Page 24 of Creed

“Creed,” She rasps, her broken voice sounding all woman.

Holy. Fuck. I don’t know why the fuck I expected her to still sound like the ten year old kid that tagged along with Asher and me all those years ago, but Collins’ voice is anything but.

Her voice is obviously deeper, but still has that husky rasp to it when she speaks. When she was seven or eight, Asher and I had rushed her to the ER when we came home from a week-long boys camp for high schoolers. We hadn’t heard from his mom all week and thought everything was fine. But Asher called me as soon as I’d walked through my front door after dropping him off, saying something was wrong with Collins. He thought she had severe laryngitis. We found out that she had vocal nodules that went undiagnosed and untreated, developing into vocal fold polyps and required surgery to have them removed. Her dad dropped off their mom and she waited with us. She felt so guilty that she’d missed the signs.

I felt no pity for her because I knew she purposely spent her days doped up on too many pain meds to escape her own reality, and neglected Asher and Collins on a daily basis because of it.

Her piece of shit dad refused to pay for the therapy required once Collins was healed, and as a result, her voice remained raspy. It didn’t stop her from laughing or yelling or singing though. Nothing brought her spirits down when Asher and I were still there. She was always so understanding and optimistic for a better tomorrow.

“Stardust, you there?” I ask quietly. There’s a noise on the other line that sounds either like a gasp or a quiet sob, but I can’t really tell. A little dumbfounded at hearing her voice, I wait silently to see if she’ll say anything else. I glance over and notice the object that fell from the letter in the middle of my bed. I pick it up and it’s like all the air is sucked from my lungs.

It’s a polaroid picture of Collins laying on her back in the grass, her long white-blonde hair fanned around her like a golden halo, one arm stretched out before her as she snaps the photo. Her green eyes illuminated by the flash of the camera have them nearly sparkling. The features of her once round face are now sharp, defined, and beautiful. She’s not smiling, but she’s not frowning either. My eyes involuntarily get stuck on her lips that rest in a perfect, full pout that sits just below an adorable pert nose. A small septum piercing glints beneath her nose as well. She’s got more freckles smattered across her high cheekbones and nose, and a few more dot her forehead than she had when she was a kid. In the photo she’s wearing a loose-fitted tank that says Fuck This Life in a blackletter text with a skeleton’s hand curled into a fist with the middle finger pointed. The sleeveless top shows off what looks like to be an elegant floral tattoo that trails down her exposed left shoulder to nearly her elbow.

I feel like I have no idea who the fuck I’m looking at right now. Certainly not little Stardust. Definitely not the little kid with tangled hair and pallid skin, wearing poorly fitting clothing that looked as if a unicorn vomited all over them. No. This…fucking woman is temptation personified.

I look down from the photo to notice that my dick has started to harden behind my boxers.

Uh.

No.

Fucking nope.

Nuh-uh.

Suppress that shit right away.

When I feel a little more in control of myself, I glance at the picture again, my eyes settling on her face, her bright green eyes. Her almond shaped eyes look so expressive, yet at the same time she looks… empty. Though her eyes are bright, they look far-off, vacant.

She sighs and the soft sound breaks me from the trance I’ve fallen into while staring at this polaroid of her.

“What do you want, Creed?” She whispers, breaking me from the trance this picture of her has put me in.

I have to force myself to look away from this whole new person in the polaroid I’m currently gripping tightly to focus on what she just asked me.

What do I want? She fuckin’ serious?

The letter is two weeks old and not only had she fucking begged me for help, she had also mentioned it was her birthday soon. I pull my phone away and swipe to check the date and sure enough, it’s May 28th…Collins’ birthday.

Her eighteenth birthday. She’s officially aged out of the foster system, and it hits me that I can finally get her out of that shitty town to start over, but would she even let me at this point? She seemed so fucking disappointed in me in her letter, and then I never answered her because I didn’t even have my fucking mail. I push away the guilt that gnaws at my gut at not only forgetting that today is her birthday, but also that awful feeling of failing her when she needed me.

Fuck. What is wrong with me?

“What do you mean, what do I want? I just read your letter, Collins.” I scrub a hand down my face before spinning the silver hoop in my nose. A nervous habit of mine as I start talking frantically. “I’m fucking worried about you and I want to help you. I can get you out. Keep you safe. Please. Tell me. Where are you? I can even get you into a hotel under a different name so you’ll be safe until I can get to you. Just tell me where you are Collins, I’m com?—”

Her laugh cuts me off, but it’s quiet and humorless. Haunting. “Keep me safe? You’re a little late for that, Creed.”

I drop my phone at my side as I send a silent “Fuck!” into the silent space of my bedroom before lifting it back to my ear. I hate that this is how I’m hearing her for the first time in eight years. Completely devoid of emotion. Jaded. Empty.

My heart fucking sinks.

“What do you mean too late, Stardust? Tell me where you are.” I repeat, putting her on speakerphone to text Bear to have him reserve our band’s jet so I can fly out and go get her.

Hearing her sharp intake of breath over me calling her by her nickname has a small kernel of hope sprouting in my mind. But she quickly quells that emotion when she speaks.

“I mean just that, Creed. It’s a little too late for that. But it’s okay,” She placates, “Because I survived. On my own. And…I aged out today. I fucking saved myself.” Her voice cracks on the last word before a sob wrenches through her.

I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound and hang my head. “I—I am so, so fucking sorry, Stardust?—”

---