A station
2218 Words
Thinking what you're gonna say,
Cause everything's a game.
Always trying to calculate,
Trying to look smart,
But not too smart,
To threaten anything they say.
"Brain" -Banks
"Do you think you'll actually get in trouble?" I asked as we pulled into the police station after the officer.
"They can not do that," Christian replied. He turned to stare at me. "Can they? I was not even at the legal driving limit."
"Well, I mean, you're under twenty-one," I pointed out. "You are not supposed to have anything in your system."
"I did not even know I had any!" he protested. "I did not even think there was any actual alcohol in it."
"I told you it was way too strong for there not to be!"
He shook his head. "It's probably just a scare tactic or something," he muttered as we entered the station.
"Do you have anything on the RV?" I whispered.
Christian paused, then shook his head.
"Hello, officer Bar," the guy at the front desk greeted us. Officer Bar nodded to him as we passed on our way back to his office.
"We will be holding you overnight while we deliberate and investigate," Bar said.
"What?" Christian exclaimed. "You can not do that!"
The officer gave him a dry look. "I can."
"But- I-" he sputtered. "I did not even know!′
"I can't simply trust your word," Barsaid, not looking the least bit sympathetic.
"Do you know who I am?" Christian demanded.
Oh s**t, he's pulling that card.
"I hope that is not a threat, Mr. Harvey ," the officer replied, raising an eyebrow.
Oh s**t, that card did not work.
"It was not even at the legal driving limit!" Christian exclaimed, switching tactics.
"As I stated before, Illinois is a zero tolerance state and there are no exceptions no matter who they may be." Bar gave him a pointed look.
Oh s**t, I think the guy hates him even more for trying to pull that card.
"If it was simply an accident, there is nothing to be concerned about," he continued. "We will also be taking possession of your RV until the morning."
Wait.
Crap.
"Where will she stay then?" Christian demanded.
"My stuff is in there," I stated at the same time.
"There are many hotels and inns in the area." Bar turned to me. "An officer will escort you as you gather the things you need and drive you to a location of your choice."
"You have got to be f*****g kidding me," Christian growled.
"On the contrary, we take driving under the influence very seriously here," the officer responded. He reached into the desk and pulled out a stack of papers. He handed one to Christian along with a pen. "Please fill this out. I will be back to escort you to your holding cell." And with that, he exited the room, but left the door wide open so that the guy at the front desk could see us.
"I can't believe you tried to pull the rich name card," I whispered to Christian .
He groaned. "I can't believe this is f*****g happening." He scrawled on the paper in short, angry scratches that were so harsh I was almost certain the page would rip.
"I don't think any of that is legible," I remarked.
"That guy f*****g hates me," he muttered.
"Maybe he knows someone who was killed by a drunk driver who got away with it because of money?" I suggested.
Christian shook his head as he signed at the bottom. "You know," he said, glancing up at me. "This is all your fault."
"Hey!" I protested. "How is it my fault."
"We got ice cream because of you," he replied.
"You were the one who decided we were getting ice cream," I reminded him.
"For you!"
"You chose to try the alcohol flavoured stuff."
He gave me a mock innocent look. "You were the one who pointed it out."
"That didn't mean you had to get it!" I exclaimed, biting the inside of my lip to hold back a laugh. "And I told you the sign said forty-five, but you didn't listen to me!"
He sighed dramatically. "You know, this is a lot I'm going through for you."
I rolled my eyes. "You have no one to blame but yourself."
"So I think I've earned the right to try the spanking kink you have on you," he stated.
I choked. "Me- I- The spanking kink that I have?"
He nodded.
I shook my head.
He nodded again.
I smirked. "Kinda hard to spank me from behind bars now isn't it?"
He flipped me off.
For a moment, I wasn't sure where I was.
I was wearing a fancy dress, leaning over a railing. Lights glittered all around me as people swayed and danced to soft jazz music like a scene out of The Great Gatsby. Someone came up behind me, two arms reaching out to cage me in.
"I told you it'd be a bunch of ass-kissing," Christian whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.
I glanced back at him over my shoulder. "I don't think it's that bad."
He snorted. "That's because you ran and have been hiding up here, watching everyone." He spun me around, then moved in closer, pressing my back into the railing as his arms slipped to encircle my waist.
"Well, I think the guy you were talking to could practically see me falling asleep as he talked about stock indicators," I replied. "I didn't think you'd want me to make that impression."
"And you say you want to go into business," he teased.
I shook my head. "I said I liked math, not Wall Street.
"You know, when I invited to come to this s**t, it was so I wouldn't get bored, not so I could spend half the time looking for you." He ducked his head down to whisper in my ear, making me squirm as his breath tickled my skin.
"Were you bored?" I raised an eyebrow. "And invited? You played this payback, let's not change the story now."
He chuckled. "Hide and seek might have been more fun if I hadn't been stopped every two minutes."
"Well, I can't help that, Mr. Popularity."
He shook his head, still laughing lightly. "I think I deserve a reward for my patience."
"This is a charity event," I protested, "and I have lipstick on."
"I bet I could make your lips just as red that no one would notice," he said with a slight smirk.
I gaped at him. "You- You're horrible!"
Before he could respond, the song drew to a close and the singer announced that dinner was being served. We made our way downstairs as the charity director began her speech about the cause this gala was dedicated towards. We were seated at a long table, covered in a long white table cloth with delicate little china plates.
I looked up and nearly jumped out of my seat.
"Jax? What are you doing here?" My brother was supposed to be in New York. Why the hell was he here? And at the Winston's gala of all things.
He didn't respond, just stared at me.
"Jax?"
Still no response.
His passive eyes glared into mine as he slowly raised a knife. It was long and sharp, wicked looking, out of place in this setting of elegance and delicacy.
"What are you doing?" I demanded as he drew it higher.
"Do you think they'd miss me?" he asked.
"What?" I sputtered. I reached towards him to grab his arm. "Jax, stop it."
Before I could reach him, a hand stopped me, gripping my wrist in a crushing grip. I turned to look at Jacen. "I need to stop him!"
"Why would you do that?" he asked.
"He- he needs to be stopped!" I exclaimed, trying to pull out of his grip, but it felt like his fingers had become a steel cage.
"You didn't care before," Christian stated.
"What?" I twisted wildly, trying to find a way to reach across the table and stop my brother as he pressed the knife into his throat. Blood dripped down his throat and splashed onto the perfect little china plates in little splotches like some kind of morbid dinner sauce.
"It doesn't really matter, does it, Gigi?" I spun around again to face Christian
Except it wasn't Christian
I stared as, somehow, before my eyes, his hair became shorter, his jaw sharpened and his eyes grew icier, bluer until Lucas stared back at me with a slight smirk that somehow hadn't changed from Christian earlier but was infinitely colder. Patronizing, rather than playful.
"What?" I whispered.
He pulled my hand forward, pressing it to his chest, over his heart- or where his heart would have been if Lucas really possessed one. "It doesn't really matter, Gigs” he repeated.
"He's my brother." I turned back at the sound of a thud to see My brother slumped over the dinner table. Blood pooled around him, staining the pristine white table cloth. It slowly slipped away from us, weighed down by his corpse, sending glasses and china crashing onto the floor.
"No one really matters but us," Lucas said.
"What did you do to my brother?" I demanded, yanking on my hand, but still, he didn't let me go.
"I didn't do anything, Gigs," he replied. "You did."
The music ground to a halt, leaving only the tinkers of glass breaking and the dripping sound of blood leaking.
"I tried to save him!" I protested. "Why didn't anyone do anything?" I stared around at the people who continued to sit at the table, laughing and talking silently, the perfect dinner continuing as if nothing had happened.
"You never told them to," Lucas said.
I gulped. "I- I don't understand."
"It's okay, Gigs," he said, lifting his hand. It was stained with blood and I stared, paralyzed, as he brushed a thumb across my thumb, leaving a streak of wet warmth behind. The smell of rust and iron filled my senses. "All we need is each other."
"What did you do to Christian ?" I whispered.
He smiled at me gently, and somehow that was worse than the patronizing smirk. It was almost like he cared, felt some measure of warmth and tenderness when the opposite couldn't be more true. "I know you missed me."
"What did you do to him?" It felt like I was hysterical, yelling, yet my question did come out any louder than the first time I'd said it.
"I didn't do anything," he said. "We're the same, me and him."
"This isn't happening," I whispered to myself.
This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Thisisnthappening.
This isn't happening.
My eyes snapped open.
For a moment, I was paralyzed, staring up at a dark ceiling instead of glittering lights. It smelled of laundry detergent and fabric softener instead of iron and rust. The sound of my harsh gasps filled the room, instead of the tinkering of glass and-
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My next breath stilled in my throat.
I crept from the bed, shivering as the cold air wrapped around me. I reached forward and pushed open the door, quickly flipping on the lights.
Just a leaky faucet.
I quickly twisted the handle all the way, then leaned against the counter, staring at myself in the mirror.
It was just a dream, Cia.
Just a wild, crazy, dream.
Just stress and paranoia manifesting into an overactive imagination.
I stared into my reflection for a long moment, then shook my head and turned off the light, exiting the bathroom. I grabbed my phone to check the time.
4:28 am.
I hesitated for a moment, then unlocked my phone and sent a quick message to Jax.
You there?
A moment later, it dinged with a response.
Yeah, what's up?
I shook my head, even as I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I stared at the screen for a long while, the brightness illuminating the small room and casting slight shadows at the corners. It dimmed, then turned off. My finger hovered over the home button, but I set it back on the nightstand without pressing it.
I hadn't talked to My brother since he disappeared in the summer.
I crawled back into my bed, but found myself unable to sleep. The vision of Christian transforming into Lucas kept repeating in my head.
But despite what Lucas - dream Lucas had said-
They weren't the same.
I could see Lucas charming, manipulating, finding someway out of the arrest today. I could see him, with a smug little smirk as he drove away, delighted over the fact that he had gotten away with it all. I could see him, not even letting it get that far, not even ending up at the police station.
I couldn't see him in a five by five holding cell, like Jacen was right now.
But then again, if you had asked me, months ago, I would said that I couldn't see him in a psychiatric facility, spending time for a crime he actually got caught for, where I testified against him.
I'd never really been good at seeing people for how they really
- Writer
