I stumble to a stop when the muzzle swings to me and stares it down. I fall to my knees, ready to plead that none of these children watch what happens. But I blink, and it’s over.
I stare up at the ceiling as my name is shouted. Hands press against me, and sobs echo in my ears. A baby screams nearby, and I know it’s my sister’s newborn. I’m numb, everywhere. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I can feel the icy breath of Death breathing down my neck. I feel like I’m drowning and don’t have the energy to fight against the frosty waves crashing over me. I’m ready for them to pull me down.
I can hear my mother and my father. I can hear them scream at others, their words indistinguishable in my muffled hearing.
I blink. The lights overhead are bright, giant orbs that dangle above me. They grow larger, and the voices grow smaller. A gunshot rings in my ears. The cold feels like needles poking at my skin, little pinpricks that start to move rapidly up and down my arms. My heart thrums erratically, like a hummingbird, and it’s all I can hear. The only sound that vibrates through my mind and the only thing I can make sense of. I don’t want it to stop, but it sounds damn close to doing so.
My eyes fly open, and I sit up quickly, gasping for breath. I scramble to push the blankets off me and sweep my hands over my body. The cold is gone. In its place is a sheen of sweat that covers my entire body, forehead, and plasters my hair to my face. My heart is thumping so quickly that I can hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat. My body shakes vigorously as I wrap my arms across my chest, hugging myself tightly.
A snore makes me jump and reminds me of the slumbering men, one on each side of me. I look to my right and watch Devon take a deep breath before letting it out. His eyes don’t open, though, undisturbed by my troubled sleep. He’s shirtless, and I know that beneath the blanket, he only has his boxers on. My eyes sweep down him, lingering a moment on the tufts of hair that cover his chest. I bite my bottom lip, chewing. I watch him sleep for a moment, calm and peaceful, then turn to look at Colton on my left side. He’d been so easy to convince to sleep in the queen-sized bed with Devon and me. It’s a slight tight squeeze, but we made it work. Colton is slimmer than Devon, and I’m still gaining back the weight I lost with drugs. So, we fit. Eventually, though, we will have to buy a bigger one. Like the ones I’ve seen online that sleep six people. Especially since we do want Owen to join us when he’s ready, of course. He wasn’t tonight. He slept in Devon’s old childhood bedroom, and I think that just because he agreed to feel this relationship out, it doesn’t mean he’s ready to step out of his comfort zone completely.
I guess I’m just lucky he’s come as far as he has. I know he’s still mad about things, and we’ll have to work on it together. But I can’t complain if he doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed or even have sex for a while with me. I’m just going to have to build it back, everything. I know it won’t be easy, but I also know that having my guys back is the best thing I can ask for right now. I fucked up badly in the past, and I’m just fortunate that things are steering back in the direction they were once before going. I just need to make sure I don’t derail again.
I pull myself off the bed, my feet dropping to the floor in the front of it. Carpet greets my feet, a thankful reprieve from the cold floor. It reminds me of the carpeted room at Luke and Jasper’s place, and my heart flops all over again. They went home shortly after dinner, with plans to return the next day after they each get off work. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to make a life happen with five guys, but the mere idea makes the schoolgirl inside me squeal in delight. This whole thing is opening doors I never even imagined existed before.
The six of us must figure out how to go through with everything together, but I know it’s doable. I’m nervous about how my family is going to take this. My parents were understanding about two, possibly three guys. Thinking about their reactions to five guys is a little nerve-wracking, though. I don’t feel scared to tell them. I just don’t know how to tell them. I have no reason to believe they’ll shut the door in my face. If anything, I know they’ll accept me and whoever I want as partners, but I’m still nervous.
I leave the room quietly, the bedroom door having been left open for the night. The house is warm, and I can hear the chugging sound of the heater, loud in my ears as it’s the only thing making any noise. I walk down the familiar hall of the house that I spent so many days of my teenage life within. It’s so nostalgic, and I love that comfort. It smells like lavender, musty, but it’s there. Devon’s mom’s favorite scent. Everything she owned always had a spritz or more of lavender. I guess Myron kept that scent wafting through the house long after her passing. I love it, and I think I’ll do it too. Not have it on my outfits but lingering in the house. A candle here or there, flowers on the table. A squirt of lavender perfume just to keep it alive. I know that Devon will appreciate it. He and his mother had been so close. It had torn him apart when she passed.
I pass a family portrait hanging on the hallway wall. It's dark, but I know well who is in it. Two parents, young. A sixteen-year-old boy and a three old boy. All grinning, all happy. They aren’t forced smiles; even in the smiles, you can see their genuine appearance. The last full family portrait before Devon’s brother’s life had been taken because of a drunk driver. Next to it is another portrait. Another sixteen-year-old boy, almost identical to the first, and the two parents, older looking. Their smiles are softer in it, warier looking. It’s the last one before Devon’s mom got sick and was taken as well.
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why Myron kept them hung up. I hope I am never in that position myself. He used to tell me that feeling the absence of people you love with all your heart is not something you want to live with.
He’s going to be so excited I’m back in the picture, though. At least, that’s what Devon told me. He and I are going to the assisted home in a few days to have dinner with him, to show him that I’m back and doing good. I can’t wait to see him.
I don’t know why I feel like something is still wrong; something’s missing. Everything seems to be going right, but even I know that not all is ever what it seems.
I stop at the last room of the hall and slip into the open door. Owen sleeps without a shirt or pants, just like the other two guys. I pad across the carpeted floor and pull back the blanket. He stirs, grumbling slightly, and opens his eyes. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Owen doesn’t fight against me. Instead, he opens his arms, and I crawl onto the bed and curl into them, letting myself be wrapped in his muscular arms. The erratic beating of my heart begins to slow as I lay my head on his chest. Maybe it’s just the fact that Owen’s a cop or that he’s always been the one to step in as protector, but I feel a lot safer with him now after my nasty dream.