That was worse than going home to wallow in my own sorrow and live another day or two. There would be people there. People I didn't know, who didn't know me, who would take one look at my crushed state and make their own conclusions. Or maybe they'd heard what happened those months ago..
"Jesse, I just wanna go home," I protested, hoping to get him to understand I didn't want to go there. Or anywhere, except the safety of my bed. Or the water.
He raised a brow at me suspiciously and snorted. "Don't think I'll let you be alone after that."
He had a point.
Damn the only real friend I had, I thought, even though he hadn't been a friend for a while. Out of every inhabitant in this stupid town Jesse was the only one who would've stopped, realized what I was doing and not let me go. The odds were so fucking low that this would happen that I didn't even realize I raised them by stopping along that side of the river, as opposed to the other..
Then again, had I been thinking about all of that, maybe I would've been more serious in my attempt. This was spontaneous, maybe an attempt at getting someone to notice and offer me something for not doing it, a reason to keep going. Next time, I thought, I'd better be more prepared.
Jesse brought me to a large house. Not large like a villa, but large like it had room for a big family inside. From the outside it looked normal, just a little rough around the edges, and it probably needed a stroke of paint or two. The street was dark, and the porch of the house was lit up by a yellow light on the wall, making it look way more cozy than I knew it probably was on the other side of that tired door.
I shuddered.
Damn it.
"Jesse—"
"Livy," he interrupted, turning around to look me dead in the eye, his voice much less chipper now, "I've got stuff to do here tonight and I'm not letting you out of my sight in your state. Suck it up."
He turned back around and tugged on my wrist with his own as he ascended the stairs up to the porch. Music made the windows rustle, and as Jesse opened up the front door, I recognized the distorted sound of James Heftield's guitar, and I closed my eyes, letting my so called friend guide me over the threshold of a place I knew so little about, yet feared so much.
Fear. What an odd feeling to have when I just minutes ago wanted to let the river's currents wash me away.
There were a few people sitting on sofa backs, tables and ottomans in the living room directly inside the door, all of whom had a drink in their hand of some sort, talking over the loud music. The one closest to us held his fist out to Jesse, who bumped it casually and nodded to the guy. His short, black hair looked messy where he practically hung over the armrest, his clothes were stained black— from oil, maybe— and he grinned as he sized me up with his intrusive eyes.
"You keep your girlfriends on leashes now?" he asked, gesturing towards me with his chin.
Jesse chuckled and raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, before shaking his head, and said, "No, this one's just a friend."
I appreciated that he didn't say anything more than that when it was clear he didn't know, and I followed him through the room into what looked like an office. "It'll just take a second," he excused, and walked around the large, modern desk in the middle of the room, sat down and opened up a laptop. I didn't want to snoop, so as I stood there, literally tied to him, I let my eyes roam the room instead.
The wallpaper had small flowers on it on the top half, wooden panels covered the bottom, and it looked older than the furniture. There were bookshelves here and there, the odd, dried up plant between dusty covers, and a pretty landscape painting hanging elegantly on one of the bare walls. I angled my head to see better, admiring the brushstrokes and colors, though they seemed faded from age.
His fingers tapped energetically on the keyboard, and as I kept my nose out of his business, I noticed the music outside stopped. Jesse swore under his breath, kept typing for another half minute or so before he slammed the lid shut, got up quickly and dragged me with him back out to the living room, while telling me not to worry or stress.
The fact that he told me that made me worry and stress, but I tried my best not to show it. My mind spun around a few times, doubled back and did the same again while attempting to keep me sane, and it made me tired. I was exhausted. My legs could barely carry me any further, so when Jesse took a seat by a dining table, pulling a chair out for me, I was grateful, barely able to stand a second longer.
"There you are, Jesse," a dark voice stated as we settled in the large, now very silent, living room. I tried to keep out of it, but I looked up and saw a scary-looking man cross his arms and stare at my childhood friend. "I was starting to worry, but I see you've got a reason to be late."
His judging eyes landed on me, and I felt like crawling into a hole. It was like his stare was a giant boot, and I was an ant. His bald head shone from the chandelier a few meters over him, and I fought the urge to drop my jaw at the tall ceiling, only to find out it was only that tall over half the room.
Jesse nodded, glanced at me shortly, before shrugging it off and said, "Sorry, something came up, but it's done, no problems at all."
I was curious as to what was done, why it was done, but most of all why this thirty-something dude in a leather vest was so invested in it. The vest had a badge on the chest, an animal of sorts, but I couldn't make out what it was, my eyes were too tired to focus on it.
Jesse was always a nice boy, did what he was told, looked after me and my brother in school, even though he was a year older and had his own classmates, and he never broke the rules. Something told me that he'd changed, that he'd broken rules that evening, and that I'd somehow never be able to escape whatever he did, or these people.. Or both...
"Good," the man said, nodding towards me again, "and she won't say anything?"
"She doesn't know, I ran into her after," Jesse explained. The man looked to open his mouth to ask more, while his dark eyes suspiciously sized me up, but Jesse beat him to it. "Bulldog."
The man's lips moved into a thin line, but he nodded and ignored me for the rest of the meeting. I don't think I was forgotten, though, because it sounded like they all spoke in codes, talking about animals and colors, sounding almost gibberish. I didn't have the energy, nor interest, to actually pay attention, so I just looked out the window and stared at the dark trees behind the house.
Oh, what I'd give to be out there.. To walk across the bridge, end my pain and sorrow that night... but I was stopped. A tiny voice in my head told me I'd be grateful for Jesse one day, but that night I was only filled with rage towards him. Not only because he dragged me away from my biggest wish, but because he pushed me into something I had a bad feeling about. I just knew my curiosity would get the best of me, and I'd probably not let him get away without a proper explanation about this house, these people, and the rumors of it.
Even though I trusted Jesse to some extent, I was hesitant about all of this. He wouldn't let me be harmed. At least not the Jesse I knew before.
My eyes had drooped as I felt a tug on my wrist, along with Jesse's gentle voice telling me it was time to go. I nodded and got up, ready to leave whatever mess he was mixed into, and never look back— my feelings were mixed, a part was curious and wanted him to tell me everything, and another was furious and wanted to never even see the blue painted house again.
I couldn't wait to get home, though, lay under my warm blanket and just... be. That was what I focused on as I lifted one foot in front of the other. It seemed so much harder than it probably was, they were heavy, like my shoes were made of concrete and grew roots to the ground every time I actually managed to rip them up.
I didn't pay attention as I followed Jesse through the large living room again, trusting that he knew where to go, until I heard someone clear their throat loudly. Then Jesse laid his head back, groaned and turned, looking up towards the ceiling. My curiosity made me follow his eyes, but the second I saw who he was looking at, I regretted it.
I'd heard of him, but never actually seen him, yet I knew instantly that it was him. He was the reason I didn't want to go into this house. I'd heard Jesse was friends with him, that they were close.. What surprised me, however, was that he looked nothing like what everyone said he was. The most prominent attribute was a long, jagged scar down his forehead, through his right eyebrow, across his eye, halfway down his cheek. It was clear he tried to hide it with his dark, auburn hair, but I noticed.
And I couldn't look away.
He was leaning against the railing on the second floor, narrowed eyes pointed straight at Jesse and I. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn't want to run like I thought I would if I ever met this man. I was just... intrigued.
"Going somewhere, Stevens?" he asked. Even his voice wasn't what I thought it'd be. It was dark, alright, but not in a raspy, dangerous way, more in a gentle, almost... seductive way.
"I'm taking my friend home," Jesse replied before uttering that word again. "Bulldog."
I kept staring at him. He nodded quietly, just like the other guy did when that word came up, and then he met my eyes. It was like he could see into my soul with those golden irises. My lips parted, and I wanted to say something, I wanted to let him know I wasn't scared of him, because with all the words I'd heard about him through the grape vine I could only imagine how hard it was for him to meet new people, see if they'd believe the cruel words people said that I somehow knew weren't true by just looking at him— but I had no time.
Before I could begin to think about protesting Jesse had already pulled me out of the house, down to the dark street and we were on our way home.