Hellcat

Chapter 9

Wilder Sanchez

I can't feel anything. Not my arms, not my legs not the weight of my entire body sinking into the softest mattress ever. I feel weightless as if I am floating above the earth and all of my limbs have been replaced with tiny butterflies, lifting me up and carrying me away.

Until my eyes flutter open and the sunlight blinds me and suddenly, it is as if all of my muscles are on fire. Groaning, I lift my head from the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and opening them to see that the other side of the bed is empty.

The room I am in is unfamiliar.

It is a large room with a king-sized bed in the middle. The black satin duvet is ruffled at both sides which means who ever's room I am in, the person slept next to me on the bed.

Or you just rolled around like you usually do.

What a wisecrack that voice in my head.

The drapes are drawn and they are dark red. There are two plush red velvet seats that stand out looking at the french window. A small wooden table sits in the middle holding papers and chairs. In my opinion, the room is unnecessarily large for all the things in it.

Flipping over, I push the covers off my body and slowly lower my feet to the floor, wincing as I stand up straight and trudge towards the bathroom. Resting my hands on the countertop, I lift my head to study my reflection in the mirror and immediately cringe in disgust. Despite having slept for, God knows how long I look like I have just risen from the dead.

Makeup from last night is dried to my face and no longer looks attractive since it is smudged from all my pillow hugging. My hair is a rat's nest, a forest that will take bulldozers to fix. God, I hate my cinnamon red hair. It's beautiful after hours of hairspray and torturous combing but most of the other times, it's just a pain. And it's so damn long. But I would rather die than cut it. So it hangs to my waist in long burdensome tight curls. 

I splash my face with water and begin rummaging through the stranger who has kidnapped me's drawers in search of a toothbrush. I cry in victory when I find one, and I am about to rip it out of the package when I hear the room door open. Carefully, I return the toothbrush to where it was and reach for my knife. I find it easily in the thigh of my dress. My abductor really did not try to help himself or herself (hey, it could happen.)

I barge into the room, knife held in front of me as I wildly scan the room.

"I'm unarmed," Abe says humorlessly. He is standing in the doorway of what I must now assume is his bedroom. A tray of food is in his hands.

I narrow my eyes at him as if I am contemplating doing a pat-down search to confirm what he is saying, at the last minute I decide against it and instead return the knife to its previous position before sitting on the bed.

"Decor's nice."

"I didn't sleep with you," Abe says, placing the tray on the night side.

"I didn't ask."

"But you were thinking about it. Food's for you. I've got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I'll take you home when you are done. Or you can call a cab if you would prefer that."

Yes, I would prefer that you don't know where I live.

"Painkillers?"

Abe seems prepared for this question as he stands up, going to the bathroom and returning seconds later with a bottle of painkillers. He shakes two Advil pills into my hand.

How did I notice that during my desperate search for a toothbrush? 

I swallow them dry then stare at the tray of food. The plate is covered with triangular pancakes, sausages, a small dish of baked beans, strawberries, halved grilled tomatoes, and motherfucking bacon and eggs. The coffee is black with lots of sugar. Josh must have told him. 

"Why so much food?" 

Not that I mind being served a home-cooked meal in bed. 

"I wasn't sure what you would like." Abe looks bashful. 

It's cute that he cares. "You cook?"

"Not much."

Judging by the spread he has laid out for me I very much doubt that his cooking skills are just a little. But I decide not to call him out for his obvious lie. 

"Where is Josh?"

He frowns slightly. "Keith's house. He usually spends his Saturday morning there. Because he's too drunk to come home."

"Your parents don't mind?" I'm sure Lucas will kill me if he ever finds out what I have been doing with my life. Although I am pretty sure that at the rate at which I am going, I just might do the honours myself. 

"They don't know."

"How?"

Lucas does not know about your clandestine activities Eli? How's that?

I truly hate it when the voice in my head calls me out for my hypocrisy.

"Think of Josh as the Batman. He lives a double life. My parents know he's not an angel but they don't know just how far gone he really is."

"So what you are saying is your little brother is secretly a billionaire bachelor?" I ask with a teasing smirk.

Abe bursts into laughter. "You've got the bachelor part right."

"I don't doubt it," I tease, smiling slightly.

Our laughter fades into silence. Abe stands by the bed awkwardly. I'm not sure what to say to alleviate the sudden tension in the air.

"Um, I should probably go help Keith clean up his house," Abe says, grabbing a jacket which I only just noticed was on the bed.

"Cool," I say quickly. Weirdly. "Cool," I repeat.

Abe nods stiffly and walks out.

I breathe normally now that I can't see him. I brush my teeth and finish up the breakfast. I consider exploring the house but decide against it since Abe never said I could. There's a map on the nightstand to show me around the house which I can swear wasn't there when I left for the bathroom. It leaves me with one question: are my observation skills really that terrible that I missed the painkillers and now the sticky note or had Abe had the pills on his person when he walked in and came back in after I went to the bathroom to bring me the map?

I walk myself out of the house and am standing on their well-tended but small front lawn calling an Uber when I make the mistake of glancing at their neighbour's lawn. Keith Young is standing there, holding a watering hose in one hand and a retractable leash attached to a large dog with a mixed coloured coat that is glossed by the spindly rays of the late summer sun. Keith notices my staring and jogs over.

"Hangover?" he asks simply.

I'm too experienced for that.

"I'm okay," I say. "You?"

"I don't drink."

So he was sober last night. That means he remembers last night. All of it. I can pretend to have forgotten what happened last night. Pretend none of it happened. One look at the green irises of the dog which meekly stands next to Keith confirms I will not be able to forget. Those eyes are a lot like A-

No! You cannot say his name. The mysterious voice in my head chides. This voice more often than not is a nuisance than an advisor. But it has said some wise things that have saved me from some pretty shitty situations.

But I'm just thinking about it?

"You sure you're okay?" Keith asks.

"Fine," I say a little too quickly. A little too sharply; a little too rudely. I'm reverting to my old self. Not good. It's too soon for retrogression, so I think about the guy who made the change possible. "How's Josh?"

The dog perks up at the mention of Josh's name.

Huh, wonder why. Maybe they are kindred spirits in ketchup. Though I can't imagine why a dog would be interested in artificially sweetened tomato sauce.

"Dead on my couch. Someone will have to wake him up when we get to cleaning the couch." Keith says. "This is Oregano."

Oregano gives a small bark at the mention of his name.

I tilt my head to the side in confusion. "Oregano?"

"It's a long story. I can tell you on another day. But right now Oregano needs his walk. See you at school on Monday?"

"Sure," I wave, staring at boy and dog until they disappear completely.

As if on cue, my Uber arrives. I clamber into the back of the car and give the driver my home address.

Seven hours later I'm risen from my drug-induced slumber by the loud ringing of my phone. It was a combination of hydrocodone and fentanyl, prescription pills I stole from my neighbour's mailbox. I heard he broke his arm at work and knew I had to take advantage of his insurance meds.

My head is foggy, an after effect of the pills and it takes a little more time than necessary to locate my phone which somehow ended up in a dutch oven on my stove (I don't even want to know how that happened but it must have been in my drunken stupor). Thankfully the phone isn't cooked and I recognise the number.

"Josh?"

"Did I wake you, Eli? I'll call back if that's the case-"

"It's fine. I'm already awake now. Talk."

"This is a mistake. It is a mistake, right? Why did I even think of doing this? I'm going to be in so much trouble for this. I'm never going to hear the end of it. I'm going to get caught. It'll ruin my future, and Abe will be so disappointed. My parents will be so sad-" his voice is more high-pitched and worried than it has ever been.

What has he gotten himself into?

"Josh!" I snap when I can't take it anymore. "What are you going to do?"

"It's nothing really. I'm sure they can move on without me. Maybe my mom will come and visit me in prison. Who knows, I may even be cellmates with Micheal Scofield and he can help me break out with his super-genius brain-" I can hear the tears in his voice, the anxiety rolling in waves on his body. I've known him for a total of six days and in all this time Josh has never shown this much fear and panic.

Something isn't right.

Well duh,

It's not the time for the cheekiness of the voice in my head.

It's always the time, Eli. Don't forget I live in you.

Unfortunately, I think wryly.

"Josh, where are you?" The concern is starting to seep into my voice. Can I really be worried about someone after knowing him for just a week? Yes, that is exactly what is happening.

"I'm at our school. You know I had this whole prank planned out. I was just going to sneak into the school and exchange the labels on the reagents in the chem lab, then," he hiccups. "then, I just saw the guard and I panicked and I fell and he started chasing me and now," his voice trails off, giving way to loud sobbing noises.

I react immediately. Shoes, jacket and I'm out of my apartment, bounding down the pavement towards the school. I get there in twice the time I usually take which is probably because for once my going there has a purpose beyond maintaining my deal with Lucas. I need to find Josh, but I was in such a rush to get to him that I forgot my phone. There's no way I can find in him now that entire city has been enveloped in darkness and apparently the security detail are on duty.

I don't want to risk trespassing charges.

But at the same time, I need to make sure my friend is okay.

The choice is obvious, Eli. Quit stalling.

I swear one of these days I'm going to find the day into my head and end that voice.

You can't get rid of me, Eli. I'm your subconscious. I'm a part of you.

Pipe down!

Almost half an hour later, I can only conclude that Josh is no longer in Westreet Prep. I'm tired and warm from the light exercise I got jogging around our school. I thought for sure he would be on the soccer field but he wasn't. I've given up and am on my way home when I notice a faint distressing sound coming from the community park.

The laughter of the children in the park has died along with the light of the day. In the darkness, the black grass is left to recover from the happy frenetic footfalls, soccer balls and picnics. The trees swing, at first conspicuous against a dusty grey sky, then hidden by the blackest night. Leaves scuttle along the path and the gust of wind becomes sharper, raising goosebumps on my arm. Cicadas and crickets work hard at creating a nighttime symphony for the nocturnals such as myself.

But above that faint noise, I discern the very distinct sound of soft crying. My hyper-sensitive ears lead me deeper into the park but it is a place I have visited many times as a child and I have little fear for my bearings. I am more concerned about finding this wounded animal and confirming whether it is my friend.

A heart-wrenching sob echoes in the night followed by a very loud cry of "No!"

I find him.

He's sitting on a swing set, which is undoubtedly wet from the day's rain, gripping onto the metal chains that support the wooden seat as if they also support the fabric of his existence, head buried in his lap, body wracking with tears.

Josh Bennett looks...

Pitiful.

This isn't right.

There are a lot of words I can think of to describe Josh but pitiful should never be one of them. He's so full of life and energy, so radiant and funny, and kind and smart. And, he shouldn't be sad. People like Josh deserve the world. They deserve the smiles and the families and the girlfriends and the secured jobs.

I have to fix this.

Carefully, almost hesitantly, I walk towards him and sit next to him on the other swing chair. I don't reach for him, I need him to slowly absorb my presence and hopefully accept this.

"I don't like swing sets."

He stirs slightly but does not move from his position.

"I've always been terrified of them. The euphoria and adrenalin most kids feel as they fly in the air with the sun on their cheeks and the wind in their hair, I feel that as fear. Only a hundred times more gripping." I truly am afraid of swing sets. But not when they are stationary like the one I am on right now.

Josh doesn't respond.

I honestly thought admitting my fear would get him to open up. It seems I have to try another one. That always works in the movies.

You forget this is real life, Eli.

Just shut up, okay?

I'll think about it.

It takes buckets of self-control to stop myself from banging my head against a tree right now. I'm talking to a voice in my head. And it isn't even listening to me. I truly am insane.

"I'm also not a fan of being in a park at this time of the day."

"I don't like the dark. But I'm not afraid of it. I'm more terrified of what is in the dark. Because in the dark, I can't see. I can't see what is around me. And I hate it. I hate not knowing what is going on. So even though I have tattoos crawling up my body and like to get drunk off my ass on the weekend, I sleep with a night light on. I have a stuffed animal called Jasmine. Jasmine was given to me by my nanny when I was only five years old. Nanny Jay was my best friend. Jasmine is an adorable pink pig. And I hug her to sleep every night.-"

A snort. "No, you don't."

As embarrassing as this story is, it has gotten my first reaction from him so I proceed.

That's the spirit! Embarrass the heck out of yourself to this super cute guy. 

Go to hell.

I live in you. I'm pretty sure I'm already in hell. 

Ignoring the voice in my head, I focus on making Josh feel better. 

"Yes, I really do. Jasmine is the only support I have. When I hold Jasmine, it doesn't matter whether I can't see or not, because I'm safe. Even if the monsters come at me and I may die at any moment, I have my little pig next to me so at least I don't die alone. That's enough comfort for me to brave the darkness into this park to come to see you."

"So you have Jasmine with you now?"

"Of course not, I'm not a child anymore. She's buried somewhere in my former backyard," I find his question incredible.

Josh raises his head to stare at me. Royal blue eyes glisten under the moonlight. "Thank you for coming here."

"What was up with you anyway?"

He sighs, nibbling on his lip like a child contemplating whether he should believe his mother that brushing his teeth twice a day is good oral hygiene and not a waste of time he can spend watching Power Rangers. "Panic attacks."

I think Power Rangers is more important than oral hygiene.

Fuck you.

But I am you. If this voice has a face, I'm sure it would be smirking.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Josh."

"I'm sick Eli," he snaps, glaring at his hands. "I'm sick," he echoes, much more quietly.

"So am I," I reveal.

Josh looks at me. "You're just saying that so I feel better."

"I have social anxiety, Josh. There's a reason why when we were kids and we used to go to the playground during recess I was the one who always sat alone under a tree. It terrified me to think of talking to people. Sometimes, I can't even think of being in the same place talking to several people at once. It terrifies the s**t out of me. That's why I never had friends until I met you. The tattoos and scowl are meant to scare people off so they don't realise how much of a wussy I am. I take pills for that."

"I take pills too," he murmurs softly. "My smirk and charm are a defence mechanism. But I don't need to protect myself around you."

"Because I'm just like you," I say, standing up. "Now come on, we still have a prank to complete."

"How are we going to sneak past security?" Josh asks.

I smirk, glad to have gotten past all that sappy emotional stuff at last. "I have my ways."

"You never cease to surprise me," Josh whispers when we finally stop in front of Mr Riboldi's chemistry lab. That's the chem class Josh takes so it's the one he wants to prank. We'll also do Ms Jackman's if we get the time.

"Thanks," I make sure all the shutters have been closed and the doors are locked before turning on my phone flashlight. "So what kind of chemicals do we want to mess with."

"Nothing too harmless. No acids and bases. But we can mess with the reagents and stock solutions so when we're performing an experiment it blows up in someone's face or dyes someone's hair. I'll do the exchanging since I'm familiar with the chemicals. You can be my lookout."

"What an important job," I say drily although I'm happy to not be involved in the actual process. Less than ten minutes later, Josh announces that he is done. Sneaking out of the chem lab is easier than it was getting in. I use a laser to blind the security cameras that litter the courtyard. A trick I learnt in my very short life of crime.

Even though we are safe, we enjoy the thrill of running away as if we are being chased by a pack of hellhounds and we are laughing breathlessly when we finally stop in front of the community park, hands on our thighs as we gasp for air and burst into fits of laughter at the same time. I'm wheezing like a dying chain-smoker and it takes Josh's heavy thumping of my back to get me to breath normally again. The cold air of the late summer night is sweet in my nostrils and we stroll lazily on the pavement.

"What do we do now?" I ask. I no longer want to go back to my bed even though it is much more warm and comfortable. But it doesn't have Josh in it and the idea of parting with his sweet company so soon in the evening displeases me.

His answer is simple. "Burgers."

"Burgers? At midnight?"

"I'm pretty sure Taylor Swift sang a song about it so it must be legal. Now come on, I'm paying," he grips my hand and begins dragging me towards Abe's car which I earlier failed to notice was parked a few miles from our school.

God, all my observational skills are gone. I'm like a regular old Joe now. I need to start practising my blind fighting again. It's a training technique where I wear blindfolds to fight. It does not necessarily 'enhance' my other sense, it just makes me more aware of my environment. I mostly use it when I'm sculpting sober but as you can imagine, that does not happen too often.

"If you're, paying, why not?" I shrug and sidle into the passenger seat of the car. "Does Abe know you took his car?"

"I love my brother and all, but I don't think he would approve of my driving without a license."

"Wait. What?!" I panic. "You don't have a license?!" Suddenly, I'm perturbed about my safety. I try to get out of the car but the doors appear to be locked.

"Yep, it was revoked when I got into texting while driving accident a few months ago. That's when I lost my Lexus. My sweet Abby Lexus. But don't worry. Nobody died in the accident. Which means we probably won't."

I don't care about whatever Josh is saying. My priority is my safety. And right now, I don't think I'm that safe in Abe's car with Josh behind the wheel. "Why can't I get out?" I voice in a frenzy.

"Child lock," Josh says with a devilish grin that is supposed to be 'innocent' but gives the opposite impression. "I suggest you wear your seatbelt. It's gonna be one hell of a ride, Eli."

I gulp, meekly putting on the seatbelt. I don't doubt him for a minute.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for all my sins. I promise if I survive this drive with Josh I'll make the effort to be a better person. I'll even stop stealing my neighbour's pills. Mr Goldberg is clearly hurting.

"Don't fret, Eli. I told you I haven't killed anyone." Josh winks at the last part. "Not yet, anyway."

I'm a dead girl.