Pacifier

🍒 Camille 🥀

"Clear the desk," i watched as my brother carried Jakes limp body into the study, staggering beneath the weight of him. The poor lad was out cold and the longer I watched the scene unfold the more certain I became.

"Hes already dead," i said quietly, not loud enough for any of them to hear over my brother who was shouting out orders. He was always good at doing this. Taking over in desperate situations. Leading the younger lads through as calm as he could.

"Dylan what happened?" asked Larry near enough to me that the second time I said it someone heard.

"He's already dead,"

Larry looked at me, a frown staining his features for all of two seconds before he realised what I'd said.

"I don't know..." started Dylan but that was a lie, he knew exactly what had happened he was simply traumatised. His mind was confusing him as a coping mechanism, by this time tomorrow he'd either remember it vividly or not at all, but right now none of it mattered.

His little brother was dead.

"Hot water, we need hot water, get the vodka out Bob, the pure stuff aye," shouted Benji, his voice seeming to ricochet around the room.

"Camille," Van called me up to the desk where Jake now lay, his shirt ripped open to reveal so many bullet wounds. Too many bullet wounds.

He was leaking blood like a field of poppy's, red like watercolour impressionism on his chest.

I shook my head.

"Van," I said, they were all too busy rushing around, electric panic buzzing between them, they were all desperate to save him, but i was certain.

I was stood one side of the desk, Van was stood the other. We were watching one another closely. He already knew what i was going to say.

When i took Jakes wrist in my hand and waited, I knew.

I had known the moment the front door had burst open, the two boys stumbling forward out of the dark and into the light.

Because they'd brought a darkness in with them. A shadow like no other. Unmistakable death.

Theyd brought death home with them and into the balcony, and Jake was already dead.

He lay helpless on the desk, his chest still, his pulse still. The lads all too fired up, adrenaline blinding them to the facts.

"Van," i said a little louder, eyes locking with his. He knew the minute our eyes met but he held my gaze for a minute too long, as if he didn't want to believe it. As if he couldn't. Challenging me to change my mind.

But I knew.

"He's already dead," i said it again, silencing the room this time, silencing the room as the static bristled between me and Van. Between Dylan and I.

"Try," said Van, his jaw tight, his eyes steely, glazing over. When I said nothing, simply stood still holding his gaze he cracked, raised his voice just enough to shake the place. "I said try Camille!" he ground his teeth but i shook my head again, subtle shake but a shake all the same. A defiance all the same.

I watched Vans breathing grow heavier, I watched the anger rise in him but i stood my ground all the same, and in the end it wasn't Van who changed my mind, it was my brother.

Benji grabbed my wrist and caught my attention, head snapping round to see him, stood close, his own teeth gritted.

"For Dylans sake Camille, just fucking try," he growled his own face taught with anger, with stress, with pain.