Page 26 of Greased

Nicky’s baby girl.

Pike’s Princess.

My girl.

My Scar.

My first and only love.

Right here. On that stage. Singing with her fucking twin brother.

I can’t stop the tears as they fall.

For over ten years, my heart has been shattered into a million pieces. Not a single day goes by where I haven’t missed her. Even at eight years old, I knew just how much I loved her. She just had this air about her.It was intoxicating. To be around her was like standing next to the brightest star in the sky. No one has ever been able to even amount to her.

I guess until we met Scarlett Smith in Australia. It played with me every day just how much this new person started to worm her way into my heart. Not wanting to let anyone back in again. Trying to protect my heart against damnation. There was no fighting with it. I was doomed from the moment I stepped foot on that beach. Fuck, from the moment I stepped foot on Australian soil.

Little did any of us know, it was our Scarlett all along. It makes me question how the fuck we were so oblivious? Rhodes and Scarlett are quite literally identical twins.God, we are dumbasses.

I turn and look at the other guys. I don’t see a single dry face. Their feelings are written all over them.

Devastation, disbelief, shock, relief, confusion.

“It's her,” Sonny chokes out. “Mi estrella.” More tears fall down his cheeks as he turns back and looks at her.

“How? How the fuck did we miss that it was her back in Australia?”

Nicky turns to look at me. The look in his eyes breaks my heart just that bit more. If that was even possible.

I just shake my head. Not being able to find the words to answer him. I wouldn’t have any even if I tried. I’m terrified to look at Dacre. Not sure if the tiny bit of hold I have over my emotions will be able to handle what I might see.

While Sonny, Pike, Nicky and I were absolutely shattered when Scarlett was taken and eventually pronounced dead, Dacre was on a whole other level of devastation. Not long after her death, Dacre wasdiagnosed with severe post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and anxiety. He turned completely into a shell of the person he used to be. Losing Scarlett destroyed him.

He was right there when she was taken.

They had just gotten off the bouncy castle and headed to get a drink when everything went down. Once the men were all disposed of, his Dad found him sobbing and rocking in the foetal position repeating over and over again, “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

He was sedated for 3 days. Coming good for another few days until some dumb cunt told him of Scarlett’s passing where he was then further sedated for another week.

After he finally was able to calm down, he completely retreated on himself.

He was ten when he first attempted suicide.

I’ve lost count of the number of times the boys and I have had to shove our fingers down his throat to get him to vomit up the concoction of pills he took. The number of times we’ve gone searching for him, fearing the worst. Watching him try to pull a gun on himself.

The only thing that eventually seemed to help along with a heavy dose of medication, was music.

Specifically beating the living shit out of a drum set. Music was a deep-seated love we all shared with Scarlett. From as young as six, we would all gather our parents and put on shows for them.

It was obvious even from back then that Scarlett was the centre of each of our universes. We became her ultimate protectors. Wherever she was, we were right behind her. After losing her, we all steeled our hearts and honed our skills to become the ultimate machines.

We couldn’t lose anyone else the way we lost her. We wouldn’t allow it. We failed once before. We will never make that mistake again.

I gain confidence from fuck knows where and turn to look at Dacre. Utter disbelief is plastered across his face even as tears stream down his cheeks. What shocks me the most, is the raw happiness in his eyes. Something that is so foreign to see on his face after all this time.

Each of us stand there, stiff as boards as we watch our girl own the stage.

A multitude of questions andwhat the fuck’srun through my head. But all I can seem to do is just stand there admiring her.

---