That night, Zeke stayed with me and slept on the floor. I had expected him to insist he also sleep on the bed, or kick me to the floor, but he didn't say anything on the subject and instead went straight to making a make-shift bed out of blankets. Nothing was exchanged between the two of us besides an awkward silence that lingered like stale air. It took me a while to fall asleep, but the surprisingly soothing sound of his soft snores soon lulled me to a dreamless sleep.
The next thing I was aware of was a knock on the door that made me sit up abruptly.
"Indigo, are you awake? There's breakfast if you're hungry."
It wasn't Zeke's voice, but the other man who spoke from outside the door. I slowly got up from the bed and made my way over to open the door.
"Good morning!" he said brightly as he saw me. "Breakfast?"
I nodded shyly and he beamed even more, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me off to the kitchen where he sat me down at the table and placed a slice of pizza and cup of coffee in front of me. I gave him a funny look and he shrugged.
"We haven't been to the store recently so it's all we got."
I shook my head in amusement and began to eat the cold pizza. The door opened and I turned my head to see a sweaty Zeke walk in dressed in running apparel.
"And how was the sprint of death?" Dex asked cheerfully.
"It's not that hot outside." Zeke rolled his eyes, wiping some sweat from his face.
"It's already in the 80's, that's too damn hot to be running." Dex told him.
"I'm going to shower." Zeke said, ignoring the jibe and starting down the hall, already stripping off his shirt. My eyes widened at the sight of his bare back and I immediately averted my eyes to looking at the table.
"Wow." Dex chuckled. "I know Zeke's got an awesome bod, but you're so red it's almost as if you've never seen a naked back before."
My face turned even redder, if that was possible, and Dex laughed harder.
"Wait a minute, have you seriously never-"
"Shut up!" I hissed, looking up at him with a glare.
Dex jerked back slightly in shock.
"Now that was more intimidating then I expected." He mused. "Something about your eyes, you're kind of scary."
I blinked at that and looked away from him, taking a drink from my coffee as an excuse to not look at him.
"But seriously, you're how old? Nineteen I think Zeke said, and you've never seen a guy naked or shirtless at the least? Have you never been swimming or something? Did your rich parents leave you in a box for your whole life."
I slammed the cup down a little harder than I meant too, but it shut him up. Without looking at him, I stood up and walked down the hall back to the bedroom. I sat in there until I heard voices coming from the living room, which made me go to the door and open it a crack so I could eavesdrop.
"-then so what?" Zeke asked in a bored voice. "You were probably being annoying."
"No I'm telling you, there was something strange about it."
"We kidnapped the girl, of course she's going to act strange."
"Shut up Zeke, there was something else that was weird about it."
"Jesus, you are never taking any online courses again. Now look at you, you think you're some kind of psychiatrist."
"Hey! I'll have you know that my "A" in psych was certified!"
"Moron." Zeke muttered. I heard the fridge opening and figured one of them was making food.
"Ah-hah! Look at this!" Dex suddenly exclaimed.
"Keep your voice down." Zeke said. I couldn't almost imagine him rolling his eyes. "What is this? An old news article?"
My heart instantly sunk at that. I knew what they had found.
I wanted to run out there and shut the computer down, I wanted to throw it out the window. The pause in the conversation was like a physical weight on my chest because I knew what they were reading, I knew every single thing that article said.
They all said the same thing.
I closed my eyes tightly as the headline, printed in big, black writing across the top ran through my mind.
"Fifteen Year Old Boy Burns Down House, Killing Self and Parents."
The article would then go on to villainize the boy. It would blame society's violent culture, it would blame video games, and it would blame the cheap home with its faulty wirings that allowed the fire to spread quicker; but in the end it would always blame the boy the most.
I always found myself questioning why my brother would do that in the first place. I had idolized my older brother, there were times when he was sweet and kind and would help me with my homework. He was the one who had taught me to tie my shoelaces when I was three. But the part of me that had grown up and taken off the rose-tinted glasses knew perfectly well why he did it. Even when I was young I knew perfectly well the kind of person he had been, I was probably the only one he let his guard down around. I had just thought it was normal.
Now the last memory I had of him was of a pair of indigo colored eyes, the exact color as mine, looking from a sooty face, neither remorseful nor gleeful. They were simply empty.
I had been eight years old when my brother burned down our house. When I was pulled out of the fire and saved from burning. When I witnessed my parent's screams and cries as they burned to death. Only eight years old and burdened with the question of why my brother would murder his entire family. I didn't even got to mourn him properly, they never found his body and we never held a funeral for him.
But the article wouldn't mention any of that. It would simply state the facts and slip in some subtle hints as to who we should see as the bad guy. My brother, of course, would be piled high with blame while the little girl the valiant firemen saved, the innocent sister with her wide and beautiful eyes, with her sooty hair in pigtails, with her painful burn wounds. She would be seen as the victim.
They didn't understand and I hated how they portrayed me. I hated everything about the article, from the school picture they showed of my brother that tried to shock its audiences with how a sweet looking thing could be a monster, right down to the pictures they had of me after the fire.
The pictures showed me in the arms of a fireman as he put an oxygen mask over my face. I was wearing bunny pajamas, but the bottoms were burned badly and showed off the heavy burns afflicted upon my legs. They had managed to take the picture right as I was looking at the camera and online, where there was color to the photo, you could see the full extent of my intense gaze and the color of my eyes.
It was that which made so many people wish to foster me in the first place. They had been fascinated by my eyes and then had given me away after the fascination had run its' course.
I pursed my lips, suddenly feeling a burst of anger rush through me. I hated how the internet allowed people to rehash old wounds from the past as if they belonged to everyone.
Feeling a sudden sense of purpose, I walked with determination outside and into the kitchen where Zeke and Dex had their backs to me, looking at that damned article. I walked up behind them and reached over their heads, snapping the computer lid shut.
They both spun around and looked at me with wide eyes.
I didn't say anything to them, I just shot them a deadly look before turning around and heading into the living room.
I sat on the couch and flipped on the remote. The television only had six stations and so I settled on a sports channel. After a few seconds, Zeke and Dex walked into the room. They didn't say anything to me, instead they just glanced at me awkwardly before turning to the game.
The rest of the day passed by without me saying a single word. Zeke and Dex were constantly alternating with who was sitting next to me watching TV, but I didn't know where they left too when they disappeared. It probably had something to do with their less then licit activities, or perhaps it had something to do with the men who shot at us, but either way I didn't bother to find out.
I know that Dex went to the store at one point because he came back with enough food to stock the fridge. I wondered briefly if he had pawned off the stolen jewels to buy it, and then decided I didn't care.
By the time night had come around, Zeke still wasn't back from his latest excursion and now Dex's eyes were constantly flickering to the door. It had gotten to around ten o'clock and Dex had gotten downright twitchy.
"You've been wearing those clothes for two days?" he finally asked me.
I figured he was just trying to keep his mind off of something but answered him with a nod anyways.
"Come here." He indicated, jerking his head for me to follow him. "We'll find you something to wear."
I followed him to the bedroom I had slept in last night and he began to search through the drawers.
"Damn, I don't think anything will really fit you." He muttered. "You're so short and tiny any sweats would fall right off."
He continued to search in the drawers before he finally pulled something out of the very bottom of a middle drawer.
"This might have to do." He said, tossing me a pair of boxers and a large shirt that advertised some kind of beer. "I think they're old ones of Zeke's that are too small for him now, that would explain why they're at the bottom of his drawer."
I held them against me and found that the shirt alone would probably cover everything but was glad for the boxers all the same.
"I'll just let you change." Dex said awkwardly before walking out and shutting the door behind him.
I quickly switched clothes and put my old ones in a pile to wash. I briefly looked down at my legs and winced. There was a reason that I didn't wear shorts ever, or why I never went swimming, but I suppose it didn't matter anymore since they had already read the article. I sighed in irritation before walking out the door and going back to the living room.
Dex looked over at me as I walked in, and then his eyes flickered down to my legs and widened slightly. I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to say something. I knew that he wanted too by the look on his face, but before he could a flash of car lights out front made both of us look towards the window. Dex quickly went to open the door and he ran outside. I stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out what was happening, before two figures hobbled their way in the door.
My eyes widened as they zeroed in on the way Dex was supporting most of Zeke's weight and then my eyes went to the stain of red on his side. Before I could stop myself, I quickly ran to his other side and put my arm around him to help. Both boys looked startled, almost making me sigh in irritation.
"To the bathroom." I instructed.
Dex nodded and we began to make our way there slowly. Finally, we managed to set him down on the seat of the toilet and I began to rummage around the cupboard until I found the medical kit. To my relief, it was the more expensive kind that came with everything I needed.
"Take off your shirt." I told him as I opened the kit.
I heard a soft chuckle and then a slight moan come from Zeke as he struggled to comply. Dex rushed forward to help him.
"You don't talk a lot, but when you do you're very demanding." Zeke said with a slight smirk despite the pain he must've been in.
"Do you want help or not?" I asked.
It probably wasn't the brightest thing helping out your kidnappers when they are injured, however seeing him with blood seeping out seemed to bring out a maternal side of me that was very irritating.
"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, half serious and half joking.
"I'm in pre-med school. I know how to do stiches." I nodded.
"Wow, nice pick Zeke!" Dex complimented. Zeke hit him in the chest, which led to them both doubled over in pain.
"Morons." I sighed before moving forward to examine the wound and wash it.
"Is it bad?" Dex asked after a bit.
"I mean any bullet wound isn't going to be good, but it looks to be a clean shot. I don't have any anesthesia for you while I do the stitches, but whisky or vodka might help."
Zeke nodded at Dex who immediately left for a second, returning with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Zeke took it and took a few swigs before nodding at me. I set to work immediately, and oddly enough sewing up the wound was calming for me. It was something I was fairly familiar with and it gave me back a semblance of control in my situation.
When I was through, I cut the thread and began to bind up the wound. Finally satisfied with my work, I looked up at Zeke to find him already watching me.
"Thank you." He said quietly.
"You're welcome." I responded, a bit shyly, as I stood up.
Zeke's eyes flickered down to my legs and I grew self-conscious as they looked over every marking. He reached a hand up hesitantly as if with the intent of touching one of the scars and I immediately took a step back. His hand froze midair and his eyes looked up to meet mine. I met his gaze for a second before I turned around and left the bathroom.
"Thank you for helping." Dex told me from where he had been waiting in the hall.
"It's no problem." I shrugged.
"No really, we appreciate it. I know in your position you don't have any reason to help but we-"
"Dex." I cut him off. He must have been surprised to hear me say his name because he instantly stopped talking. "Don't worry about it, it's really nothing."
Dex smiled at me, reaching a hand to clasp my shoulder briefly before he went into the bathroom.
Tired from the moment of excitement, I headed into the bedroom and immediately collapsed on the bed. I didn't even have the energy to climb under the covers before I was out for the night.