Page 29 of The Puck Chase

Why is he already home? Why wasn’t I here to protect him?

Slamming through the front door, it ricochets off the wall as the screaming finally stops, but I just keep moving, not stopping until I reach the kitchen, and then pain like I have never known lashes through me. It’s worse than my father’s fists, worse than his blade, and that metal bat he used on me that time, and worse than every fucking beating I have ever taken, because for once, it’s not my blood on the floor.

Fuck. There is so much fucking blood.

My father is leaning on the counter, heaving in deep breaths, and when he spots me he sneers. “Oh look, it’s the other pathetic waste of sperm I call a fucking son,” he spits at me in a drunken rage, but my eyes are on my brother.

On my beaten and bloodied little brother.

“Ryan!” His name tears from my throat in a scream, my feet slipping in his blood as I rush to his side, and I don’t care about putting my back to my father, not right now. Not when I’m so desperate to hear those screams that almost just crippled me. Screams are good, screams mean there is a chance. Silence is dangerous, I know that better than anyone. “Ryan, please,” I plead, shaking his small body roughly, before bringing one of my trembling hands to his neck.

I can’t feel anything. Why can’t I feel anything?

My fingers trail along the silver chain around his neck, now stained in blood, as red and blue flashes light up the dark kitchen, and I hear my father curse. Not because of what he has done to his fucking youngest son, but because someone called the police on him, and at the sound of his anger, something inside of me snaps. I take in my hands, stained in my brother’sblood, and the next thing I know they are around my father’s neck, and the only screams that I can hear are my own.

“I will fucking kill you for this, I will fucking kill you!” I cry, squeezing his throat as hard as I can, still screaming in his face.

“Daemon,” someone cries, but I ignore them.

“Daemon,” they shout again, and suddenly my whole body is shaking, but I don’t let go, I can’t, he has to die.

“I will fucking kill you!” I scream, and I feel like my body is being ripped apart. No, I have to kill him, I have to make him pay.

“Daemon!”The voice startles me awake and I find Josh kneeling over me in my bed, his arms restraining my own. “It’s okay, Daemon, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re okay, I got you, you’re okay,” he says on repeat, emotion clinging to the back of his throat in clear worry, as he looks down at me in a panic.

“Josh,” I gasp out on a choked breath, and he gently squeezes my biceps, his thumb rubbing my skin back and forth in a way he has done too many times before.

“I’m here, you’re safe, it’s all okay,” he whispers soothingly on repeat, slowly taking his hands off my arms and holding them up as he sits back onto the edge of my bed.

My heart is pounding in my chest and my body is drenched in sweat, as I look around my dark room and realize it was all just a bad dream. I’m not back in my car rushing home, I’m not stumbling into the kitchen and finding my brother, and I’m not trying to choke the life out of my father. It was all just a bad dream.

There is light pouring in from the hallway, lighting up the worried expression on my best friend’s face, and when I glance up to meet his stare, I know this was a bad one. “Another nightmare?” he asks, even though the question is pointless. Inod shakily, pushing myself up into a seated position against my head board, bringing one of my hands to my chest.

“Fuck,” I breathe, pressing down on my chest like I might be able to control my heart rate, as my free hand brushes my hair back from where it’s sticking to my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I add in a whisper, so fucking sick of being such a fuck-up, and my best friend scowls, but doesn’t comment on my apology.

“This sounded worse than normal,” he adds, handing me a bottle of water, and I take it gratefully, uncapping it and chugging half of it down. “I’m serious, Daemon, you sounded like you were fucking dying in here,” he snaps, his anger not directed at me, yet still I feel it like it’s my own.

My screams were so bad it sounded like I was dying? That almost makes me laugh, because I felt like I was dying. The sound of my brother’s pained screams and the sight of his blood almost killed me, and most days I wake up wishing it had.

My heart is still racing, and I am struggling to catch my breath, as images of that night flood my mind, and I have to close my eyes to try and block them out. “I’m fine, it’s just the time of year,” I grit out, not having to elaborate any further. This week marks four years since that night, and though I have the same kind of nightmares all the time, they are always worse around the anniversary.

“I know,” Josh replies gently, before I feel him move off my bed, only to return not even a minute later, dumping something next to me, before taking a seat at my side. “Here, we can drown our sorrows in our downward spiral together,” he sighs, and when I open my eyes, I find my sketchbook, a pack of pencils, and a bottle of whiskey.

“What sorrows are we drowning this time?” I croak out, my throat hoarse from all the screaming, and Josh hands me the whiskey, as he reaches for the remote and turns on the TV.

“Our daddy issues, like always of course,” he replies, like the answer was obvious, and I smile softly, because if it’s one thing I can count on in this world, it’s my best friend.

Josh is the only person in my life who knows a lot of my history. He doesn’t know everything, I’m not sure even he could handle it, but he knows enough, yet still he never treats me like I’m fragile. Even on nights like tonight, where he finds me screaming in my bed, there is no pity or sorrow, just unconditional support and friendship.

“I take it you’re staying?” I ask, more than used to this routine of ours, and he nods, getting comfy.

The fucker will wait until I fall asleep and then take the floor like the martyr he is, yet still I feel grateful for his presence. Even when I watch as he pulls up fuckingStar Warson the screen, and I smirk as I pour some of the burning liquid down my throat. If it wasn’t for him I’d be dead, and as much as I hate this fucking time of year, I know I need to be thankful for every time he has saved me. Yet it will never be enough to overshadow the night I didn’t save my brother.

“Any word on Cap’s mom?” I ask, forcing myself to change the subject, and Josh glares at me for daring to bring him up.

Ever since he found out Nova is dating his sister, he has been on a fucking war path, mostly to foil the bullshit marriage their dad was trying to force on Maddie. Yet even with his mom in the hospital, it’s not made our captain any more likeable to my best friend.

“Maddie said she’s doing better, but I don’t think they are letting her home for the holidays,” he gruffs, and I can’t help but smirk as I grab my sketchbook and flip it open.

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