The Road Trip

Chapter 5 - The Beast Inside Me

Chapter 5

The Beast Inside of Me

I flopped down on my bed after taking my third shower of the night. Chocolate frosting and cake is really hard to get out of your hair. Every time you apply more shampoo it gets greasier and slimier and more impossible to get out. I was pretty sure there was still some in my hair.

My birthday had officially been the worst ever. Not only had cake got thrown on my head, but I was also never allowed to set foot in my local Olive Garden again. I was on the 'band from this restaurant forever' list.

After the cake landed on my head, havoc continued to run its course. Alex shrieked and laughed while I started screaming and Trent jumped around. Apparently, when I jumped to my feet I had knocked over my water, which landed on Trent’s lap. He flew to his feet, cursing before bursting out into a deep, annoying laugh that made my blood boil.

My temper flared, giving me the courage to do something I would normally never do. I grabbed a chunk of cake off of my head and slapped Trent clear across the face. For a moment, he was shocked silent. There was a clear handprint on his face along with smears of frosting from where my fingers had dragged.

A few seconds later, I noticed everyone else had fallen silent. Not just my table, but everyone within a twenty-foot radius was staring at us. Me, the girl with the cake on her head, and Trent, the guy who just got slapped with frosting. That must have looked great. By the time I had processed this, Trent had come out of his shocked coma.

His eyes narrowed at me, a fiery passion burning in his eyes. That look alone made my blood run cold. My eyes widened and I unconsciously reached for some more cake. Catching this movement, Trent sprang into action. Before I could move an inch, he grabbed a handful of his pasta and chucked it at my head.

I shrieked, being showered with the creamy noodles. Growling, I grabbed more cake and launched it in his direction. Things...got out of hand. Me and Trent continued to go at it, throwing our food at each other. Alex joined in, although we tried our best to avoid the small child. Our targets were locked and loaded on each other and nothing could stop us.

I'm not sure how long we fought. People screamed around us, trying to get out of our way or trying to calm us down. I ignored them and shook off their grasps. When Luke finally got my attention by tackling me to the ground, I was covered in various foods. I looked up at his bright red face, realizing with shock what I had been doing.

Before that cold slap of reality, I hadn't even been aware of my actions. I had been fueled with rage, blinded by anger. Slowly, Luke got off of me. Trent was being pulled up by Chris, who had also tackled his brother to the ground. We were standing on the opposite side of the restaurant, our families glaring at us from across the building.

A trail of food was left in our path. People were either sprinting out the door or cowering in fear everywhere. Needless to say, that's how I had been banned from the facility. It was all Trent’s fault! His laugh was infuriating. That's what had started the whole thing. With a sigh, I mindlessly started playing with the hem of my tank top.

Suddenly, my stomach growled. Loudly. I shot straight up, my hands flying to cover my stomach. I realized that I hadn't eaten much of my dinner, and my cake had clearly been used for other purposes. Actually, I hadn't had any cake all day. Glancing at the clock, I pushed myself off of my bed. It was only one in the morning, not too late for a midnight snack.

Silently, I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. My parents had gone to bed long ago, so I didn't want to wake them up. Liam had been gone when we got home, but his bag was still at the house. The only question was where he had gone? A light caught my eye when I reached my kitchen doorway. It spilled from my open fridge, bathing the whole room in light.

Why was my refrigerator open? Liam hadn’t gotten home; I had been listening very closely for the jingle of his keys. Slowly, I crept forward. Someone was bent inside, grabbing something from the back. My eyes widened when I realized whoever he was, he was not wearing a shirt. I couldn't see his face and I didn't recognize the red checkered pajama pants. Fighting back a scream, I grabbed a frying pan from its place above me, hanging above the stove. We had a silver wire rack that held cookbooks and had hooks to hang pots and pans. Convenient for situations such as these.

No sooner than the pan was in my hands the person started to stand up. I bit my tongue and swung my weapon, hitting the person in the back of the head. Hard. Unfortunately for me, I hadn't had a good hold on the pan. As the person fell to the ground, I dropped the cooking device and grasped my throbbing wrist. I'm pretty sure I heard a crack.

"Shit." I cursed, "s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t!" The pain continued to shoot through my bone as I clutched it to my chest protectively, fighting back tears. A groan from the ground reminded me of the intruder in my house. I jumped back, sliding to the ground and peaking around the island. The person was still out cold, and it was too dark to see.

Still cursing in my mind, I grabbed a phone off the counter and flipped on the flashlight. I squeaked, not used to the brightness before pressing the numbers 9111 and glancing at the boy’s face. The phone fell from my grasp in shock. Knocked out on my floor, because of me, I might add, lay Trent Daniels. Oh, crap.

What do I do? Just wait for him to wake up? What if he had a concussion or something? I didn’t know how to treat an injured person! I was only seventeen! I started to hyperventilate, my eyes darting wildly around the room. Should I throw a cup of water on his face? Drag him to the couch and put an ice pack on his head? Why did I-

"Addie?" Trent groaned, pushing himself up slightly. I gasped, jumping at him and pushing him back down. He blinked a few times, but laid down, "What the heck happened?"

"I...I, uh..." I stuttered, staring at his bare chest. Why was he in my house at one in the morning?! Not to mention he was topless! Those swimmer abs of his were very distracting.

"Did you hit me with a frying pan?!" He asked with a smirk, wincing. It was obvious he was in pain. "Jeez, Addie, I know I'm hot, but you can't cook me. I'm not editable." I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks burn. Did he always have that sort of smart-ass comment?

"I'm really sorry! I thought you broke in!" I exclaimed, trying to defend myself. With Trent, though, it wasn't much use.

"I didn't have to; the door was unlocked." He informed me, "So, why are you making me stay on the ground?" He started to push himself up again, but I quickly grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down. I was straddling his hips, pressed flush against him, which only made me blush more. I tried to push the image from my mind, but it wasn’t working. “Oh, alright. If you want s*x all you have to do is, ask.”

“In your dreams,” I scoffed, momentarily disgusted by the mental image of Trent and I in bed together. When he winced, I quickly returned to serious mode. "You might have a concussion or something! Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you have a head injury? Lay down?" To be honest, I was completely clueless about it.

"Other than one b***h of a headache, I'm fine. I think." He hesitated for a moment, biting his bottom lip, "See if you can help me up, please?" I nodded, standing up and grabbing both of his hands.

"Ready?" He nodded, "One...Two...Three." I pulled, sending shocks of pain up my hurt wrist. I screamed in pain, releasing his hands and grasping the bone. It was throbbing.

Trent fell backward, hitting the back of his head on the tile floor. His hands flew towards his head, pressing his eyes closed and taking deep breaths. A dull ache had settled in on my bone, I was still gasping from the pain.

"Crap, Addie. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Trent hissed after a minute. I didn't reply but continued to blink back tears. "Never mind, I don't think I can get up anyway. Everything is spinning." He still had his eyes shut tightly, grinding his teeth together. To say I felt horrible would be the understatement of the century.

"I'm really sorry, Trent." I whispered, "I didn't mean to..."

"Just forget about it. I'll stay here for the night and go to the doctors in the morning." He replied, finally looking at me. "You should get some ice on that wrist though. Then get some sleep."

"Oh...Uh, okay." I said lamely, stepping over him so I could get an ice pack. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I wanted some cake, since yours ended up on your face." He chuckled, making me clench my good hand. Maybe I didn't feel so bad for hitting him. “I’m sorry about that by the way."

I frowned, "It's fine. Here, let me get you some cake." After a few minutes, I had successfully gotten the cake from the fridge and put two slices on two different plates, even with my hurt hand. Trent gave me a smile when I handed a plate to him, but the pain still shone in his eyes. Gosh...I must've hit him hard…

"Thanks. Now go get some sleep." He ordered, giving me a stern look. I rolled my eyes, sticking my tongue out at him. No way was I leaving him alone, I would feel way worse. So, I hurried out to the living room, grabbed two blankets and pillows from the living room, and then went back. He gave me a strange look but didn't complain when I gave him a pillow and a blanket.

I sat down silently, placing the pillow behind my back and leaning against the island. We finished our cake in silence. When we were both done, I got up and turned off the light, saying a quick goodnight. He grunted in response, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. Let me tell you something; cold tile is definitely not a good place to sleep. I laid there staring at the ceiling, listening to Trent’s breaths even out until I knew he was asleep. For some reason it was comforting, and eventually, I was able to drift off to sleep.

*

"Focus, Addison!" Mrs. Caraway yelled, pausing my music. The air had been knocked from my lungs for the third time that day as I fell to the ground. I rolled over on my back, gasping for air. For some reason, I had been off all day. I had messed up on 'Express', causing half of my team to fall over, and now, on my solo, I had fallen twice.

My wrist throbbed inside it's brace, making me wince. When I woke up that morning it was swollen with a purple bruise surrounding the whole thing. Mrs. Caraway was so pissed…

"You need to pull yourself together!" She yelled, towering over me. "I gave you this solo because I believed in you! I know that part on the floor is hard on your wrist, but I'm not the one who sprained it. That was all you. Now, we're going to run it again. I want it flawless or your solo goes to Emily." I nodded, forcing myself to my feet.

I really wanted that solo. More than anything. Yeah, I got them almost every competition I went to. But I really liked this one. It was to 'Bleeding Love' by Jesse McCartney, the category was jazz. That was my best category. I was just having an off day.

You can do this. I told myself, getting ready as the first few chords played. As the song progressed, I forced a smile. Mrs. Caraway watched me closely, making sure I didn't mess up. When it came to the small portion I did on the floor, which included a backward roll that required wrist support, I had to grit my teeth because of the pain. My mom thought it was broken, but I refused to go to the doctor to find out.

When the song ended, I was breathing hard. My heart beat violently inside of my chest as I slowly turned around to face my teacher. It hadn't been flawless, but in my opinion, I had done a good job considering everything. She was smiling, so that was a good sign.

"Very good." She said, "Not perfect, but we will work on it more tomorrow. Practice at home too, because we only have a few more practice until the dance competition. Understood?"

I nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"Go home, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." Without another word she left the studio, turning off the light on her way out. I had to feel around in the dark for my dance bag but eventually made it to the dressing rooms. It was really lonely because all the other girls had gone home an hour ago. I quickly slipped out of my leotard and pulled on an American Eagle t-shirt and jean shorts.

My hair was plastered to my face because of my sweat, but I decided to fix it when I got home. No use in fixing it when I was just going to take a shower later. Suddenly, my mind turned to Trent. When I woke up, he was still sound asleep on the kitchen floor, and I didn't have the heart to wake him. But I did notice he had a huge goose egg on the back of his head where I had hit him.

Slowly, I made my way to the front of the building. I didn't really want to go home and find out what damage I had done. As if I didn't already feel bad enough. How could I have done that?! In my defense, he was in my house in the middle of the night. Just as I stepped outside of the front door, my mother’s van tore into the parking lot. Her car screeched to a stop inches from me, the window rolled down.

"Mom, I brought my car today. You didn't need to come and get me, it-" I cut off, looking at her worried face. My heart took off racing; what had happened?

"Get in the car, Addison." She said flatly. I obeyed, feeling uneasy. My mom hardly ever got upset and called me by my full name. When she turned to the opposite way from our house, I rose an eyebrow.

"What's going on?" She didn't reply. All she did was step down on the gas pedal harder. I'm pretty sure we were going at least fifteen over the speed limit.

"We have to get to the hospital to watch Alex." She said finally. Her voice sounded a little breathless. "Trent is in the ER."

"What?!" I exclaimed, gripping the armrest of my chair. The hospital?!

"We couldn't wake him this morning...He was on our kitchen floor. They have no clue what happened. Do you know, Addie?" I gulped, feeling a lump in the back of my throat. “Addison, do you know what happened to Trent?!” I heard her questions, but I couldn’t respond. The only thing I could focus on was the tightening of my throat and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. All I could keep thinking was, this is all my fault.

This was all my fault.

All my fault.

My fault.