Marked

Chapter Thirty-Two: Scarlett

When I woke in the morning, I was lying in bed. From the living room, I heard the urgent whispers of Dallas and Chase. I was surprised. Those two in the same room? Especially after yesterday.

The bedroom door was closed but I could still make out a few words.

Chase: I'm just worried, I mean—

Dallas: I know you're worried, I am too... does that sound good?

What? Does what sound good? I got out of bed and pulled on a shirt. I slowly walked into the living room. I tried to sound surprised, tried to fool them. "What are you guys talking about? More importantly, what's he doing here?" I pointed to Dallas. "I thought that yesterday would be the last day I saw him here,"

The two exchanged glances before Chase spoke. "Well, Scar, we've been talking," Dallas flinched when Chase called me Scar, like my personality as Scarlett was too painful of a memory for him. "And... We both want to protect you from your nightmares. The real ones, I mean,"

"So, we've reached an agreement."

I nodded. "I'm listening,"

Dallas took over. "We take turns—shifts, taking care of you. Some nights with me, some with him," Dallas pointed to Chase. "We both just want to protect you."

"Okay,"

"Wait, that's—that's it? Just... 'okay?'"

Dallas probably isn't used to quick agreements. "Yeah, I think it's a great idea. Where am I staying tonight? I need to know if I need to pack a bag,"

"Dallas's house," Chase looked pained to answer. Like he didn't want me around Dallas—and I'm sure he doesn't. "Then two nights with me. A night with him, two with me, etcetera."

"And you're okay with this?" I asked Chase.

He nodded. "It was either I agree, or Dallas agrees for me. I thought that I might as well agree."

"Okay, I'm going to go get dressed..." I walked into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of cut-off bleached shorts and a Three Days Grace shirt. I did my makeup and packed a bag. I was zipping up my duffle as Chase walked in the room.

"Listen, I do trust you, you know that, right?"

I nodded.

"It's him I don't trust."

I nodded again, hoping that Chase would do all the talking.

"It's just... Be respectful, don't sleep in the same room as him, and please, just remember me,"

"Are you worried I'm going to cheat on you?" Chase didn't say anything and I continued. "You shouldn't worry. But I can't blame you for worrying." I kissed Chase and finished zipping my duffle. So, when am I going over there?"

"Five. I have you until then."

I smiled. "So, what do you want to do?"

Chase shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it much. I just woke up to my phone ringing, it was Dallas, he said he wanted to talk about your safety, I invited him over. After a bit, we reached an agreement and you woke up. I haven't thought about much else."

I nodded. "I want to drive the Jeep around. I haven't for months now and I'm craving my baby,"

"Did you just call your Jeep your 'baby'?"

"Why yes I did,"

. . .

I took a long drive along the border of Palm Springs—only stopping for lunch and gas. It really did feel great to be back behind the wheel of the Jeep. I missed the uncontrolled wind running everywhere. I missed not being able to a conversation over the wind. Hell, I missed a lot of things about being home.

Around six, I got my bag from the apartment and said good-bye to Chase. I didn't want to spend the night at Dallas's, Chase didn't want me to spend the night there either, but here I am, driving there with a bag packed.

I got there right at six thirty, just as Dallas finished making dinner. We ate—in silence. We watched Dallas's TV shows—in silence. The Dallas gave me the "grand tour."

He had a simple house on the edge of Palm Springs. One bedroom, one and a half bath, simple kitchen and living room. There was one basement. We didn't go down there. Dallas just said that it was all concrete and just had heating and cooling stuff in it. Nothing I needed to see.

After the tour, Dallas was going to bed—a strong term since he was sleeping on the couch, letting me have his bed. His pillow smelled like he soaked it in his cologne. But his bed was really comfortable.

. . .

I bumped into a wall and opened my eyes. I was surrounded by concrete walls and floor. The room was dimly lit, only a bare bulb...

A bare bulb. Four concrete walls and a floor...

This is all so familiar.

"You're getting quicker at figuring things out." My mother's voice echoed through my head.

I turned around. In the center of the room, my mother sat, tied up in a chair, duct tape covering her mouth. Where her hands were tied was blood.

I looked at my ankle. A knife was strapped to my leg. I reached down and grabbed the knife. I felt the urge to untie my mother but memories stopped me. I threw the knife in the corner. I turned my back on the thing I once called my mom.

When I turned back around the restrains holding my mother were empty. The bulb—the only light—exploded.

I was surrounded by darkness and silence.

"It's all right Scarlett,"

"NO!" I screamed. "Dallas! Help me! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"No one can hear you,"

I backed up, hitting something tall and hard. Not a wall. A person. I screamed as a hand clamped down on my mouth.

I couldn't breathe. I screamed—muffled—and kicked. Hoping that Dallas would hear me. I heard a gunshot and my mother's hand moved off of my mouth. I felt a warm liquid run onto my shirt.

I checked over my body, I wasn't shot. I wasn't even close to shot. But my mother. Hopefully dead.

A flashlight turned on and shined in my eyes. I put up my hands, blocking the LED light.

"Oh, sorry." Dallas lowered the light. "Are you okay? Did I hit you?"

I shook my head. "No. Let's go. Please. I want to go back to Chase."

"Okay,"

. . .

I was trembling by the time I got to the apartment. I had called Chase on my way and told him what had happened. I was crying so hard I was surprised he understood me. I was a complete emotional wreak by the time I got home.

I fell into Chase's arms, into his safety. "What. Happened?" Chase demanded, holding me close to his chest.

"I wish I knew, I just heard her screaming. She was in the basement, I didn't even show her where the basement was,"

Chase looked down at me. "Scar, how'd you get in the basement?"

"I just woke up and... and... I don't know, she attacked me and... I screamed and Dallas... he... he shot her. She's dead Chase, dead. Dallas killed her." I didn't know how I felt: sad that my mother is dead, or happy that she can't harm me anymore... I mouthed a "thank you" to Dallas.

"Did you tell anyone else? Police maybe?"

"The neighbors probably heard the gunshot. Someone will call, if not, I'll report her as an intruder and I killed her in self-protection."

I looked at the time. The wall clocks ticked to the second. "I need to sleep. I'll be in bed, trying to sleep,"

Chase slowly let go of me and I walked—shuffled—into the bedroom. I laid in bed, unable to fully fall asleep. It didn't help being able to hear the soft murmurs of Chase and Dallas. Deciding what to do.

They didn't reach a decision by sunrise, I was worried they never would.