been struggling with for days, done in three and a half hours! She turned to Jason, smiling excitedly.
"Who are you, and what did you do with Jason?"
He laughed.
"They've always been my best subjects," he shrugged. "I never really thought about it."
She giggled, scooting closer to him.
"So is there anything else you're hiding from me?"
The grin faded from his face, and he looked almost relieved when the front door clicked shut. Kara walked into the living room, stopping short when she saw them.
"Lena, who's this?"
He got to his feet and straightened his jacket.
"I'm a friend from school," he went over and shook her hand. "I'm Jason Vetra."
She looked past him, lifting a finely plucked brow.
"Jason, I'm sorry, but am I interrupting something?"
He put his hand in his pocket.
"I was just helping Lena with the work she's missed."
"Oh, should I let you get back to it?"
"We just finished," he glanced at the fine silver watch on her wrist. "And there's somewhere else I have to be soon."
She smiled, turning to Lena.
"There's something we have to talk about, but it can wait until you two are done."
She went to the kitchen, setting her purse on the counter. Lena grabbed the small blanket draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She followed Jason outside, sneezing into the crook of her arm.
"You sure you should be out here?" he asked worriedly, an icy breeze blowing through their hair. She sniffled, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself.
"I had to get away from her," she muttered. He looked at her in confusion.
"Why? She seemed okay to me."
She shook her head.
"Believe me, it's an act," her fingers tightened on the edge of the blanket. He touched her arm, and she knew he could feel her shaking.
"You won't be stuck with her forever," he assured her. "You'll be on your own soon, and then you'll never have to look back."
She shrugged his hand off.
"Why does it feel like you're trying to give me a pep talk?" she glared half-heartedly at him. He chuckled.
"You looked like you needed one."
He went stiff when his phone vibrated.
"Hey, I have to go," he brushed her cheek. "Just make sure you're better by next Sunday, okay?"
She looked at him.
"Why?"
He flashed a mysterious smile, then winked at her.
"You'll see."
She blushed, watching as he climbed in his truck, and she threw up a brief wave. Her heart raced when he waved back before taking off. She sighed dreamily.
Why do I like him so much?
<<<>>>
The quarter moon glowed behind a sheet of fog and sleet. He hurried through the woods, his pants and boots soaked from splashing through the half-frozen puddles that dotted the narrow path. The wind was blowing hard, knocking the bare branches above him together. He stopped when he got to the wide river, the current too fast for ice to form. The rotting planks and fraying rope that made up the decrepit bridge creaked, threatening to break with each careful step. The echoes stayed in his ears long after he had crossed, but it did nothing to silence the thoughts whirling through his mind.
You can't do this, he told himself. You can't betray them like this!
He knew it didn't matter which team he chose to play for, either one would mean the death of someone he cared about. They had made sure there was no getting out of that.
There still has to be something I can do, he thought helplessly. Maybe if I—
"Are you going to look up any time soon?"
He flushed. Anya stood across from him, her arms folded, a light smirk on her cherry-red lips. He chuckled weakly; he'd made it to the clearing without even noticing.
"I'd go blind if I stared at you too long," he said, and she laughed.
"I hope that's a compliment."
He chuckled again, following her inside the small hut. As usual, a line of needles sat ready on a steel tray, a black medical cooler sitting on the floor next to the stand. They hadn't needed the blood or fluids yet, but he was glad she kept them on hand. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on a broken pipe near the close ceiling, then sat on a tall stool as termite-eaten as the thin walls.
"Well, let's get started."
She nodded, her hands shaking a bit as she pushed up his shirt, and he knew she was staring at his scars when she paused. The smell of the new sterilizing compound burned his nose as she held a small cotton pad to the narrow mouth of a gray bottle; some scientists had expressed concerns that normal rubbing alcohol would affect the potency of the serums. Considering what was in some of them, he wouldn't be surprised.
She wiped down the injection site, grabbed the first syringe and pulled off the clouded plastic cap. It was probably a trick of the sharp, single light overhead, but he could have sworn the liquid inside changed from muddy brown to a deep red.
He groaned in pain as the tip of the long needle pierced his spine. The effects were immediate—his body trembled and rocked with violent spasms, his veins swelling as the mixture coursed through his blood. Her frightened gasp echoed from miles away, her grip on his shoulder sending out waves of pain as she tried to keep him still for the second injection.
"I'm sorry I have to do this!"
He tore at his face, every inch of his body burning, his ragged screams getting caught in his throat as a leg snapped on the stool. Every nerve shrieked when he caught himself on his hands; he stared helplessly at her through sweat-soaked hair, shaking as he fought to get the words out.
"Please, t-tell me it's over…"
Anya choked, taking the other four needles from the tray.
"If I don't give you all of them, they'll kill us."
He clenched his jaw, barely holding back another scream. The pain came in jagged pulses, flaring with every pound of his racing heart.
"I already…feel like I'm dying," he forced the words out, his throat tight. "J-Just do it!"
She administered them as fast as she could. It felt like every cell was being ripped to pieces, his vision blurring as tears pooled on the worn, splintering floor. At long last, the fits faded, and he breathed a faint, relieved sigh as he finally collapsed, the howling wind outside blowing into cold, empty silence.
<<<>>>
Lena rubbed her eyes. The clock on the mantlepiece was caught in a shaft of light from the lamppost by the sidewalk; it was going on midnight. The tapping that had woken her up started again—what if it woke Kara? Her phone vibrated on the floor; had she knocked it off the coffee table in her sleep? There was a text from Autumn, asking to meet her on the porch. There was something big they had to talk about.
Well, I'm awake, she messaged back, saying she'd be out in a second. Might as well see what she wants.
She tiptoed to the front door, flicked on the outside light and looked through the peephole. A shivering girl stood outside, tendrils of auburn hair tumbling from her hood.
"Autumn?" Lena unlocked the door and pulled it open, wincing when the hinges squeaked. She called again when the girl didn't answer, then stepped outside. A strong hand clamped fast across her mouth, another grabbing her waist. The other girl lifted her head, showing her face was painted like a skeleton's, her lips curled in a wide, cruel smile. The rest of her hair was stark black.
"Keep holding her," she whispered loudly, then dug two large, looped cable ties from the front pocket of her baggy sweatshirt. "I'll take care of the rest."
Lena grabbed her captor's hand with both of hers, hoping she could free her mouth long enough to scream. They tightened their grip and shoved a knee in her back, knocking the breath out of her. The girl grabbed her wrists and bound them, then moved to her ankles, gleefully snickering.
"Let's get going," she hissed when she finished. "I don't want anyone seeing us."
Lena squirmed, trying to kick as her feet left the ground; she grunted as she was thrown over a hard, thick shoulder, her captor's hand remaining firmly over her mouth. They brought her to a black car parked in front of the empty house next door, throwing her in the back before getting in themselves. The girl adjusted the rearview mirror, glaring at her with such hatred that Lena was amazed she didn't burst into flames.
"Put her out," she started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "And make sure I can't see her ugly face."
The other person laughed, forcing her head back toward them; she caught glimpses of their face in every passing streetlight, painted like a red dragon. They parted their fingers and shoved a thin straw past her lips, flashing a dark, arrogant smirk.
"Be a good girl and drink it all," they said quietly, menacingly. "Or else."
Lena gulped down the warm, salty water as fast as she could, choking on the last few sips. They laughed, propping her against their side, their hot breath hitting her ear as the bottle fell to the floor.
"Hope you're ready," they whispered. "Because you and I are about to have a lot of fun."
<<<>>>
Jason couldn't believe that Lena was still missing. Three days had passed since the police had questioned him, since he'd learned he was one of the last known people to see her alive. He pushed his plate aside and reached across the kitchen table, dragged the poster close and focused on the picture, the same one he had as his lock screen. The page fell to the floor when his phone vibrated, and he tugged it from his shirt pocket, quickly accepting Chad's call.
"We must have combed the whole island by now," he got right to the point. "Where the heck could she be?"
"I wish I knew," Jason sighed. He couldn't believe it was happening again, things were supposed to be different this time!
"Hey, Lena's nothing like Emily," Chad snapped. It didn't surprise him the guy knew exactly what he was thinking. "She wouldn't do anything like this on purpose!"
Jason had lost track of how many times he'd tried to tell himself that, but it was one of the few thoughts that refused to stay in his head. The insane drama with Emily had just deepened the wounds left by his brother and sister, and he was doubting they would ever fully heal.
"Look, I can't tell you to forget about Emily," Chad sounded as sympathetic as he did fed up. "But I can tell you it's okay to stop blaming yourself for it."
"It's not like I try to," he leaned on the table. There were the muffled sounds of a car door and voices on Chad's end of the line.
"Look, we're on our way back to the woods," he said. "We'll swing by and get you."
The line clicked off. Jason sighed again, letting his phone fall to the table. His head had been pounding since he'd woken up, sprawled on the couch with no memory of getting there.
What the hell happened last night?
He got up, grabbed a half-empty Sprite from the fridge and hit the living room. He watched the street through the long front window, seeing kids bundled up and playing in the melting snow. He could just see the opening to the cul-de-sac, imagining the large willows standing on the banks of Fisherman's Creek, a popular spot in the heat of summer. It all served as a reminder of the life, the family he could never get back.
Don't think about it, he told himself harshly. If you get stuck again, you'll never find Lena.
He polished off the Sprite and crushed the bottle in his fist. He had to stay focused, and that meant forgetting the past, keeping the memories and pain locked up inside where he couldn't reach them.
It's for the best, he thought. She's all that matters now.
He went for the door as his cousin, Dante's, red SUV pulled into the driveway, stopping in his tracks when his hand trembled. The bottle fell to the floor as his fingers spasmed; he doubled over, clutching his stomach as searing pain ripped through him.
No, not this again!
Loud, hoarse coughs rattled his chest, a hand flying to his mouth as a violent burning surged up his throat. There was a vibrant red stain on his palm when he pulled it away, his skin already slick with sweat. Tears spilled from his eyes, the knock at the door a deafening echo. His vision blurred, the world fading, tilting as the door flew open.
"Jason!"
<<<>>>
Jason groaned, feeling like a thousand white-hot needles had been jammed through his skull. A stale, bitter taste clung to the back of his throat, his mouth dry. He could feel something flaking at the corner of his lips, every muscle stiff and sore. He opened his burning eyes slowly, hating how long it took his vision to clear.
"What…happened?" his voice was weak. A blond woman with brown eyes leaned over him, grabbing the damp compress that had fallen from his forehead.
"We found you unconscious," Chloe said softly. She was his cousin, Dante's, girlfriend, fresh out of nursing school. "It's been two hours."
He sat up, shrugging her hands away when she tried to push him back down.
"Two hours?" it'd felt like seconds. She nodded.
"We knew something was wrong when we heard that crash."
They looked toward a small pile of shattered porcelain on the floor, a recreation of a famous statue his mother had bought on the family's last trip to Italy, just a few weeks before the accident.
"What are you doing here?" he turned back to her.
"Don't you remember?" she pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket, a copy of the poster he'd been looking at earlier. "Lena's still missing, everyone else has gone ahead to look for her."
The weight of fear and unease settled back in his stomach, making the nausea worse. He stood quickly, fighting back a wave of dizziness.
"You shouldn't be up yet," she reached for him. "You still have to—"
"I have to help find her," he went for the front door, barely making it a step before having to catch himself on the wall just to stay on his feet.
"You're not going anywhere," Chloe chided him. "You were in the ICU for almost a month last time you let yourself get this bad, you need to be more careful!"
He groaned, clutching his head, his other hand still pressed to the wall.
"I don't care," he managed, his voice shaking. The dizziness won out, and he sank to his knees. How much longer would he be stuck living like this? "I just hate feeling so useless like this."
"Oh, Jason," she knelt next to him. "You're not useless, but you can't keep pushing yourself."
"What about Lena?" he'd never felt so desperate. "I need to help find her!"
"And you will," she brought them both to their feet, then led him back to the couch. "But only after you've gotten some rest."
He stared at her, then laid down and closed his eyes; she put the compress back into place.
"Just a couple hours," she told him. "Then we can go help look for her."
<<<>>>
Jason was regretting his insistence to go out on his own. Chloe had kept her promise, driving him to the forest after he'd slept a few more hours, but it meant it had been almost sunset when they'd arrived, the rest of the group already deep in the search. His flashlight had died shortly after he'd gotten started, leaving him nearly blind as he made his way through the trees.
Lena was the only thing on his mind. What could have happened to her? Would she be all right when they found her? The images that kept flashing through his mind twisted his gut—her locked up alone in a cold and filthy room, or lying abused, bloodied and half-dead in a flooded ditch, discarded like trash as her mother had been. He gulped, nearly choking on it.
She's fine, he tried to assure himself. She has to be.
He stopped by an oak tree on the crest of a small hill, an old memory surfacing at the sight of the large knothole at the base of the trunk. The wind had howled, rain coming fast in icy sheets; he'd wandered too far from the manor while exploring, crawling in that hole to take shelter from the storm. He'd hugged himself as he wept in fear, shaking from the cold as rivulets of runoff spilled into his refuge. It had been a few days before his eighth birthday, when he'd woken up in the hospital with a sore head and a shattered leg.
Stop it!
He pounded the bark as anger coursed through him. He ran, the world a dark blur until he tripped over a root, tumbling through the frosty undergrowth. Tears mingled with the sweat trickling down his cheek, sobs leaking through his gasps for breath.
Men aren't supposed to cry, his brother's voice snapped in his head. It means they're pussies.
So what if I cry? He slammed a fist into the soil. Better than being a cold-blooded prick.
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, pausing when he heard a dying echo. He got to his feet, following the voice to a long, deep hole in the ground, wide enough for a deer to fall into. It had been a natural air shaft for the long-abandoned mine, now just a trap for unlucky forest creatures and the occasional hiker.
He covered his nose against the dank air that filtered from the crack, walking carefully around it. The nearly full moon broke through the thick clouds, spilling into the clearing just ahead. He gasped, seeing a lone, filthy figure huddled against a fallen tree, and hurried toward her.
"Lena!"
He fell to his knees beside her, tugged her in his arms and hugged her tightly. She was trembling, ice cold to the touch, and he realized she wore nothing but her underwear. How long had she been exposed like that? He pulled off his jacket and draped it around her, her face tight with pain as she slowly pushed her arms through the sleeves.
"J-Jason…" she was crying, her voice low, hoarse and shaking. She fell against him. "Take me home…please."
He shook his head firmly.
"I'm taking you to the hospital," he picked her up as he stood, so she reclined against his chest. He noted briefly that she was much lighter than he'd expected. "We have to make sure you're okay."
<<<>>>
Lena had only uttered a few disconnected details on their way to Second Chance, then guzzled a small bottle of water before passing out. Jason got up from his chair in the waiting room and started pacing, trying to dispel his nervous energy. His clothes were covered in flaking mud and small, scattered splotches of blood, his half-dried hair sticking to his neck. He'd used the last of his cell battery to text the rest of the gang, letting them know that he'd found her, that he and Chloe had made sure she was safe. He knew Lena didn't need him anymore, that he could come back after she had recovered some, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.
"Jason?"
He looked to see Dr. Amir Khan by the reception desk, the tablet he held almost comically small compared to him. He'd been the Vetra family doctor for longer than Jason could remember, his thinning, white streaked black hair slicked back as always, his sharp, dark brown eyes filled with uncharacteristic worry.
"How's Lena?" Jason swallowed past the lump in his throat. Khan shook his head.
"Considering what she's just been through, I'd say she's doing very well," he glanced at his tablet. "She's very dehydrated, has sustained multiple hairline fractures to her ankle and wrist, and has developed quite the case of pneumonia."
Jason could tell there was something else, but didn't question it, knowing it wasn't his place to ask. He followed the man to a smaller waiting area across from several white doors, the furthest decorated with a large purple flower, the same room he usually ended up in. The story behind the flower was that a girl with bone cancer had drawn it a few months before being sent to hospice, and her distressed parents had begged the old hospital director to leave it. He'd gone a step further, establishing a tradition that held to this day. The pictures were also embossed on the headstones of those who had lost the fight.
"She's asleep now," Khan nodded toward it. "You'll have to stay out here until she wakes up, so please don't disturb the other patients."
Jason nodded absently, then watched the man walk away from the corner of his eye. Aside from the decorated doors, Second Chance was the most white-washed place he'd ever seen, with only framed prints, pale gray tables and powder blue chairs to break it up. He glanced at the nurses' station, a blue so pale it might as well have been white, knowing it wouldn't stay empty for long. He went to Lena's door and slipped inside, then shut it silently behind him. She was lying in the bed closest to the window; her left wrist bound in a red cast, her damp hair spread across the pillow. Two IVs pierced her right arm, her breath softly rasping. There was a gray pulse monitor on her finger, the quiet broken by a steady beep that was almost soothing.
He went to the chair beside her bed and sagged into it, his thoughts drifting restlessly between her and the extra-credit work waiting at home. The assignments were more of a distraction than anything else, though they didn't help for long.
Thinking about the past won't get you anywhere, he snapped at himself. It just made it more difficult to think clearly. He stood and went to the window, peeking past the drab white curtain. The sunrise was a slim line of amber along the distant hills, the cloudy sky pale violet and steel blue. He turned at a soft moan to see Lena rubbing her eyes, before she looked around with a dazed expression.
"What happened?" she sat up slowly, blinking in the dimmed light. "Where are we?"
"I found you in the woods last night," he came and sat back down. "Chloe and I brought you to the hospital."
She looked at him.
"The last thing I remember is climbing out of some pit," she swallowed hard. "I don't even know how long I was down there."
His eyes narrowed, and he stared blankly at the sheet that covered her legs. She reached for him, stopped short of touching his hand.
"What is it?"
"I'm trying to figure out who'd be crazy enough to do this," he muttered thoughtfully. "But I doubt even Stephanie would pull something this drastic."
"I won't be much help," she scooted closer, stopping when her IVs went taut. "Their faces were painted, I have no idea who they were."
"Did you recognize anything about them?"
She gave a weak shrug.
"I thought one of them sounded kind of familiar, but I doubt I'd know if I heard them again," she smoothed her heavy swath of hair over her shoulder. "And it looks like I'll never find out what you had planned for Sunday now."
He chuckled a bit.
"I don't care about that," he brushed her bangs from her eyes. "I'm just glad you're okay."
She blushed, her gaze darting to his lips. He smiled.
"One thing's for sure," he smoothed his thumb over a scrape on her cheek. "You're still the cutest girl I've ever seen."
He leaned closer until she covered his hand with hers. He froze then, a cold lump forming in his chest, but he pushed past it, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.
"You'll probably have nightmares," he said. "But you should try getting some more sleep, you've been through a lot."
He laughed when she gave him a puppy dog stare, completing the pitiful look by resting her head on his shoulder. He brushed her cheek again.
"You'll be safe here," he told her. "I promise."
Her gaze flicked to his chest.
"That's not what I'm worried about, Jason," her fingers tightened on his shirt. "I just don't want to be away from you right now."
He looked at her, then sighed.
"I'm actually not supposed to be in here right now," he revealed. "I probably won't be allowed to come back if I don't leave now."
Gently, he pulled her upright, tilting her chin back when it slumped to her chest. He put a hand on her back to help support her, feeling himself lean close as he got lost in her eyes, only for them both to freeze when someone cleared their throat.
Lena went stiff when she saw Kara, standing just inside the room with her hands planted firmly on her slim hips. Jason stood fast and stuffed a hand in his pocket, the other getting caught in the mussed hair on the back of his head.
"I'll, uh, go get Khan," he said awkwardly. "He should know you're awake."
He hurried out, nodding briefly to Kara as he passed.
"I'll see you at school, Lena."
<<<>>>
Lena reached for the call button as Kara stalked toward her, only for it to be wrenched from her grip the moment she got ahold of it. She cried out as the woman slapped her, wishing the cuts on her cheek had been severe enough to bandage. At least it would have offered some kind of padding.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kara demanded, quiet enough that no one in the hallway would hear. "I was nice enough to give you that damn phone back before I left, and you weren't even smart enough to keep it with you!"
Lena glared tearfully at her, awkwardly holding her stinging face.
"It wasn't my fault," she snapped through gritted teeth. "I was kidnapped and kept unconscious for days, then dumped in the middle of nowhere!"
Kara scoffed.
"You and your lame excuses," she slapped Lena across the other cheek; at least that side was bandaged. "The next time I call, you sure as hell better answer, or you'll be lucky to wake up in the morning!"
Lena growled, shoving her back with what strength she had. Kara stumbled in her heels, her grip loosening as she focused on catching her balance.
"I'm done listening to your threats, you stupid bitch," she said, much more confidently than she felt. She snatched the call button, about to press it when Dr. Khan appeared in the doorway, easily dwarfing the woman.
"Is everything all right?" he asked. Lena shook her head and leveled an icy stare at her stepmother.
"I want her thrown out of here, please," she stated calmly. "And make sure she can't come back."
Kara glowered at her.
"You ungrateful little cunt!" she stormed forward, yelling in indignation when Khan tugged her back toward him. "After everything I've done for you!"
Lena simply shrugged, keeping her face in an uncaring mask.
"Like you always told us, Mom," she mocked flatly. "Life's never fair!"
She laid down as Khan and a male nurse dragged the woman away, folding the pillow around her head to help block the fading stream of obscenities. It should have felt amazing, giving Kara a taste of her own medicine, but it was overshadowed by the pain that lingered in her chest, the fresh memory of the twist of emotion in Jason's eyes as he'd pulled away from her. Anger, fear, sadness and shame stirring together on his handsome face, before he'd slammed that flat facade of his back into place. What the hell was he hiding, and why did he refuse to trust her?
Jason…
She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears trickle freely down her cheeks.
<<<>>>
Jason dragged his hands slowly through his hair, trying to focus solely on the rush of hot water over his skin. He'd gone straight home from the hospital and passed out on the couch in front of Palazzo del sangue, the goriest film in Italian history. He hadn't noticed the title when putting it in, he'd just wanted to forget what had happened that morning.
He'd tried so hard to be normal after what his brother and sister had done to him, only for it all to fall apart again thanks to Emily. He'd kept his emotions locked away for the last two years, too afraid the pattern would just repeat itself.
Lena's nothing like Emily.
Of course he knew that, but it didn't stop the fear. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel; the damp air in the bathroom reminded him of the Bahamas, of learning to swim and surf in that crystal blue water, the paradise he'd tasted almost every summer he could remember. He'd gotten caught in a riptide once while building a sandcastle near the shore, and the next thing he knew, he'd been coughing up salt water on the deck of a motorboat, four strangers looking down at him with worried faces.
"Are you okay?" a girl asked. She was six, her short black hair in pigtails. He groaned, hugging himself.
"No," he coughed again, rubbing his throat. It felt like he'd eaten sandpaper, after swallowing a handful of rocks. "Where are we?"
"On our boat," a boy said. He was five, bright red hair cropped around his big ears. "I'm Lance, that's Stephanie."
"I'm his sister," she offered brightly. Jason sat up on his knees and coughed up some foam.
"I'm Jason."
He'd been weeks away from his fourth birthday. His parents hadn't realized he was gone until the Carters' boat had docked the next morning. That had been a stab to the heart, since he'd still clung to the hope that they cared about him, but he and Lance had been best friends ever since. That was about when Stephanie had started mooning over him, now that he thought about it.
He finished drying off, tossed the towel aside and pulled on dark green pajama pants. He stared blankly at his reflection as he picked up his comb. Long, thick black hair that was arrow-straight, with slanted black eyes that were so much like his mother's, a dark tan marred by a life's worth of scars.
A small one on his left cheek from a fall, the newer line from stitches on his chin. Water dripped from his tangled bangs, running over a set of messy bite marks on his right shoulder—a rabid dog, one of many things that had nearly killed him. Then there were the myriad of slashing lines across his back, but the worst of them sat just above his left hip.
His brother had tied him hand and foot to his bed when he was nine, using a dirty sock to muffle his screams as a fine soldering iron had carved that spear-headed snake, writhing through the jagged cracks of a shattered heart. The reek of cauterized skin and burning blood had been overwhelming, and his small body had quickly gone numb from exhaustion.
I swear, Carson; he slammed the comb down, the bright orange plastic snapping in two when his fist tightened. If I ever find you, I'll rip your fucking throat out!
He threw the ruined comb away and grabbed his clothes, dumping them in a pile by his door. He dropped on his bed and snatched his phone from the nightstand, his mood souring further when he saw the alert for a new message.
"You're on thin ice, junior," the digital voice snipped at him. "Either you take care of our little 'issue', or I make sure the whole world knows what you really are. Think about it."
The number was blocked, the voice unrecognizable, but he'd gotten enough to know the calls came from the same person. They had frightened him at first, now little more than an annoyance.
Whatever, he let out a long breath, then deleted it like the others. I'll find them eventually and remind them who they're screwing with.