Everything is hot and heavy. It'd be better if it was a dream. Alas, the very real weight pressing in on all sides is too real.
He's lucky I didn't scream. I would have once I woke up all the way. His callused hand across my mouth and the hand holding down my arms tells me he prepared for that.
"Let him sleep. I've got clothes for you in the bathroom if you want to change," Rave tells me before slowly releasing me. "I'll be in the living room with coffee when you're done."
"You're the best," I tell him on autopilot as I shimmy out of Dario's arms without flashing Rave despite my shirt's best attempts.
He looks shocked at my words. Honestly Pennywise would be my favorite person if he brought me coffee first thing in the morning so the bar is low, but I'm trying to honor this truce and no need to shoot down his offer of goodwill and caffeine.
In the bathroom I find my freshly laundered uniform and another one of the guy's shirts, this one a black turtleneck sweater to hide my bruised neck. My shoes have even been returned from wherever they were being hidden. A quick shower and scrub of my face that does its job to wake me up until I can drink some of that sweet, sweet bean water. I put it on, choosing the turtleneck and my shirt instead of the blazer and attempt to tame my hair with a comb that is way too fine for my longer, thicker hair. I search the bathroom drawers one more time because there is no way on earth Dario has the luscious hair he has with just this to manage it. A little snooping proves me right and I find his detangling brush and finally wrangled the mess my hair has become into a loose braid that's presentable at best. I may not get asked to be a hair model, but at least I'm not likely to be mistaken for homeless. I look cute, in a deer in the headlights kind of way.
It's hitting me as I step out of the bathroom that this is the first time Rave and I will be alone together without of the others in the room or at least nearby as a buffer. My steps falter.
"Your coffee's getting cold. I wasn't sure how you like it, but it seemed like cream was a safe choice. Sugar's all you though," he calls from the living room.
Yeah, he might be a jerk, but it's always with his words. He defended me when he thought Jaxson took advantage, he rescued me from God when I naively thought I could wake him from a night terror. He's never hurt anything but my feelings. I'll be fine. God told me to trust his actions and not his words. His actions have always been to protect me, even when he didn't like me. I'm not even sure he likes me now, but I know I'm safe.
"Sugar is a must, but otherwise not bad," I tell him as I add a hefty pour and stir.
"I'll remember that next time. Let's move." I follow along to the door while he inputs the code, his body blocking my view so I couldn't get any crazy ideas again. Last time wasn't even me. Pretty Boy left it unlocked, but I understand. I wouldn't take chances with my family or freedom either if I was him.
"Trust only goes so far Princess. Blindfold time," he wiggles his eye brows at me.
"Fine," I resign myself. The black fabric covers my eyes and I shift my weight to one leg as I wait for him to lead me like a toddler through the maze. My coffee is plucked from my hand and I'm quick to protest.
The shoulder to my gut and the heave into the air is not what I anticipated. "Really? This is how we're doing this?"
"Can't have you memorizing my steps Princess. Plus, things will go much faster this way. I'd like to be back before there's too much traffic on the road."
"Fine by me, but a warning would be nice next time," I huff against his back as I bounce along. Stupid muscles. They might look pretty but not when your head keeps slamming into it. Humming as we go almost makes up for the rough treatment, but god I miss hearing him sing. It was only once, but his voice haunted my thoughts when I least expected it.
Bravery is easy to fake when you don't have to face the other person. "How is he?"
Rave's steps stutter. "He was asleep last time I checked. As peaceful as he ever gets," he answers quietly.
"Thank you," I reply. We've got to be close to the entrance. Time has been impossible to measure down here and bouncing around like a sack of potatoes makes everything feel longer.
"Why did you go in?" He finally asks. I guess we're both treating this like a confessional. Kindness through blindness.
"I wasn't thinking very hard about it or I probably would've realized how stupid what I did was," I admit honestly. The clarity sleep had given me was brutal. I'm lucky to be alive and have probably made whatever God is going through worse. This time is as good for me as it is for him. I don't know how I would be able to face him like his wasn't the last face I thought I'd ever see. "I just wanted to help him. That's all." Rave says nothing, giving me time to formulate my thoughts or trying to come up with his own response. I'm probably overthinking things again, but the silence is calm. Almost like I'm here with God instead of his hulking shadow. His silence drives me toward honesty in a way that surprises me, but I forge ahead anyway.
"I didn't want him to suffer alone. He's always taking care of everyone else. Even for the little I've been around, I see it. I wanted to take care of him."
A hum is all the response I get before his arm bands around me tighter and he tells me not to wiggle. Climbing with me in his arms is terrifying for me, Rave barely breaks a sweat.
The dim light of what I think is sunrise tries to infiltrate my blindfold, but it's a losing battle. The fabric is thick and unforgiving. I'm glad I doubled up with my shirt and the turtleneck. It's a bit chilly and the goosebumps on my legs would agree. It smells like rain and I can't help but smile. I love rainy days. At home, I'd be curled up with a blanket, a glass of cheap wine, and some trash tv. Mr. Whiskers had been decidedly absent from my musing as if even he thought my dream day was pathetic. Alone.
Always alone.
Despite his gruff manner, the Rave of late is not bad company. He could easily fit into my cozy rainy day. Tucked into an armchair while he plays his guitar, I can see it. It's not hard to imagine the others fitting in easily either. Dario would be right beside me making fun of the contestants of whatever reality show I was addicted to that week, God would be in my tiny kitchen trying to fix up something to eat while feeding scraps to Mr. Whiskers, and Jax would be judging me terribly for the messy way I had been living as he cleaned up around us. Funny how my imagination was quite active when it came to fitting them into my life, but for picturing a fulfilling life alone it was just sad and empty.
Pretty sure the itch in my nose is the blindfold and not the fact I feel like crying. Definitely not. In fact, I hope Rave keeps it on until I get myself back to normal. Whatever my normal looks like anymore. I've been treading water for so long, I barely remember the feeling of dry land. It's starting to look a lot like a bunker.
I jostle slightly when he sets me into a car. No, it feels higher. Maybe a truck or an SUV. He buckles me in and hands me back my coffee, still warm. I'm not going to even question how he carried both without dropping them or me and just be grateful for my caffeinated goodness.
"You can take off the blindfold in a few miles. I'll let you know when," Rave says as he starts up the engine. He turns on the radio to some classic rock station. Of course, he had radio control last time too. It's like listening to the Supernatural soundtrack, relaxing and I can't help but smile as I sink back into my seat with my coffee warming my hands.
I'm humming along with a song that I know vaguely from Aunt Rachel's eclectic playlist when he lets me know I can take off my blindfold. I have no clue where we are. I didn't even think to pay attention to the turns we were making or how long we were driving. Rookie mistake. Not that it would help right now. My jumbled thoughts aren't even sure what I would do with the information. Could I really turn them in now?
Nothing about them screams that they're doing this for the money. In fact, the very opposite. The money they stole was small change and they could have certainly gotten more with the information they seemed to have on the bank. There's more to this that I'm missing. Perhaps with time and trust, I could learn.
Looking around again, I find I was right. It's a jeep. An older white model and I bite my lip thinking of my white knights. Long gone, but a fond memory, tainted by what followed after. They saw me though. It may not have saved me that day or even immediately after. But they saw me and it was enough to remind me that I wasn't invisible. I didn't always have to accept being treating like Colt's personal punching bag, his doll. I could be a person again. I could be Callie.