Hope does not wake up.
~~~
There is a knock at the door, and Eden bursts off the couch. His feet shuffle over the ground to the doorway. Trembling hands reach up to adjust his hair so that it hopefully isn't sticking up every which way.
He takes a second to breathe and opens the door. His chest deflates.
It's only Lee.
"Are you going to let me in, or..." Lee trails off, trying to keep her cool. She finds herself wringing her hands over and over, a gesture that is otherwise unfamiliar to her. It takes a second for Eden to step aside.
Lee doesn't enter further than inside than the doorway. This place looks like a frat house. There is a collection of empty liquor bottles on top of the cabinets, which threaten to tip off and shatter against the cheap carpet at any moment.
Though he wants nothing more than to leave, because he had hoped after his confrontation with Liam that he would never have to see anyone else like him again, Eden doesn't move. Unfortunately, Lee still exists, and she is still rattling his universe.
"Percy wasn't answering the door," Lee tells him, purposefully. There is no way that she is going to let him think that she came here because he matters to her. "Sorry, I wasn't exactly keen to go back to my place after... that."
"Were you shot?" Eden asks, making his way over to the couch. He raises an eyebrow at her.
Lee crosses her arms over her chest. "You've got no tact, Eden Connor. None at all. I'm fine, thanks for asking. And no I wasn't shot, I got fucking lucky. I've got Hope to thank for that, I imagine. Also, who's blood is all over the back table? They think that somebody dragged out a body."
"Just Wes's," Eden reflects, shaking his head back and forth.
Lee begins to kick off her shoes. Slowly, she shrugs off her leather jacket, her hands shaking as she pulls the sleeves away from her pale arms. Eden tries his best not to stare at her, but he's never seen her like this. No wonder his fingers were uncertain earlier.
"You dumbasses should've cleaned it up," Lee says. "The police are going to test the blood and find out that it's Wes's, you know? They'll have his DNA on file because of juvie. Maybe they'll be able to link him back to the park. Or worse, find out how he is alive when he lost three litres of blood. Whatever. I'm done worrying about the police. Someone tried to murder me."
As Lee sits on the couch beside him, Eden reflects that it is probably not his best call to mention that he is in fact, extremely panicked about the police. Nor does he mention that it wouldn't matter if someone tried to kill her. Probably. Suddenly, Eden realizes that Lee is holding her breath. He waits, counts to ten, and then he hears her heavy exhale and a sharp intake of breath. Repeat.
Eden struggles, trying to figure out where to put his hand. He ends up deciding to rest it on the couch behind Lee's head, letting her decide to lean back.
She doesn't. Lee can hear the sound of the gun, firing to the beat of the music. Over and over, on repeat. For once, Lee wishes she wasn't such an auditory person. The sound thrilled her until the bullet narrowly missed her skull.
"Do you want a tea?" Eden asks. He doesn't wait for her answer to get up. Across the room, he pulls out his only mug and the kettle. Lee watches as he heats the water in silence. He dips the bag in and brings it over.
Lee smirks into the mug as she drinks. At no point does Eden ask her for sugar or milk. She notices the absence of the question, but Eden doesn't. Finally, Lee slowly tips her head onto his shoulder. Both of their bodies are tense. Whatever their personalities think is wrong, this energy knows is right.
Eden just prays that Lee doesn't lean up to kiss him. Though he has no desire for her, he wonders if the power inside him would take over and make him. He isn't sure if anything is his choice anymore. In this moment, even Cara seemed forward. Though he thought she was pretty when he first glanced at her, it wasn't until after the explosion that she became his gravity.
"Sorry," Lee mentions. Perhaps she is apologizing to herself, perhaps to Eden. It doesn't seem to matter. "You remind me of my brother. He's gone."
Finally, Eden can breathe.
~~~
A six-letter word. Known to few. Mysterious.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Cara taps her pen off the edge of the paper, staring down at the page. The bright lights above her ought to be giving her a headache, but Cara has stopped caring about what things ought to do to her.
Instead, she distracts herself with a crossword puzzle. The word escapes her though. Every time she struggles, she finds herself rereading an article about the Autumn festival over and over until her eyes hurt. Then, she moves on to a different word.
Since this six-letter word escapes her, she goes on to the next one.
A nine-letter word. The substance inside a cell.
Now that's too easy. Cara leans down and scratches the word into her page. Cytoplasm.
The A runs into the other word, leaving Cara scratching her head. The only idea she had had before writing cytoplasm was, perhaps, secret. However, the fourth letter of secret is R, rather than A.
Beeping erupts from somewhere down the hall. Cara tries not to pay it any mind. Though she is sure that Hope's room is in the opposite direction, her mind invents doubt. Really, Hope's room could be anywhere. They could have moved her already, even though they've only been at the hospital for half an hour. Actually, anything is possible.
_ _ _ A _ _
A six-letter word. Known to few. Mysterious.
~~~
Jamie walks into his apartment, and his heart sinks. He had hoped that only he would be awake when he arrived home. Though he feels guilty, Jamie didn't even care if Kyle was out on the street so long as he wasn't bothering him. Yet, here he is. An empty bag of Doritos in front of him, a Netflix show that Jamie has been dying to watch blaring on the television, and a needle stuck in Kyle's arm.
"Duuuuuude," Kyle throws the word out, a long monotone syllable. Jamie isn't sure if Kyle is talking to Jamie, or if Kyle has been saying dude over and over again, on repeat, for hours.
Jamie is only a couple drinks in, and the walk sobered him up, but Jamie pretends he is drunker than he is. At least, he pretends its liquid courage that fills him with anger, rather than just the build-up of actual rage.
"Kyle, can you hear me?" Jamie demands, his voice quick and cutting.
When Kyle turns his head to look at Jamie, Jamie quickly adjusts his posture. He brushes his hair out of his eyes, grazing the bloodstain on his forehead. Then, he puts his hands on his hips and spreads his legs ever so slightly.
"Okay, Kyle, here is what we are going to do," Jamie says, pausing to wait for Kyle to cut him off. When he doesn't, Jamie finds his voice grow louder. It's at regular volume now, rather than the ghost of a whisper. "You are either going to the hospital, or you are leaving my apartment. Until you are sober."
Slowly, Kyle turns and stares back at the television. The boy pulls himself off the couch and pulls the needle out of his arm. He brushes past Jamie and slams the door on the way out.
~~~
As always, Erik is thankful that his Dad is working. He bursts up the stairs, stamping so hard that the stairs groan under the pressure of his anger. Erik doesn't give a shit. Instead, he rushes into the bathroom.
Under the bright light, he stares at his reflection. He stares at his healed, yet still bloody hands. He grips them tighter and tighter, hoping the strength of his knuckles will force the healed cuts open. However, there is no wound. There is no scar even.
Perhaps that is the worst part about healing quickly. There is no evidence than anything has ever happened. None of his father's beatings, nor of Wesley's violence. Erik hates it. He hates it more than anything.
He runs into his bedroom, diving over to his desk. Erik reaches on to the bottom of the top drawer and pulls out the file folder. Inside, he reaches in. There is a picture of Amelia inside which he tears to crumples it into a ball. Erik takes all the receipts and photos, and everything he has of hers and wrecks it. Though he can't bear to tear up the files, he leaves each sheet scattered around his room.
Erik screams.
~~~
Her head is pressed against the cold granite countertops. The effect is sobering, but not sobering enough. June is out of it. The worst part is that she can feel herself becoming more sober every second.
June jolts forward. She turns around to glare at her older brother, March, who has kicked the chair. The silence kills her, as does his heavy glare.
"What?" June asks, leaning forward.
Archie crosses his arms over his chest. "You're lucky Mom and Dad are at a Gala tonight instead of here. You smell so boozy. What are you doing?"
"I'm relaxing," June stands up. The movement is too quick, and she has to catch herself on the island.
Even though her older brother has on a sour expression, he tucks himself beneath her arm and helps her up. June practically flops on Archie.
"I'm not going to tell you how to live your life," her brother begins. June has a feeling that he is going to tell her, however. "Just, quit it. Yeah, August is dead. And?"
"Don't act like this doesn't suck," June quips as they move up the stairs.
Archie pauses on the step. He sucks in a deep breath. "You don't have a monopoly on grieving. He was my brother too."
Her voice becomes quiet and meek. "I'm sorry."
"You've got three more brothers who love you, and are worried sick about you," Archie finally begins to move again. They are nearly at the top. "If you can't save yourself for August, do it for me."
~~~
"What are you doing home so late?" Wesley's Mom asks as he shuts the door. His other mother is not in the room, and hopefully, she is asleep. Dealing with one of his parents is more than enough for Wesley, especially when his skin is still hot from anger, and it is getting nearly impossible to keep his eyes open.
"I didn't realize that I had a curfew," Wesley eyes his Mom, waiting for her to protest. "I'm an adult."
"Well, when you are living in this house you will live by our rules," his Mom reflects. "Besides, you have work in the morning. We can't have you coming in exhausted again."
Wes moves over to the stairs. He climbs halfway up before turning to his Mom. "You know, I appreciate everything you've done for me. However, I hate your stupid fucking restaurant, and your fights to expand it. You and Candice should probably get a divorce also because the reason I come into work-tired half the time is that I'm up all night listening to you bicker."
"How dare you talk to me like that!" His Mom (or as he more commonly refers to her, Denice) shouts. "We took you in when nobody wanted you. We cared for you as if you were our son."
"Sorry, but not physically abusing me doesn't mean taking care of me," Wesley shakes his head back and forth as he finally heads upstairs.
~~~
Percy buries her dog alone.
~~~~~
Hey! I'm not quite sure if I should apologize for this or not. Like, this has some good moments, but it is overall just a trash show for everybody. Small victories though.
Also, didn't anyone catch the little hint I put in? I don't want to spoil it, but let me know if you think you've figured it out. I love you all, and the reason I am so active is because of your comments. They LITERALLY make my weeks so much better.
I'll see you soon!