I pulled the sheets out of the washer, switching them over to the dryer while carefully balancing the basket on my hip. The dry-cleaners was busy today, not that I recognized any of the faces around me. They were mostly locals of the area but none that had been at the funeral. I'm sure there will be more when I come back for the last load, people seem to be swarming all public places since the announcement of Rosen's demise.
The citizens aren't scared anymore.
I guess one good thing came out of this mess.
One woman across the room has been eyeing me for an hour while I did laundry and as I made way for the door, she finally scrounged up the courage to approach me. She seemed friendly enough; short and petite with curly hair and thick rimmed glasses, "Excuse me miss, you're the girl with the Tribe right?"
I wondered what gave me away, the countless times these people have seen me riding with the Tribe or the signature Tribe look Corinth dressed me in today. Normally Corinth's fashion sense consisted of skimpy outfits that showed far too much skin for any average civilian but today, she dressed me in a simple pair of black jeans and a grey t-shirt. Even Corinth has been sporting only jeans and sweatpants since ...
I nodded to the woman's question to distract myself from my thoughts and smiled politely, "Yes ma'am."
"My husband and I heard about Dustin's passing but where out of town during the funeral. We didn't know him well but a while back, he helped my husband with a few loansharks who were giving us quite a bit of trouble." She looked towards the ground, adjusting the hem of her shirt as if it were out of place, "We never got the chance to thank him."
I tensed as I always did when someone spoke of Dustin, but kept my tone light as not to offend because I knew this women meant no disrespect, "He never looked for recognition."
She nodded and shrugged, "I know, I just ..." Her eyes turned sympathetic, pitying me like everyone else in this godforsaken town, "I just thought someone should know."
She's right, someone should know. Because even though Dustin never wanted recognition, he certainly deserved it.
I thanked her for her kindness and bid her a quick farewell, escaping with my laundry while the woman looked after me in remorse. I couldn't handle anyone else telling me stories of Dustin's past. Each day several people or more would seek me out, wanting to express gratitude to me since they no longer could to Dustin. It seemed like he helped everyone in town at one point or another, offering protection or money or just a friendly face with a smile. I didn't realize he was so involved in the community.
Then again, there was a lot I never got the chance to ask him.
I hastily made way for the car Sam's parents lent to us where Corinth was waiting after loading her own basket of laundry. I set my basket beside hers and climbed into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh that left my lungs itching. Corinth glanced at me as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, "You okay?"
"Sure." I mumbled, rubbing at my aching eyes. Dustin told me to be strong for Corinth and for Lumiere, and for everyone else. And I'm trying, I really am. But it's not easy. Sometimes I smile even while my heart is breaking and I laugh when all I want to do is curl up and cry.
Dustin said to be strong but he didn't tell me how hard that request would be to fulfill. Everyone else has the luxury of being sad, of mourning their loss in whatever way helps them cope. But Lumiere, Eli, Corinth, and I don't have that luxury. We have to be strong.
Because we lead the Tribe now, and leaders don't cry.
Dustin never cried.
I suppose you don't realize how much you love and rely on someone until they're gone, and it's hard to move on when the whole damn town constantly reminds you of a nightmare you'd do anything to forget.
Corinth said nothing more, she understood that having time and space is better than having a long and pointless heart to heart conversation. Because Corinth, like me, didn't want to talk about it. We'd rather suffer in silence, face our demons alone rather than present them to someone else.
It's easier this way. It keeps us ... strong.
While also tearing us apart.
The trip back to the compound was short with the only sound being the wind rushing in through the open windows and the distant song of cicadas in the desert. This breeze was soft, rolling and tumbling in sluggish aim. Motion without moving. Nothing like the wind on the back of a motorcycle. That breeze was energetic and diligent, racing over itself to be faster than the person rushing past. That was the wind I craved because it was that wind that chased away this heartache.
Like Dustin once said, it was the closest thing to flying.
But sitting here in this car with the hot wind sweeping in at a rate only brisk enough to ruffle the strands of my hair, this breeze chased away nothing. Instead it brought feelings of nostalgia and longing, a whimsical spell cast on those reminiscing of a time they could only dream about. It was this breeze I hated because it was this breeze that brought back memories of dazzling smiles and scorching caresses, of danger and adrenaline, of passion and love.
It was this breeze that rode on each inhale, seeping deep and drawing out images I have tried so hard to lock away.
It was this breeze that was slowly killing me ... and I had no desire to stop it.
The compound gate slid open, revealing a partially rebuilt complex inside. Donovan's office had been removed and the garage at the back had been extended to make room for more bikes within. New brick was dispatched to replaced burn marks that couldn't be scrubbed clean. While the bricks themselves hadn't been compromised, no one wanted to be reminded of the night that still haunted us all.
The night that marked the beginning of the end.
Corinth parked the car next to the line of bikes that followed the line of the parameter, leaving the windows down and the doors unlocked after we retrieved the baskets from the backseat. It was another hot day with a bright sun and an endless, clear sky that stretched on for miles. Daytime was easier but I preferred night.
It was the only time I could see the stars.
"I'll take the hall on the right." Corinth offered once we pushed through the doors of the warehouse. The main lobby was pretty much the same although most of the pool tables had been resurfaced with new felt fabric because the bloodstains couldn't be cleaned. But the tables had been righted, the bar had been cleared of glass, and the cafeteria sat nearly empty.
I remembered the first time I ever stepped foot in that cafeteria, listening to the Elders taunting Dustin. I bet they regretted it now, but I suppose I'd never know. Most of the Elders from Donovan's reign had resigned from the Tribe, preferring retirement now that their generation was dwindling.
The definition of an Elder in the Tribe is anyone left over from the previous leader's reign, so I guess we're all Elders now and I'm sure the next generation will think of us the same way we thought of those before us. An endless cycle that starts so early and ends only in death.
Corinth and I passed under the arch where leader portraits still sat in constant surveillance. A new one occupied the end of the list after Dustin, a photograph of Lumiere. Smirking just like his brother beside him.
Becoming the leader was supposed to be an honor, but it has become a burden.
A death sentence.
Corinth lightened my load by half as we split up, her taking the right hall while I took the left. We've spent most of the day changing bed sheets and getting rooms ready for returning members. All the rooms had been cleaned out, stripped down, and refurbished.
All but one.
It's been almost three weeks, three unbearable and agonizing weeks. Most of it has been a blur, composed of tears and sleepless nights and so much pain that it felt like I were still trapped in one of the beast's visions. But I haven't seen or felt the beast since that night at Reaper headquarters, he disappeared the moment Dustin's heart stopped beating.
The days following Dustin's passing were the worst. I couldn't eat, couldn't move. It hurt just to breathe, it hurt to know I still lived while a man much better lay cold in the ground. I honestly didn't think I'd survive the funeral. If it weren't for the support from my friends, I probably wouldn't have. But it has gotten better since then. Not by much, but some.
After changing the sheets in several rooms, I stopped at the door of one room I didn't dare change. I left the excess sheets in the hallway while I slipped into Dustin's room and closed the door tightly behind me, locking me into a world that was entirely my own.
It sat in silence, as if paused in time. It was peaceful here, everything held still.
Gently, I eased myself onto the bed, careful not to disturb the quiet atmosphere here while I curled up against the pillows. No sooner had I come to settle, I heard the door open followed by heavy footsteps.
"How are negotiations going?" I asked without looking at who arrived.
Lumiere stumbled in, throwing himself onto Dustin's bed in a way that made both me and the pillows bounce with the movement. While I considered this room as a shrine, Lumiere saw it as an escape, but we knew it to be a haven for us both. I fixed the pillows before turning to face my company.
We have taken residence of Dustin's room, spending almost all of our days lounging on the sheets and blankets that still smelled so much like him. Not his cologne or his shampoo as I once cherished. But the very essence of him was in this fabric; his thoughts, his dreams, his voice. His soul. The only remaining fragments of a man we both loved, for very different reasons, but just as strongly in our own unique ways.
This was as close to Dustin as we could get.
And for both of us, it still wasn't enough. Because though it was Dustin's essence, it still wasn't him.
"As well as one might hope after half a decade of rivalry. Chris is doing what he can to help his members adjust to the new terms but there are some who would rather carry on the old ways rather than build new bridges." Lumiere pulled a flask from his back pocket, unscrewing the cap slowly, "I don't know how Dustin ever managed to do this leader bullshit. It just makes me what to rip my eyes out ... well, eye."
I pulled him closer and kissed the eyepatch he now kept permanently over the right side of his face, to hide the empty and still healing socket, "I think it makes you look dashing."
Lumiere chuckled, "I always knew I'd make a bloody good pirate." He was quiet a moment longer, his smile falling then fading all together, "But there isn't much room for pirates in this world anymore. We're a dying breed."
My body shifted on the bed, thinking of the one man who was more pirate than us all and his fitting fate to Lumiere's statement, "Unfortunately, I think I have to agree."
He sighed, stretching out on the bed and tucking the hand that didn't hold his flask under the collection of pillows at his head. A gentle look came over his face as he touched two fingers to the fabric over his eye. A look of remembrance, a look of sadness. But above all, a look of loneliness, "Dustin would have made fun of it."
"I'm sure he would have loved it." I insisted.
Lumiere's laugh was barely heard, rolling his lips into his mouth, "That's a damn lie and we both know it." With his fingers against the eyepatch, he tapped the material and winced, "I'll admit that getting my eye gouged out was no walk in the park but if I could have switched places with Dustin, I would have. In a heartbeat." He looked towards me, lost and unsure, "Does that make me a bad person? To say that I'd rather have him feel this pain than be at rest?"
My heart splintered at his question. He's been doing this a lot since that night, blaming himself for not doing more. For not saving his leader.
"I don't think it makes you a bad person, I think it makes you a very good friend." I whispered, nestling closer to him because saying this out loud made it real and being real made it scary, "But ... I think death is better for him, more peaceful. He deserved peace more than anything."
Lumiere shrugged against the pillows, lifting the flask to his lips in a long swig that hinted at how badly he wanted to forget everything and take refuge in that drunken haze which made the pain fade with each sip and made the void feel a little less empty, "I loved the guy, I wanted him to find peace." He drank again, "But I never wanted him to become a martyr."
I sighed, rolling into his side to place my head on his shoulder, "Me either."
One of his arms slid under his head, propping himself up, while his other arm circled around my back to hold me close. He was quiet these days, still sarcastic beyond average but always reserved, as though in the presence of royalty. He was never like that before.
He's growing into his unwanted role of leader.
"I miss him." Lumiere eventually whispered, tucking me closer because he needed someone to hold onto. Something that was real, spirited and existing, warm with the breath of life. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."
That guilt has been eating at me, slowly but so excruciating as well. Never in front of others did I let the guilt be known, only behind closed doors where I could weep without an audience and where I could feel pain without witness.
In those final moments, it was only Dustin and I. He graced me with his final touch, blessed me with his final words, and granted me sacred primacy with his very last breath. I got it all, I got to say goodbye.
But Lumiere didn't. He has known Dustin since they were children, they spent decades together surviving gang life and causing mischief with secrets and stories than I'll never know. Lumiere knew Dustin so much better and longer than I did, and yet it was I who got those final moments. Lumiere didn't get to say goodbye to his brother, but he was there to watch him die.
Corinth was there too, her cousin laying in a puddle of blood before her very eyes. I spared her from experiencing Eli's death but that didn't help with her closure. Just like her father and her brother, she didn't get to say goodbye. Now she is orphaned, without family, the last of her bloodline. She watched Dustin pass but like Lumiere, didn't get the honor of restitution.
What makes me so special? I didn't deserve those moments with him, I didn't deserve to be the last face he saw before welcoming that eternal peace. No one blamed me, no one thought poorly of me because it was I who shared his final moments. But I blamed myself, I hated myself. Whether they blamed me or not, I stole those moments and I can't mend that evil.
I can't save myself from that fault.
"I'm sorry." It was all I could say, words that didn't come close to explaining how I felt but words that would suffice because none other could offer insight any better.
Lumiere burrowed into me; breathing steadily through his nose, kissing the crown of my head, and whispering ever so softly, "So am I."
Much like the day before, and so many others, Lumiere and I fell asleep together, both dreaming of a superior time when death wasn't so close and life was a little easier. When a man we both loved was still alive and loneliness was only a figment of the imagination.
Of a time when we didn't have to fight the memories of watching that same man die. Unable to stop it, unable to reverse it.
Of a time better than this.
When my eyes opened next, crusted by dried tears and red from sorrow and sleep, I saw that it was late in the afternoon. With the sun burning red on the horizon, the compound simmered in the fading light of another day and I added it to the calendar in my mind, a count of how many days have passed without Dustin. Corinth probably finished her half of the rooms hours ago and I could only hope she was sleeping now. She's taking Dustin's death harder than us all; barely eating, barely living.
But I didn't try to help her as Eli has been. I understood.
Careful not to wake Lumiere, I slipped out of his tight hold and then out of the bed. Before I left, I tucked a blanket around his body and wiped away the tears that escaped his eye while he slept. His nightmares left him exhausted and I don't think he knows how many times I've woken up to him crying.
As silent as the walls around me, I fled from the room and out into the hall, closing the door behind me to protect what remained inside. I had intentions to check on Corinth but when I reached her room and pressed my ear to the door, I heard her soft cries from within and Eli's delicate words of comfort. Better to let her rest and mourn.
At least she has Eli to lean on during this time. I haven't told them how close they came to losing one another, that was a secret I'd take to my grave. They probably wouldn't believe me if I told them and even if they did ... well, there's no need to grieve over a death that didn't happen when a current death still plagued us all.
I went back out to the car, waving at other Tribe members as they passed by. I was accepted here now. It only took a war and the death of a king for these people ... and me ... to realize this is where I belong.
I have kept constant vigil of Toby despite my lasting presence at the compound. With Dustin gone and his people in turmoil, I couldn't ask that my brother still be watched over. So I called off the men supervising Toby's safety and bought my brother a cell phone instead. It wasn't quite the same level of protection but it was enough for now.
We talk constantly if only to keep each other sane. He says our father practically lost his mind when he found out Dustin was released from jail under ridiculously mysterious circumstances. And once news of Dustin's passing spread like wildfire, catching the interest of all local news stations along the west coast, my father's case fell through and he was once again assigned to petty crimes. A demotion I took far too much pleasure in celebrating.
My father, after all the shit he put me and Dustin through, deserved a punishment worse than anything I could concoct during sleepless nights where my demons seemed to grow in strength with my hatred for that man. So to hear that he hasn't taken credit or responsibility for being one of the factors that put Dustin through so much pain, truly made my blood boil.
But I also couldn't be selfish. My father is taking care of Toby, treating him better than he ever treated me, and that is more than I could ever ask for. So for now, I am content with my unsatisfied anger because it meant solace for my brother. And that's all I ever wanted.
Chris once told me to not think, to let memories fade with the past and wash away with the rain. But I couldn't bring myself to embrace ignorance, because that would lead to forgetting. And I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget my father because he, in part, made me who I am. I couldn't forget Toby because even though he seemed okay, he was still my little brother and I'll protect him until the day I die.
And I couldn't forget Dustin ... I just couldn't.
Driving back to the dry-cleaners was simpler with solitude. I appreciated Corinth because having her near made everything bearable. But being alone meant I didn't have to hide how I felt. It was easier to let my emotions run wild rather than conceal them behind hollow smiles.
The dry-cleaners was mostly empty now but I still locked the car before starting into the building, momentarily distracted by the windows reflecting colors of orange and pink from the sun setting in the distance. In those windows was a different world, one untouched by loss or misery. It was in that world I wished to live, to spend out my days until I too was fortunate enough to leave this earth for good.
But that world is for the weak, for people like Rosen who fear inevitable outcomes and people like my father who would rather cause pain than joy.
I am not like them. I am not weak.
The door swung open easily, bells ringing to signal my entrance. The place was in disarray from today's crowd, littered with half filled baskets of laundry and quarters shining in the dull light. My gaze swept across the room and I found that I wasn't alone. One other person resided here.
One person leaning against the dryer where my laundry sat without motion.
"Sorry for your loss. My condolences." He said.
I felt my mouth drop open when I recognized the man, "Chester?"
I imagine he rolled his eyes but those ever present sunglasses prevented me from seeing, "That is not my name."
With the basket still braced against my hip, I stalked closer but only enough to validate that the man I saw now was indeed the same man whom harassed me on the stretch of road after the bus ride, the same man who appeared at Reaper headquarters, "Are you following me?"
"Yep."
I blinked, startled that he so bluntly admitted it. Without moving another step closer, I analyzed his attire. Still dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie, sunglasses worn over a face now carved in grim sorrow. I swallowed, "Who are you?"
"That's not important."
"Well tough shit." I responded, setting the basket down on the counter in the happenstance that I needed both hands to fight off this lunatic, "I saw you at the fight, I know you were there."
He shrugged, "What's your point?"
"My point is that you've placed a lot of time and effort into following me, and you being with the Reapers was no coincidence." I informed through a locked jaw, "Tell me who you are."
"Or what?" He challenged.
Or what? Did he expect me to give him a threat worth swaying his resolve?
I was too tired to meet his stubbornness. A few weeks go, things might be different but now ... now I didn't see the point to entertaining his contumacy.
"Or nothing." I answered, raising a hand to my forehead as if that would stop the throbbing ache. Doc says I have a concussion from falling against the door and then getting hit by Rosen. Headaches have been constant and draining, "Keep your secrets if you want, whatever."
He watched me in silence, expression encased in stone and body so still one might think he were made of marble. He was thinking, weighing his options. I recognized the look in his eyes. Men like him, like Lumiere and Eli and Dustin, they were thinkers. While rash and unprecedented at times, they were always considering the outcome. That is how they survive for so long, analyzing every possible result before making a decision.
"I would have expected more of a fight." He admitted, cocking his head with interest at my exhaustion. He must see the bags under my eyes and the way my body caved inward as if my own weight were too much to hold up. Eventually he sighed and shrugged again, "Well, I suppose there is no sense in keeping my identity a secret any longer."
Cautiously, he reached for the sunglasses, first sliding them down the bridge of his nose before removing them entirely. Vibrant green eyes appeared with the absence of those shades, and it was those eyes that suddenly linked his personality to his appearance. That's why he seemed so familiar.
Emerald eyes, hair almost black, high cheekbones framing his face ... oh god ...
"My name is Brandon." He said slowly, wearing Dustin's smirk, "From the look on your face, I'm guessing you have heard of me." He held his arms out to invite my full inspection, "I'm Corinth's brother, and Dustin's cousin."
I physically stumbled backwards at his confession, remembering the story of how Donovan sent Brandon in with Dustin to keep him safe during his time in prison. But Brandon died, Dustin saw it happen, "No ..." I rejected, holding onto the counter now to keep myself vertical, "You're dead."
His hands slapped against his thighs as they fell and with a deep chuckle holding all the viciousness of his father but also the satire of Dustin, he said, "I assure you I'm very much alive, and in need of assistance."
My mind was racing, my pulse twice as fast, and I couldn't seem to catch enough air, "I don't understand ..."
How is this possible, how could Brandon be here? Dustin saw his throat get slit open, Dustin watched him die. This couldn't be the real Brandon, it just couldn't.
The fraud was impatient, "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not an imposter. I'm the man Dustin watched die." He pushed off the dryer, starting towards me in strides that carried unimaginable power with each sway of his hips. I started backwards at his advance but he rose two hands to calm me just as his figure stopped in front of mine, then said, "See for yourself."
He looked up and just hidden under the defined curve of his chin, I saw a long pink blemish running horizontally across his neck from one ear to the other.
A scar.
From where his throat had been cut.
It was him, it was actually Brandon. My hands tore through my hair and rapid gasps left me flustered while I fired an interrogation his way, "How is this possible? How did you survive something like that? Why didn't you come back? Dustin was devastated when you died, how could you put him through that?! What the hell is the matter with you-"
"Slow down." Brandon rose a hand to run long fingers through his hair. So much like Dustin, so much like his sister. A combination of them both; Corinth's lethal grace and Dustin's savage charm, lazy but mesmerizing, "It's a long story."
But his similarity to the girl I considered my best friend and the man I loved but lost, was not enough to save him from my temper, "You've been dead for almost a year, I think we have time for you to explain why."
"I understand that you're probably in quite a bit of shock and the time will come when I answer all your questions but right now, I need your help."
"My help? The only thing you're going to get from me is a right hook and a broken nose." I informed heatedly, pointing a stern finger at him that trembled with rage, "If you are Dustin's cousin then you must be some kind of freak for pretending to be dead this whole time. And ... oh my god," I was going to pass out, "You were there! You saw Dustin die! You stood by and let it happen, why didn't you help him?!"
He only sighed, as though the subject were a painful reminder, "I didn't know all of that would happen. I was there for ... different reasons. And when I saw you show up to negotiate for Dustin's freedom, I knew everything was about to go very bad. But I couldn't intervene, I wasn't allowed to. That wasn't my task."
"Your task? Your task?!" I was about to lose all sense of control, unruly and fierce fury creeping forward, "He was your family! Some of the only family you had left might I add since your dad burned to death while you were off playing charades, you dick!" My voice rose and in that moment, my wrath rivaled Dustin's in potency and might, "Your only task should have been helping Dustin!"
He was shaking his head, "I don't expect you to understand, you're about as ignorant to my world as one can possibly get."
My anger slipped into my words and poisoned them, intoxicating their effect, "Oh really? Then why would you need my help, if I'm so ignorant?"
"Because you're the only one who can help." He told me, taking slow steps forward until he arrived even closer, with the eyes of his sister that made you wonder how many lives he has taken and the scowl of his cousin that made you realize he has probably lost count, "I can't change the past, I can't bring back the dead. And I am truly sorry you had to witness something so awful-"
"You're not sorry." I spit back, "You don't care."
Both his eyebrows rose, his tongue snaking out to dampen dry lips, "You think I don't care that my little cousin was gutted like nothing more than a stray dog? You think I don't care that I wasn't allowed to help him or my sister?" He pitched a laughter dripping in contempt, "You don't know anything."
If I didn't know of the devious act he has committed, I would have believed him. There was so much conviction and pain in his voice that it was damn near overwhelming to hear. But I didn't feel sorry for him. Not when he had every opportunity to step out of the shadows to help.
My sympathy was reserved for people who deserved it, "Get the hell out."
"Not until you agree to help." He fired back.
I was a few tempered words away from knocking this guy's teeth out, "Why on earth would I help someone like you?"
He dropped two very heavy hands on my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes when he spoke, "Because I think you'll want to hear what my next task is."
"I don't want to hear anything from you-"
"I said I can't bring back the dead." His lips curved upward and in his smirk I saw visions of Dustin. Tears burned at my eyes at the memories, like grinding salt into an open wound. I felt someone's touch and realized that the stranger lifted a hand to my cheek, wiping away my tears while he muttered, "So it's a good thing the man I need isn't dead."
Was it foolish to believe such a thing, "What?"
He said something then, a phrase so small but one that held importance transcending the very boundaries of life. Three words that entered through my ears, falsely registered in my mind, then traveled south into my heart where the meaning of such a sentence pierced my very core and festered in terror both exhilarating and paralyzing. Three words that sent me spinning, and crying, and confused; three words that injected directly into my battered soul and administered a lethal dosage of hope.
Three words that brought back memories of blood and fights and broken skin, stormy eyes and warring sin.
Three words that changed everything.
"Dustin is alive."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tricked y'all again!! Y'all really thought I'd kill off my boy?!? Yes I'm evil, yes I know the last few chapters were rough.
**Now before you all go on a rampage telling me how pointless the last chapter was and how "killing him made more sense with the title and it was more fitting to let him die", this is how I always intended for this book end. So I'll accept negative comments as constructive criticism but don't expect me to make any changes just because you don't like how the series of events unfolded. I seriously respect all of you so much and I ask that you provide that same respect for me as well.
But in other news, you know what this means right?? SEQUEL!! This is going to be the first official sequel I've ever written so I hope it goes well and I hope you all will return to continue Sadie and Dustin's journey ... and oh what a journey I have in store for them ;) more heartache coming soon!
Until then, one last time for Death of a King, please vote, comment, and follow me!
Thank you forever, my darlings!
xoxo