"Memory blurs, that's the point. If memory didn't blur you wouldn't have the fool's courage to do things again, again, again, that tear you apart."
- Joyce Carol Oates
. . .
Dahlia
I felt pathetic coming here. I really did. But this was what I had done my whole life. Whenever I got yelled at home, or felt bad, I came straight running to my uncle. But, it wasn't my uncle in that house now, it was them. And they comforted me, too. In a different way, of course. But their presence calmed me down, especially Andros and Hedeon. I didn't quite trust the Monet brothers.
I didn't know who'd be inside right now, though. It had been a few days since Andros and I had ice cream. None of them had texted me, but I wasn't surprised by that. They didn't seem like the people who texted much. Calls? perhaps. But no texting. I still checked my phone like an addict looking for her next fix.
I didn't hate the feeling. But I needed to tear it out soon. Hoping wouldn't make them like me. I wasn't even sure what they liked about me. maybe they just saw a lonely, angry girl and were like 'Yeah, she seems fun to play with'. I didn't even know what they were doing in this town. I didn't even know their fucking job.
I wiped the tears off my face and got out of the car, shielding my head and freshly washed hair from the rain with my bag. I climbed the porch, took in a few deep breaths to calm myself, and raised my hand to knock.
But the door opened before I could.
One of the Elliot's looked down at me. He looked confused, but then his eyes ran over my face which I knew must be red.
After getting out of my parent's house, I spent about half an hour in my car having a breakdown which refused to leave. After having breakdowns for years, you'd think I'd know how to deal with it. But I was as clueless as ever. And I refused to get help.
Because I was nothing if not self-destructive.
Without a word, he pulled me inside the house, shut the door, and wrapped his arms around me. Warmth. I dug my head into his chest. I had hoped for one of the Kozlov twins, but I would take anything I could.
He caressed the back of my head, tucking me under his chin. Why did he smell so good? It made not liking him hard. "Dahlia. What's wrong?"
I sniffled. "My dad is a dick."
He picked me up, bridal style. "Let's get you comfortable."
. . .
Both of them were there. I didn't know who had been the one last time, but I didn't ask. One of them, the one who had opened the door, set me down on a couch with a blanket while the other sat across from us.
"I should leave," I said while wrapping the blanket tighter around me.
"No," the one beside me said. "It's raining too hard, Dahlia. It isn't safe."
I gripped the blanket, setting my head on the armrest of the couch. I felt calm. I felt alright. Just the house working. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. There was the usual anxiety, but nothing excessive I had felt earlier. Did they calm me down? Probably. I didn't want to know why they had this effect on me. I didn't even know their names.
"Do you want anything to drink?" one of them asked.
"No."
I wanted...I wanted Andros and Hedeon here. I didn't want to be comforted by the people who lied to me. At the same time, I wanted to curl against the nearest Monet and cry my eyes out.
What was I doing here? I could have gone to Marie and drunk the day away. Instead, I was here. They didn't even know what to do with me. Why was I burdening them with something they didn't cause?
In my mind, I tried to convince myself I was here for the house. But that was a lie.
"Where are the Kozlovs?" I asked.
"They are busy. You can talk to us."
"I like to talk to people I know the names of." I removed the blanket from me and stood up, or forced it off. "I should go, don't worry, I'll drive slowly."
I walked to the room, none of them said anything but then one of them spoke up. "I'm Alexandre Monet."
I froze.
"I'm Lucian Monet," the other one said.
I turned.
"Who was the one I saw at the wedding?" I asked, tucking my hands behind my back. Their eyes ran over me. Fucking hell.
"Me," Lucian said, smoothly. "I was at the wedding and the bar on your birthday."
"I was the one who bought the journals," Alexandre said. "The one who drove you to the...date."
"Which....which one of you was here the last time?" I asked, hoping my cheeks were not as pink as they felt.
The corner of Alexandre's lips twitched. "That was me, Dahlia."
I could already see the difference between them. Maybe they were letting their walls down like the Kozlovs. Maybe they were letting me see the differences.
I nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Why are you telling me your names now?" I asked.
"Because we want you to stay," Lucian said, easily. He relaxed on the couch and patted his thigh. "You can have the best seat in the house."
I rolled my eyes. This was taking my mind off my parents. I wanted to sit on his lap, I realized. I wanted to sit on his lap and cuddle into him and just lose myself there.
"Go on," Alexandre said, his voice had a certain quietness to it. It reminded me of water trailing down a foggy glass.
Lucain's blue eyes twinkled as I walked closer. I sat down beside him, instead of his lap.
He slid the blanket on me, bringing it to my shoulders. "Can I put you on my lap, Dahlia?"
I gave him a jerky nod. "...Yes."
His arms wrapped around me and suddenly I was very pleasantly warm. My face was flush against his hard chest. I closed my eyes as he ran his hand through my hair and his lips pressed to my forehead. "Will you tell us what happened with your dad?"
Tears burn in my eyes. I shook my head. "Do I have to?"
"You don't have to do anything you don't want, Dahlia. I promise."
. . .
It rained like the clouds had something against us. I was laying on the bed of the guest room.
The guest room had very modern, expensive furniture. The mattress was really comfortable.
Not more than Lucian or Andros' lap. I shook the thought away.
There were only three rooms in the house, so I wondered how all of them stayed there. They probably didn't.
I curled against a white pillow, looking out of the window. The sky cracked and groaned as if in pain. I liked storms, as long as I wasn't stuck outside in one. My town didn't have much of a population, and there were shit ton of trees so it always felt like someone was waiting for you in the dark with an axe.
So I figured that the slight shadow I saw behind a tree was nothing. Stop overthinking.
Till it moved.
I flinched, my breath hitching, and closing my eyes for a moment as my heart rocked. Then, I opened them.
The shadow was closer. I was on the ground floor. He could break the window. He could get inside. I was frozen. I wasn't breathing, or maybe I was. I didn't know.
Closer now. It was a lot closer now.
A scream was stuck in my throat. I tried to get it out. I couldn't. My fingers ached because of holding the pillow too hard.
The shadow's hand raised, the axe glinting.
My door slammed open. Andros was there. "Dahlia, love, what is wrong-"
His face frosted, green eyes looking at my face for a moment and then his face melted into a smile. "Why don't you go find the Monets or Hedeon, Dahlia? I will be right there."
"A-Andros." I slowly get up, clutching the pillow to my chest. He cupped my face, thumbs running over my cheekbones. He gently shushed me. "It's okay, Dahlia."
He pulled me out of the best and gently pushed me outside. "Hedeon was playing bartender. See what shit he came up with."
"Andros, we have to call the cops or something-"
"Go." He kissed my forehead. "Go. I'll be right there, hm? You're okay."
This wasn't normal. This was, no way in hell, normal. Why didn't he let me call the cops?
Hedeon appeared, his eyes wary. He took my hand in his and pulled me into his arms. "A drink, Dahlia?"
I nodded. I could drown in alcohol right now.
He pulled me to the kitchen where Lucian and Alexandre were.
"What's wrong?"
Hedeon's jaw tightened, and he sat down on a stool, pulling me beside him. He took away the pillow that I was still clutching. "Andros is handling it."
. . .