Page 32 of Shattered Rhythm

Liv

It’s seven am, and the guys are finally all asleep in the living room.

Last night, after changing into Chase’s clothes, I borrowed a hoodie from the chair by his desk. I couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing my scars and asking me questions, but Chase didn’t seem to mind that I just took it without asking first. In fact, the smile he gave me when he saw me in his clothes made me think he liked me wearing them.

Stop it, Livy.

We ate the grilled cheeses that Ryder brought, and as soon as I took some Tylenol, I was ushered into bed. True to their word, every hour, not one but all of them came to check on me. Even Jaxon stood in the doorway, watching over me. As soon as I confirmed I was still alive and knew my name, they went back outside the room to pile on the couch. I felt bad for them, but except for Chase, they could have slept in their beds if they wanted to.

I couldn’t sleep, though, not with all of my trauma so close to the surface, thanks to the attack. I just knew as soon as I let my guard down to sleep, my nightmares would haunt me.I couldn’t do that to them.So I waited and counted the hours and breathed in Chase’s woodsy scent, thinking about the guys and how secure I felt when they came to get me. I shuddered at the thought of handling that shitty situation all by myself.

I debate what time would be appropriate to pack my things and leave unnoticed. Finally, I can’t take it anymore, so I get up and write them a note, thanking them for their help and care and letting them know I ordered a cab home. I clean up after myself, making Chase’s bed and folding his clothes neatly, but I keep the hoodie. As I leave the house, I smile to myself, happy to have something that still smells like him. It grounds me somehow. My head still throbs, and the bruises on my neck are prominent. It’s a good thing I kept the hoodie to cover them up. I finally make it home and crawl into my own bed. The nightmares are coming, but at least I’m alone and can break down without bothering anyone.

* * *

Olivia

I just got back from my follow-up appointment with my doctor for my knee. Unfortunately, the initial surgery didn’t fully repair the damage and a second surgery is now required to restore full function to my knee. I feel devastated. The first surgery was already bad enough, what with the hospital stay and the pain, but now I have to go through it all over again, all on my own.

The grief has me in a tight grip, and I’m beginning to question whether I even want to go through with this. What’s the point of healing and living if it’s just going to be this hard?

The driver Frank hired for me to get to my appointments, including my knee doctor and my therapist, already knows the drill and drives through the bunch of journalists at the gates. They’re always there, wanting a comment from me. Also among them are Liam’s fans, cursing me out and blaming me for destroying Liam’s life and career, as if it weren’t the other way around.The attention and harassment are too much to bear. I can’t handle the constant reminders of what happened and what I lost,so I retreat into my own little world, where I can try to heal and forget.

The perimeter of my house is guarded by a security detail and cameras, also courtesy of Frank. He arranges for people to bring me groceries and other necessities, but I never let anyone in the house. The thought of having to interact with anyone outside of my bubble is too overwhelming.I could say that Frank has been a crutch for me the last few weeks, but honestly, I pay him enough to know he’s not my friend.

I go to check my mailbox and find two letters to take inside with me. The house is a mess, but I don’t give a damn. I open the first letter, which is just a bill from the electricity company. It’s funny to think about how much I was spoiled before, now that I live alone in this big house. I never saw a bill of any kind in my life before everything happened. I lay it on the kitchen table and pick up the other letter.

It’s a small, yellowish envelope with my name and address scribbled on it in a handwriting I know as well as my own, my blood freezes. Why would Liam send me a letter? How is this even possible?I stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope in my hand, unsure of what to do. Part of me wants to rip it open and see what’s inside, while another part of me wants to throw it away and forget about it. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I tear open the envelope.Inside is a letter in Liam’s familiar scrawl. I feel my heart rate increase as I read the words on the page.After I finish, I quickly dial Frank’s number, and he answers on the third ring.

“Hey, honey, how are you holding up?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“He wrote me a letter,” I reply, my voice shaking.

“Who did?” Frank asks, confused.

“Liam,” I say, my frustration and fear mounting. “I got home, and there was a letter in my mailbox from him. How is that even possible? He’s supposed to be locked away!”

I hear Frank let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Olivia, you know who his father is,” he says, his voice full of resignation. “It’s the reason why he got away with that insanity bullshit. This whole thing is a joke. He’s locked up in one of his dad’s facilities, which is more like a luxury spa than a mental health institution. Getting letters in and out is probably the least of the benefits he’s receiving.”

“First his parents are calling me all the time and knocking on my door, and now he’s allowed to write me?” I ask, my voice shaking, my eyes burning with unshed tears of anger. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m not strong enough for this.”

“I know, honey,” he responds, his voice sad. “But you can do this. You’re the strongest person I know. What did he write? Does he threaten you? Maybe we can go back to court if we have some evidence.”

“No, he didn’t,” I whisper.

“Call your therapist, Olivia,” Frank says. “I think that massive bullshit calls for an emergency session. I’ll check on you tonight, okay?”

“Thanks, Frank. Bye,” I say, hanging up on him.

* * *

Hello Angel,

Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.

I know you didn’t mean to get me locked away. I miss you, and you miss me too, right?

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