Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Read online

  All have their own stories, though.

  Everyone does when you really think about it.

  It’s something I’ve learned while I’ve been here. That I’m not as alone as I once thought.

  “Kale, leave her alone,” I say as I dig a soda out of the fridge.

  Kale’s shoulders slump as he sets the pencils down on the table. “Whatever.” He sulks out of the kitchen.

  Fiona flips him the bird then she smiles sweetly at me. “Thank you, Ayden. You’re the best brother ever.”

  I pop the tab on the can, feeling the slightest bit of guilt churn in my gut as I think of my brother and sister, and the paper Lyric showed me with the tattoo on it.

  “What are you working on?” I change the subject as I peek at her drawing. It’s of a butterfly—most of them are. “That’s actually really good.” It’s the truth, too. The girl is damn talented at drawing. Equally as good as Lyric and her mother, which says a lot.

  “I know. I just wish I could get the butterfly out of my head and draw something else.” She sits down and plucks up the pencil. “I can never seem to stop thinking about them. It’s like a dream stuck in my head.”

  My brows furrow. “Is it something from your childhood maybe?”

  “Could be.” That’s all she gives me, and I will never, ever press her to tell me more when it’s clear she doesn’t want to. “Do you think I’ll be able to be an artist one day?”

  “I think you can be whatever you want,” I repeat the words Lila keeps saying to Kale when he asks her a similar question about being a comic book artist. “As long as you work hard.”

  Fiona works on shading in the wings while humming a song under her breath. “Do you think Mrs. Scott would give me art lessons? She’s super good at painting and stuff. And I want to learn to do that. I mean, I like drawing, but I think it’s time for an upgrade.”

  “You could always ask her,” I say, trying not to think about Lyric going out with that douche tonight, yet it creeps into my mind and leaves a foul feeling in the pit of my stomach, almost as heavy as when I saw that paper she handed me.

  This William asshole has a reputation for treating girls like shit. It’s guys like him that will burn Lyric’s feisty, trusting, carefree inner fire right out of her. And while that fire has gotten me in trouble quite a few times, I never, ever want it to burn out. It’s what got me breathing again, brought me back to life, keeps me breathing. As selfish as it makes me sound, I want Lyric all to myself. I just wish I could give her a little of what she gives me back, instead of freaking out on her all the time.

  I sneak up to my bedroom and jot some of my thoughts about Lyric into a notebook. It’s something I started doing six months ago when my therapist suggested I find a way to clear out my head. I think that he was aiming more along the lines of a journal, but the pages are filled with song lyrics than my inner thoughts and desires.

  Tucking the notebook back into the dresser drawer, I grab my guitar and jog down the stairs. Lila is filling up a pot under the faucet when I enter the kitchen, and fresh vegetables and seasonings cover the counters. She’s obviously planning a big meal, so now I feel guilt-ridden about going to the party.

  “I’m going to band practice,” I tell her as she shuts the water off. “It’s still okay if I take the car, right?” I’ve been a little offish since I overheard the conversation between her and Ethan. I’m not sure why, but it feels like they’re keeping something from me about myself or my brother and sister.

  “Do you know what time you’re going to be back? I want to make sure I have dessert ready and everyone settled down for movie time.”

  “About that . . .” I shift my guitar case into my other hand. “I was kind of wondering if maybe I could go to a party after band practice.”

  She carries the pan full of water to the stove. “Is it the one Lyric went to with that William guy?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “Micha mentioned something about it just a few minutes ago.” She switches the heat up on the stove. “He wanted to know if you were going. I think he’s not handling this whole Lyric dating thing very well and wanted you to check up on her.”

  “So, is it okay if I go?” I ask, opening the fridge to grab another soda. “I mean, I can come home if you want me to. In fact, maybe I should. I promised you guys a movie night.”

  She sighs as she rounds the counter toward me. “Ayden, you don’t need to please us all the time.” She circles her arms around me as I’m pushing the fridge door shut. “Go to the party.”

  I hold my breath and awkwardly pat her back, my grip on the soda can nearly crushing the metal. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She pulls back, retrieves the car keys from her pocket, and drops them into my palm. “Just do me a favor. When you get there, check on Lyric, and then text me so Micha will stop sending me texts.”

  “Okay, that I can do.” I enfold my fingers around the keys. “But can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Of course, sweetie. You can ask me anything. You know that.”

  I wasn’t planning on asking her today, but after the tattoo thing brought up unwanted memories, I need to know for my own sanity. “I was just wondering if you found anything out about my brother yet? I know you said we’d check back when he was eighteen, and now he is, so . . .” I clutch the handle of my guitar case as her skin pales.

  “Oh, Ayden.” She embraces me so tightly the air gets ripped from my lungs. “I’m sorry . . . I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just couldn’t figure out how. I guess he ran away from the last foster home he was at, which was over a year ago. No one’s seen or heard from him since.”

  My fingers ball into fists, the sharp edges of the keys slicing into my skin. I want to grasp onto her. Cry. But I can’t do that—can’t let go in that kind of way—so I pull back.

  “Okay, thanks for trying.” I start for the door, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “Ayden, are you going to be okay?” she calls after me.

  “Not really.” The truth slips from my lips, but before she can utter anything else, I’m out the door.

  Two hours later, I’m feeling a tad bit better. Playing always does that for me. It helped me to stop thinking of my brother and worrying about Lyric. Lyric also text me, saying she wants to meet up and wasn’t feeling William, which made me twistedly happy inside. I had text her back, replying okay, but she still hasn’t responded. That’s Lyric, though. She’s probably gotten sidetracked by someone.

  Sage and Nolan are in the car with me as we roll up to the house in Lila’s BMW. The fancy car blends in with the rest of others parked around the house. No surprise, since the house is a freaking mansion. I mean, the home I live in is pretty fucking big, but this damn thing looks like it has three stories and a basement. I’m never going to find Lyric here.

  I’ve already sent her multiple texts by the time I enter the home, but she still hasn’t responded. As soon as I step foot into the foyer, I discover why. The music is blaring so loud the floors and windows are vibrating.

  “Dude, this music sucks balls!” Sage yells over the noise, pulling a repulsed face at a machine pouring fog across the dance area, like we’re in a freaking club or something. He rakes his hand through his hair. “I need a fucking drink.”

  As he vanishes into the crowd and the smog, Nolan stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to go find Anna. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I can take care of myself, man,” I say, even though the amount of people crammed into the room is making me feel as if the walls are closing in. This is the last thing I needed tonight after finding out Lila couldn’t find anything out about my brother.

  I need to find Lyric and get the hell out of here.

  “But I know how you get in crowds!” Nolan has to yell in order for me to hear him over the song. “And around people!”

  I wave him off. “I’ll be fine. Go get some.”

  He grins then the crowd swallows him up
as he dives into the insanity.

  I start my search for Lyric, pushing my way through sweaty, intoxicated people, until I manage to find the enormous kitchen that could easily be as big as the entire top floor of my house. I ask if anyone has seen her, but since I usually don’t speak until I have to, it’s apparent that’s made the people I go to school with skittish around me.

  Finally, I stumble across Maggie. She’s near the dance area with a cup in her hand, her attention fixed on a short, stocky guy that looks like he’s in college.

  I squeeze past people, moving in her direction across the room. Everyone is dancing, and I get rubbed up on more than once. Add the smoke in the air, and I feel like I’m going to suffocate to death. I still keep going, though, telling myself to suck it up. That this isn’t the past. Just a party. Nothing more. But images of my brother and I chained to that damn wall creep up and stab me in the brain. It feels like my skull is bleeding. All I want to do is find a place to curl up and cry.

  He disappeared without a trace.

  Gone to who knows where.

  Lost in a sea of people.

  Who will never understand.

  Maybe he isn’t just lost, though.

  Fuck, what if he’s dead?

  “Hey, have you seen Lyric?” I ask when I manage to get beside Maggie, one of the few people who aren’t afraid of me.

  Her drunken gaze lights up as she scans me over from head to toe. “Hey, sexy. I feel so special. You never come to parties.”

  The stocky guy she’s with gives me a nasty look, like I’m trying to cramp his style. But one good thing about my intimidation factor is when I retaliate with a dirty look, he backs off.

  “I thought I’d come and see what this whole thing was about,” I lie. “But I need to find Lyric and check in on her. I promised I would.”

  “You are so good to her. I wish I had someone like you for myself.” She trails her fingers up and down my stomach then flattens her palm against my chest.

  As memories prickle at the back of my mind, I almost shove her.

  Breathe, just breathe.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  Into the light, out of the dark.

  To the life with Lyric.

  Where no one can touch you.

  Break you apart.

  Where you don’t have to see or feel.

  What was done to you.

  What destroyed you.

  I inch out of her reach, and her hand remains suspended in the air as her brows dip.

  “Look, I really need to find Lyric,” I tell her, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from pushing her away.

  Her face bunches up as she frowns. “The last time I saw her, she was heading into one of the bedrooms with William.”

  My heart hammers inside my chest, my eardrums ringing louder than the song. “Where is this bedroom?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean to, but seriously, what the hell is Lyric thinking going into a bedroom with William Stephington?

  Maggie points her finger toward the back of the house. “It’s back there, down the hallway.” She swigs a mouthful from the cup in her hand. “God, Ayden, you need to chillax. She can go back to a room with a guy without your permission.”

  I scowl at her then start shoving through the crowd, roughly pushing people out of my way. It takes me a few minutes to get to the hallway Maggie pointed to, but I manage. The first door I open is a closet. The next is a bedroom, but it’s empty, so I try the next one. And the next. All are vacant, except for the last one, which has a couple occupying it. They’re going at it like rabbits, and I get an eyeful before I get the door shut.

  What the hell am I doing? If Lyric is back here doing something with William, then what? I’m going to walk in and tell her to stop? Then she would get pissed off at me, and honestly, I don’t think I could handle seeing her doing that with a guy.

  Giving up on the bedrooms, I spin back around and make a path for the kitchen again. Halfway down the hall, my phone vibrates from inside my pocket. I pause to fish it out and exhale a breath of relief when I see the text is from Lyric.

  Lyric: U didn’t by chance come to the party, did u?

  Me: Yeah, I’m here right now. Where r u?

  Lyric: In the bathroom.

  Me: Okay, meet me in the kitchen when u come out.

  Lyric: I can’t.

  Me: Can’t what? Meet me in the kitchen?

  Lyric: No, come out of the bathroom.

  Me: R u sick?

  Lyric: No.

  Me: Then what’s wrong?

  When she doesn’t respond, I grow anxious.

  Me: R u hurt?

  Lyric: Kind of.

  Me: Lyric, where the fuck r u?

  Lyric: I’m in the bathroom on the second floor near the start of the hallway. But, Ayden, u don’t need to come up here. I’m fine.

  Like hell I don’t.

  I knock people out of the way as I storm back through the kitchen and toward the massive spiral stairway that coils to the second floor. Different scenarios play in my head as my mind goes wild, trying to figure out what happened. With Lyric, it’s hard to say. The girl is a freaking daredevil, but for some reason, I’m betting this has to do with William.

  The top of the stairs is much quieter and less populated. Only a group of seven or eight are lurking around, drinking and smoking, including Sage.

  “Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?” I ask him as he takes a deep hit from a joint.

  He coughs smoke in my face as he exhales, passing the rolled up paper to the next guy. “Sorry, about that,” he says as I fan my hand in front of my face. “Yeah, it’s the fifth door down, but I wouldn’t bother. Some chick’s been locked in there for like an hour.”

  I’m off before he can even finish his sentence, rushing past doors. When I reach the fifth one, it’s locked, so I bang my fist against the heavy wood.

  “Lyric, open the door. It’s me.”

  A beat goes by before I hear the lock click. I push the door open and step into the dark, narrow room. Moonlight trickles in from the window above the bathtub, highlighting Lyric’s silhouette.

  “Why the hell do you have the light off?” I feel around on the wall until my fingers brush against the switch. I flip it on, blinking against the bright light.

  “You were right,” Lyric says, only her voice sounds so wrong, like it’s excruciating to speak, which might be because she has a swollen lip. “I’m way too trusting for my own good.”

  My lips part in shock at the sight of her. Her cheeks are enflamed and one of the straps of her dress is missing, as if someone ripped it off. The front has fallen down, too, so I can see the top of her bra. Her blond hair is tangled around her pained face and mascara and tears stain her cheeks.

  She cups her hand to her cheek. “God, my face fucking hurts.”

  That yanks me out of my trance.

  “What the hell did he do to you?” I pause when her fingers drift to the hem of her dress.

  God, no. Please don’t let it be that. I don’t know if I can handle that. It’ll be too much, and I need to be able to handle this for her.

  “Did he . . . ?” I can’t even say it aloud, as I’m pulled away to a different time, place, life that binds me at the wrists and slices my flesh open.

  I don’t want to remember it.

  Please.

  Don’t let me remember it.

  Right now.

  Ever.

  She shakes her head, hugging her arms around herself. “No, he didn’t get that far.”

  My breathing comes out ragged as I battle to stay calm. “Where is he?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably icing his balls.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Huh?”

  “Well, I did kick him there enough times that he probably won’t be able to have children anymore,” she says matter-of-factly, her eyes lacking so much emotion it kills me to look at them.

  I miss her fire. Her life.

  He better
not have stolen that away from her.

  Taken anything away from her.

  I pierce my nails into the flesh of my palms. “How did you get the fat lip and the welt on your cheek?”

  She lowers herself onto the shut toilet then drops her head into her hands. “I thought we were going outside and realized too late he was taking me to a bedroom. When we got in there, he locked the door and shoved me down on the bed. I hit my face on the headboard and bit my lip.”

  I cautiously inch past the sink toward her. “What about your dress? How did it . . . get torn?”

  Her breathing quickens and her bottom lip quivers. “I said he didn’t rape me, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try.” She drags her fingers down her face as she stares helplessly at me. “God, I’m so stupid. You were right. I do think too much with my heart.”

  Something snaps inside me. Breaks. Shatters. I’m not sure if it’s because she doubts her heart, or that he tried to rape her. Whatever it is, I can’t stop the thoughts from emerging.

  House of locks. Walls of metal.

  Searing pain. Scorching into me.

  Branded forever, like bleeding ink.

  I suck in an uneven breath.

  William is going to fucking pay for what he did.

  “I’ll be right back.” My voice is low and controlled, despite the fact that I feel more out of control than I ever have. I reel around and yank the door open.

  “No, Ayden, don’t,” Lyric begs, hopping up from the toilet and chasing after me.

  But I storm out the door, slamming it behind me with only a single thought in my mind.

  Make William pay.

  Protect Lyric.

  Like no one ever did for me.

  I find the douche bag in the kitchen, near the drink section, chatting with some girl from our school, standing a bit awkwardly as he throws back a shot.

  Of course he’d be with a fucking girl.

  He spots me when I’m about two steps away from him, and by the way the color drains from his face, I can tell he knows why I’m here, and he’s afraid. He fucking should be. I had been good at refraining from violence for a while, but I’m making an exception right now for Lyric.

  I don’t even slow down as I reach him, my feet keeping momentum as I crane my arm back. He starts to stagger back into the counter, but not quick enough, and I bash my knuckles straight into his nose. There’s a crack then blood streams from his nostrils, and then he crumples to the floor. The crowd creates a gap as people skitter away from the scene, some cursing, and a few girls even start crying.