A/N: I published a new book, again! It was spontaneous, and something I planned for only 10 chapters or so. The title, Insatiable, is rated 18+ and involves mature contents, so be warned before you click into it ;)
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Three months later
It's finally summer. Probably the best time of the year for most students, huh? Everybody loves a good, long break; showing off their beach bods, partying and just doing whatever the hell they want without a care like how young people are.
Yet I can't help but shudder at the thought of how this summer break is going be for us.
Truth be told, Wayne hasn't been the same ever since he gotten discharged from the hospital two weeks after his accident. He is a whole different person and I tried to tell everyone that. Nobody believed me.
They kept telling me it's just a phase, and that it'll pass. Drew, being my brother's best friend, assured me that he'd seen this before when he broke up with his ex-girlfriend and it was quick before he bounced back. He said that Wayne went into a downward spiral, shutting people out and behaved in the most unpredictably, obnoxious way; and he had seen him recover even from that. He didn't believe me when I told him I could feel that this was so much more, so much deeper than a dumb hoe breaking his heart.
So when slightly more than a month passed and Wayne was nowhere near to getting his shit together, they began to really worry.
I could see that he was in a lot of pain. He had undoubtably broken several parts of his body and movements—even basic things like changing clothes or showering—were hurting him. He often popped painkillers every few hours together with his heap of medicine, despite the doctor discouraging him from doing so.
He was also angry. He directed most of his anger to the people around him. During the first few days, he needed our help for the simplest things and he hated it. He hated not being able to climb the stairs in his own house; instead needing two of his friends to help lift him every single time. He probably hated feeling weak, useless and most of all—broken.
It wasn't until the fifth day or so that he started cooping himself up. He wouldn't care to open the door anymore and never left his room for food. Most of us had to return back to college, especially since it is Drew and Zac's graduating year; so we really try to schedule our time around to cater to Wayne.
Because of his injuries, he was granted two months of medical leave to stay home and rest. That would essentially mean he'd miss his finals. But according to him, he could give less fucks about it. He claimed that his future had ended the day he broke his left arm and hip.
I guess, in a way, I could understand why he was acting this way. For God's sake, even I knew my brother was crazy about boxing. He picked up boxing during high school and trained ever since, making him almost training for a decade. He even came to EVU on a martial arts scholarship simply because he was that good in what he did. Until one day, he woke up only to be told that he could never do the one thing he loved so much again.
I wanted to sympathize with him, I really did. In fact, all of us endured with the nasty things he'd say to us when he was in a mood.
It started when we would drive him to his check-ups and physical therapy which happened twice a week. His car was crashed beyond salvation and was already scraped at the workshop. That was the least of our concern though. It was the fact that we didn't know if he could be able to drive again. I should know this better. I mean, I was the one who had a minor accident before and was traumatized to drive for awhile.
So each time he had to get into our one of our cars and be chauffered to the hospital, he would throw a huge tantrum about it. It was better when he was willing to sit on the wheelchair. But after a couple sessions of therapy and him adapting to crutches, he started finding ways to refuse our ride.
Things like 'don't you have better things to do?', 'leave me the fuck alone', 'I'm serious. With the way you drive, my grandmother could crawl faster than you' and a list of other harsh words he would come up with was said on a regular basis we had to tune him off. If it wasn't verbal, it would be physical. There was once he got so upset that I was helping him into my car by lifting him under his armpits that he threw the crutches away, at me, on the ground and tried his best to storm off.
He didn't manage to get too far by limping before I called up Drew (who just so happened to be nearby, yeah) and he came to assist.
None of us really had a way to deal with him. Whenever one felt like they had enough, we would take turns to handle him admist our own heavy workload that we had to deal with. But there was one person who was receiving the worst of it all out of Wayne's down time.
Ally.
I couldn't even begin to describe how this thing with Wayne changed her. He never really cared to talk to her anymore. She came by the hospital daily to try to see him after he woke up, but he just never seemed to allow her to step foot near him. Albeit we could argue that he was sort of doing the same with us, often chasing us out of his room; but anyone with eyes could see he was deliberately doing it to her instead.
When Wayne returned home, Ally tried to come over several times only to be scolded so badly that she left crying. Wayne would throw the biggest temper whenever she was around by shouting, hurling vulgarities or even smashing things in the house.
I was pretty stuck in between.
I didn't want to make my brother feel like I wasn't respecting his wishes by allowing Ally to come. It was, afterall, his house and he does indeed have the rights to decide who gets to visit. That was excluding the three guys, who he already gave fingerprint access to. He had, too, on several occasions tried to chase them out of the house but they were as stubborn as he was.
On the other hand, I knew Ally was dying to see him. She had been worried from the beginning and kept saying she wished none of this even happened. But the longer Wayne acted as if he resented her, the more Ally believed she really was the cause of it. Somewhere along the lines, she began blaming herself and was so close to breaking down too; if it wasn't for Cass noticing the tell-tale signs of someone who could barely hold it together.
That was the last straw.
That was when I decided, enough was enough. It wasn't just me. We had enough of him going through his recuperation by ruining himself and his life even further. He had to wake up and see that time doesn't stop for someone who fell and broke in the middle of it all. He needed someone to tell him two months was more than enough time for him to process and accept that some things just had to change. Most of all, he had to know and understand that the way he was treating the people around him was inexcusable. It would have been if it was only for the first week or two. But two months. Really?
It was right after my last finals paper that I dumped all my books and notes in the locker, feeling a stone lifted from my chest. It was one thing done with, although I knew I wasn't going to pass with flying colours. I was just glad it was over and I didn't have to worry about it anymore.
We made a deal to all gather at the house after our tests and to organize an intervention once and for all. It was at that point when Wayne had regained most of his mobility. He had done well according to his physical therapist and was informed he could ditch the crutches as soon as his hip cast was removed. His open arm fracture on his left arm was a bit more complicated since he had infections in his open wound. He was told to try and move his arm, exercise it, or else the muscles in there would grow stiff from the lack of use. He was very reluctant about that and never once tried to remove his backslab to do the exercises.
But it was time to stop behaving like a petulant child. And I decided I would be the bad cop if he was going to resent any of us. He could detest me again for all I care, as long as it helped him.
For Ally's sake, I told him it was better if she wasn't there to witness it, and for once she relented. She knew that somehow she was a trigger to him, and if she wanted him to get out of this dark stage, she needed to let us do our thing first.
"Sit down." I recalled me ordering my brother as I sat on the loveseat in our living room. Cass was seated next to me while Drew and Zac were hovering near Wayne, in case he decided to pull a stunt. Carson was on an ottoman.
"What the hell is this?" Wayne grumbled, glaring at all of us gathered there. It had been awhile since we were all in the same room given our busy schedules and the fact that he never tried to engage with us anymore. He was always wanting to be left alone.
"Sit. Down." I repeated, in a sharper tone so he'd know I wasn't playing around anymore.
With a dramatic eye roll, he plopped down on the couch and leaned back like he was feeling indifferent about this. As much as he tried to pretend like he was angsty and hated everything in the world, I knew he was hurt. Devastated. Indignant.
"What day is it today?" I asked to break the silence.
"I would think you know." He answered dryly.
"Oh, I do." I replied in the same tone. If he wanted to be sarcastic or snarky, two can play the game. "But I thought you needed a reminder. So, tell me."
"Cut it out, Kel. I don't have time for all your crap." His tone laced with distinct annoyance.
"Take your time." I leaned back and shrugged. They were all looking at me nervously, wondering if I was going to fuck it up even worse. "Let me know when you have the answer. I have all day."
It was a few tensed minutes before Wayne gave in, huffing. "Fucking Friday. What now?"
"Great." I sat up a little straighter to acknowledge him. "And how many Fridays have it been since the accident?" I dared to ask. Frankly, I was a little apprehensive myself to bring it up, worried that it'll be a trigger to him. But I bit my cheek and put on a brave face. Somebody had to say it.
Wayne stiffened, averting his gaze to a random spot away from me. "What is the point of this?" He spoke in a low tone. We were threading dangerously. He may just hulk up any minute.
When I didn't answer, he rubbed his uninjured hand down his face. "Eight Fridays."
I was surprised, and I bet the rest of them were too, that he managed to remain calm. I expected him to yell at me.
"So, eight Fridays. Eight weeks. What have you been doing so far?"
"Don't ask stupid questions." There was that hint of temper boiling.
"Tell me the kind of life you think you've been leading."
"I had a fucking car accident, for fucks sake. I think I'm entitled to be dealing with it in my own way."
"Sure. I never said you couldn't. I'm just here to tell you that eight Fridays are enough. Enough of dwelling in your misery, treating the people who loves you like absolute trash and thinking the world owes you for the simple fact that you no longer have a boxing career." I blurted before I could stop myself. Cass nudged me with her elbow and I knew I was crossing a line. But I couldn't take it back now.
Everyone stared at Wayne, awaiting his outburst. I was more of thinking he would ask me to get out of his house. Instead, he laughed. Like really laughed. We looked at him like he had definitely gone insane.
It took him a whole minute to realize nobody was laughing with him. It wasn't even remotely funny. After he sobered up, he met my eyes and I could see how dull and empty his eyes had become.
"You know what's funny?" My brother started. "It's the fact that this is the first time, after two damn months that someone had the guts to tell me I could dream about fighting again." He chuckled humourlessly.
I would've apologized for saying it, but he looked like he had more to say. So I waited.
"All this time, I hear crap from people telling me 'oh, you'll get well soon', 'you will get back in the ring', 'you are a fighter.'" He shook his head. "Even the doctor kept saying if I wanted to fight again, I had to start training my arm." He chuckled. "I'm so sick of hearing all their fake beliefs. I don't even know if they were saying it to convince me or convince themselves."
"And how exactly does your actions justify that? By not trying at all, so you can prove to them that your arm is completely useless as you think? Why? Because if you do as simply as move your arm an inch again, people will put things in your head about going back to the ring?" I taunted him.
Drew was standing behind Wayne, giving me two thumbs up behind his head.
He remained silent, probably pondering over the words I said. So I took that as my chance to continue.
"Don't you find it pathetic? That you have to act in such a way to prove them wrong, despite it not being what you want? Do you really want to wait until you lose complete functionality of your arm before you start to regret? And the very fact that you think we are trying to convince you of something by helping you is offensive. We are your family, Wayne. And family don't care if you can fight again. But you have to stop driving us away like that."
Wayne still wasn't saying a word, his head lowered as he stared at the floor. I looked nervously to Zac, Drew, Carson and Cass, not knowing whether I did the right or not saying all these things to him.
We keep thinking we know how someone feels but we don't. We never will. Not until we are in their shoes. So how dare I tried to tell him things I barely understood? I didn't even know if there was a timeline for people who were robbed of their hopes and dreams.
It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. I didn't think we even dared to breathe. And then there was a whimper. Wayne sniffled, likely to prevent his mucus from dripping, and we knew he was silently crying.
Cass leaned towards me and whispered, "that's good. It's a good thing. He's finally letting it out instead of using anger as his only emotion. He needs this." Trust the psychology major to only be speaking at this point.
We weren't so sure what to do. Drew hesitantly placed his hand on my brother's back as we waited for him to cry it out. Soon, Zac joined in, then Carson. Cass and I moved to crouch right in front of his knees. He needed support, and we had to let him know we were there.
"I'm sorry." He muttered under his breath, composing his own breathing.
"You damn right should be sorry!" Drew lightly slapped him on the back. "You hurt my ego!" He placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt.
I was almost afraid it wasn't time yet to be cracking jokes so soon, but I guess Drew really did know Wayne a lot better than I did. Wayne turned around, his eyes slightly bloodshot from the tears, and caught Drew's palm in his—locking him in like a brotherly clap.
"I was half expecting you to dump a bucket of ice like you did the previous time. What stopped you?" He asked, making us chuckle.
———
Eventually, Wayne did get better in small and slow baby steps. He started to move around more, using the stairs in the house to exercise, actually staying out of his room to hang with us and quitted his string of insults.
We were glad to see him climbing out of his dark place, but there were still things we struggled with.
After his hip cast got removed a week later, he no longer needed the crutches to walk. His arm fracture had been healing well and he was also cleared by his doctor to remove his backslab often to train his arm strength.
He was mostly independent again. And we were all happy for him.
Ally was regularly receiving updates from Cass and I. She was, too, regaining confidence about talking to him. I was almost certain that they could get back to whatever they were before the accident.
"Do you think he'll do it again?" I ask Zac nervously. I have been hiding out at his house for a couple days now and the reason is clear as day. I don't know what's gotten into Wayne, but he had decided to open up his house for parties everyday consecutively for a week now.
He absolutely dreaded the idea before, saying he didn't like having strangers in his personal space. We always had the idea that having people over was forbidden, until we found out he had openly put out his address on his social media accounts. We thought it was a mistake at first, but it turned out to be very real. He was just full-on diving into partying now.
"I mean, I'm glad he isn't shutting people out anymore. But really? House parties? Every bloody day? That's a bit much, right?" I rant. "And, what's worse. He has been banging different girls in the house everyday. Swear the other day I walked in on him with someone on top of the washing machine! Oh, god. What is he doing?"
"Using it to get over something. Or someone, in this case." Zac says what I've been assuming.
"All this, just for Ally's benefit?" I muse, feeling bad for my friend. We tried to tone it down whenever she sees a photo that Wayne is tagged in, asking why there're so many chicks hanging onto him, but she obviously figured out on her own.
Zac sighs, placing his hand over mine. "I don't know, baby."