5 comments/  16196 views/  21 favorites

Hornet's Nest Ch. 01

By: IvoryTusk



Author's note: This is a 10 part story, with two POV characters.

The setting is very mildly futuristic, but mostly alternate dimension. My warnings would be some violence (not particularly graphic), and unlawful characters behaving badly.

I welcome all feedback, positive or negative.

---

David

I think the pettiest thing that annoyed me while growing up, was that I was supposed to be taller.

My best friend, Wesley, was taller than me at every age. My uncles were both taller than me. My dad, way taller than me.

You see it in the family photos. Of all the males, I'm the 'short' one. And six foot isn't even short. I spent all my childhood thinking I would match my father's height, then at some point I had to accept that I'd stopped growing.

Sounds like I've had an easy life if that's all I had to worry about.

The war started when I was about eight or so. I'm probably supposed to talk about the things that changed, and how it affected everything. I don't really know what to say. I don't remember what things were like 'before'.

The war seemed far away. It was a sequence of events seen through the TV screen. Slightly detached news stories that only told half the story. Told whatever the government deemed necessary. There was some tense cold war going on between world superpowers, and it eventually erupted.

Things did change, but they were subtle, small. Certain products slowly disappeared off the shelves of shops. Certain TV shows stopped. New movies and games stopped being regularly released. It always seemed so gradual, and I was young. In teenage years I'd turn around and wonder why something happened, swear that things used to be different when I was, like, 12.

The internet being hit was probably what started the biggest uproar. We didn't lose it, but it closed in. We had the national grid, but they tried to shut off the rest of the world. ISP's could block whatever the fuck they wanted, whatever the government told them to.

Our island was trying to close off from the world, losing trade with other countries, and suffering because it couldn't support its population.

There were problems. Things definitely changed. A lot of this war was economic. I suppose I was oblivious to it because my parents, my family, were rich. And that money was not drying up any time soon.

I was one of the lucky ones.

---

Violet

At some point, I had to realise I was bottom of the food chain.

When it's all you've known, all you've seen, and never had a chance to look in from the outside, it goes over your head.

You think you're okay. You think this is normal. You've never known better.

We were normal people. We just did some illegal things to get by. The way I actually saw it as a child, we were smart. Adapt and survive. Are you going to starve today, or will you slip that breakfast bar up your sleeve and make a run for it?

Better run fast. The slow ones get caught. And drafted.

---

David

The second uproar came when the fighting actually started, and the law changed. They introduced the National Service.

It was a disguised conscription. You could get out of it, if you did the right things. Once turning 18 and finishing school, you had a year to get a job or enroll in higher education.

Sounds easy enough, right? Good fucking luck getting a job. Getting into university was no walk in the park, either. You needed the right grades, they could be as selective as they liked, and you'd get horribly in debt for the rest of your life anyways. Then you probably still couldn't get a job once you were finished, so you were only delaying your drafting.

People wouldn't be dragged into the service anymore over the age of 29, except in special cases. So there was a long time of stalling.

I was 13 when it came into full swing. There were lots of school assemblies to make sure all the kids understood. If you misbehaved enough to get expelled, you were going to be put into the youth service. If you were a little shit in society, your third arrest would see you in service.

Nobody took it seriously at first. Then those naughty kids, the ones who always answered the teachers back, the ones who were always getting sent out the classroom, the ones who got into fights... they started disappearing.

It became that bullshit thing. Don't do this, or you'll get drafted. Don't do that, or you'll get drafted.

Even if you got through school without getting drafted, the year gap was reduced to six months at some point. They needed to deal with all the youths, because the youths were a problem.

People rebelled and tried to fight it. Kids ran away from home before the system came knocking at their door. Homeless kids formed gangs. It snowballed in a few short years.

There were anti-war activists - people who blamed the government for getting involved in things it shouldn't have, for dragging the country down. I'm sure they had some good message at the start of things, but it got marred somewhere down the line. Give people a cause, and the ones who want some way to take out their anger will taint it.

The activists struck close to home, because they targeted my family. Or more specifically, my uncle, Darren.

It built up for a while. I remember my dad coming home, swearing about the protesters he'd been chasing off company grounds again. There were conversations between him, my mother, my uncles, which usually trailed off because they thought it wasn't suitable for us kids.

Not like they could hide it, because the media took an interest.

I was 14, and I remember it clearly. It was one of those nights where my parents were out late, so Wesley and I were at home, looking after my little sister, Hanna. We were eating in front of the TV, watching the live six o'clock news. The name of the family company came up and we paid a little more attention.

There was some commotion somewhere. A swarm of protesters. The reporter's voice was hurriedly explaining whatever was going on, claiming it was happening because Darren Sörensen was there. It wasn't the company complex. I wasn't sure where it was. The cameras focused on people coming out from a building, and I took a moment to realise I was looking at my uncle on live TV.

He looked both bewildered and angry at all the commotion and harassment. Bodyguards were trying to clear a way for him to a car, alongside a few police officers.

A protester broke through and threw a bucket of blood over him.

"Oh shit," Wesley said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Chaos was erupting and the camera wasn't very steady, but it still captured everything. Darren just stood there, wiped a hand down his face, and tossed blood from his hair with a flick of his head. Then he glared at the crowd with eyes of ice.

To be fair, I think he handled it well. The bodyguards were getting more aggressive, but he didn't let them usher him away. He stayed right where he was, and unbuttoned and pulled bloody clothing off. He literally stripped down to his trousers, jacket and shirt of his suit tucked over an arm, then sauntered off to the car - 'Do I give a fuck?'

He was pissed off and upset about it, though. Everybody was.

The long story short is that the company was producing things for the military. That's why the money wasn't drying up any time soon. As long as the war kept going, we kept getting rich.

According to the protesters, Darren was a murderer.

---

Violet

The first time I saw a dead body I was 11. I don't know why I was there. Probably because I had to go with Mum and Dad everywhere.

There were all these angry voices of Mum and Dad's 'friends'. Swearing, cursing, blaming each other.

"Fucking idiot. You expect me to clean this up?"

"Yeah, y'know when I called? If you'd have listened-"

"Don't fuckin' give me this."

I didn't pay much attention because I cared more about the corpse, trying to edge closer and get a better look. It was laid carelessly on its stomach, still wearing the jacket and jeans it had died in. Were the eyes open or closed? Had rigor mortis set in? If I moved the arm, would it be floppy or stiff?

My mother grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back, eyes sharp and lips tight. No, I didn't get to investigate. My father did instead. He walked around it with that typical tired, jaded look on his face, then crouched down.

"Well, John?" one of the other men asked.

I didn't like it when they used that tone. I didn't like it when I knew my parents were getting bossed around. There was never anything I could do.

My dad wasn't a very big man. Not very tall and not very broad. He was pale as a sheet of paper, with dark hair and eyes to really enhance it. His face was always hidden behind a beard and he was good at being expressionless. He'd come from up north, and might've been in the south for years, but still had a bit of that Scouse accent.

I'm not sure what my mum's heritage was. Something hispanic. She certainly wasn't pale like my dad, but she was a Londoner, born and bred. She also usually did all the talking, so it was no surprise that she started answering when my dad had been questioned.

I watched Dad handling the body while Mum's voice went over my head. He was careful, respectful even. He turned it over and I saw that the eyes were closed, that the clothing beneath the jacket was soaked with blood.

"Well, maybe she can do it," a voice said, snapping my attention to the conversation.

"No," Mum replied. "For fuck sake." Her fingers gripped my shoulder again and pulled me back a little further, against her.

The man ignored her to crouch down in front of me. He was the one with the front tooth missing, and I hated it whenever he grinned, which he always seemed to do because I was a kid and he thought it'd make him seem more friendly to me.

"Vi, sweetie, do you want to do a little something for us?"

I blinked, then stared. I knew to agree, to keep my parents safe. They were the types of people who got in and out of situations un-noticed and unscathed, and left violence to others. My mum might disagree with this man, but then something bad could happen.

I was always getting used for things. I was the perfect decoy. Nobody suspects the cute little girl with big blue eyes and freckles.

They were probably trying to make the most of it before I hit puberty.

---

David

I don't want to paint a horrible picture of horrific things. It was always there in the background, but we were still a normal family living a normal life. Sort of.

My sister, Hanna, was born when I was 7. There was some drama about it. My mum spent two years trying to get pregnant, then when she finally popped out they discovered she had a brittle bone disease.

She cried a lot as a baby. My parents were horrified to find out it was because she had broken bones in the cot.

It could've been worse. She could still walk around, but she was always very delicate and careful. There were many, many accidents, things easily broken and fractured. She was barely a wisp of a thing. We both had our father's black hair and green eyes, but she didn't have the tawny skin. She was white as a ghost, with a thin face.

Sometimes, my household could be loud. And to contrast it was Hanna's little figure and shuffling gait, silently moving between rooms.

I didn't go to a private school - Dad thought they were a load of bullshit, and that I needed to experience the 'real world'. I suppose I did go to the most posh ones available that were state, with strict uniforms with blazers and things. My primary school was a bit of a trek across town, but by the time I was 9 I made the journey myself in the mornings. Because I wanted to. It was also around that age that I met Wesley.

He moved to the school at the start of Year 5. He was actually a year older, but he'd been held back, or something. I suppose he was that typical, lanky, funny guy. He got all the 'new kid' attention, and he thrived on it. I don't know how he became best friends with me, but he did.

We were always hyper, always being loud across the classroom, especially when the teacher seated us apart. But we didn't mean to be difficult or malicious. We always shut up when we were told to.

For two years, he often came around mine for dinner, for sleepovers. But I never went anywhere near his house. I didn't even know where he lived. I pestered him about it all the time, but he'd go very quiet and shrug.

"They're like my parents, but not actually my parents," he said.

"Like my uncles aren't actually my uncles?"

"Yeah."

At the end of Year 6, disaster struck. He had to move foster homes. He was going to have to move town. He couldn't go to the same secondary school as me.

I cried my fucking eyes out to my parents. I was going to lose my best friend. I would never see him again. Sure, I had other friends, but none of them were Wes. It wasn't the same. They didn't understand. They had to do something.

And they did. They did something amazing. They decided to adopt him.

My dad went through foster homes when he was a kid. He had a soft spot. I don't think my mum needed any convincing at all. She already loved Wesley like her own son.

It wasn't exactly a fast process. He did still go to that other foster home for a while as things went through, but it was okay, because I was going to see him again. It's hard to explain that absolutely explosive excitement when I was 11 years old. My best friend was about to become my brother.

He got to move to my secondary school as Wesley Keane. And we got to grow up together.

---

Violet

I was lucky to go to school, I think.

My parents did everything they could to make life bearable for me. When we did have money, they spent it on me. I'm lucky, in that sense. They didn't mean to have me. I was an accident that served to make their life harder. I could've been treated like shit. I could've even been dumped somewhere.

No, despite everything, they loved me. I think I loved them, too. The problem with my childhood memories is that I remember lots of events. I remember smells, tastes, things on my skin. I don't remember feelings.

Did I ever feel anything?

Very basic things, perhaps. I remember raw curiosity each time we moved into a new flat. Exploring every corner, every room. Pulling up the carpet to see what that lump was beneath, investigating every stain on the wall.

I remember that my primary school was somewhat of a comforting place. Other things kept changing, but that one stayed the same. I enjoyed going. I usually had a lot of fun doing my work, and I had some good teachers. There was one woman in particular, a classroom assistant, who tried very hard to understand me.

I didn't really have issues with other kids when I was younger. Things were never complicated enough for that. I liked to be very quiet, to sit at the back and observe. I suppose that was what the lady needed to understand. I wasn't shy. I just felt no need to fit in.

There was an incident, eventually, in Year 6. This one girl had never liked me. Apparently I was smiling at her 'boyfriend', and he smiled back. She started on me at lunchtime. She shouted in my face, pulled my hair, slapped me. I hit her back twice as hard, then I dragged her screeching to the school pond, and threw her in.

Most of the other kids thought it was hilarious, but the teachers and parents, not so much.

Mum had to come and pick me up on the motorbike. She told me I couldn't behave like this, that I must be good. She also reminded me how important it was that I didn't tell people about the things that went on at night sometimes.

---

David

I always got along well with my mum. Our humour was almost identical - if I ever found something funny, Mum was the first person I'd tell or show. Even before Wesley.

She also thought my energy was a good thing. She encouraged my hyperactivity, much to the disdain of everyone else.

If I can't quite explain why I got along so well with my mother, I also can't quite explain why I clashed so much with my father.

It doesn't really have this easy point I can think of, where it started. He just got annoyed with me a lot, and it got worse as I got older. It only took one of us to flare up, and the other would explode. Smacking was illegal as I grew up, but tell that to my dad. To be fair, I think the occasional slap on the butt or back of the head might've been the only thing to snap me out of it sometimes.

I didn't mean to be difficult, I just got carried away.

I got this bad idea in my head, that when I got older, I'd 'stand up to him'. I was probably around 12 when I was first brave enough to shout back. Wesley being there gave me a confidence boost, but Wesley never wanted to play up like I did. So I was on my own.

Dad and I argued about so many stupid things. Mum got so fed up with it, giving us looks until she verbally intervened. Wesley would let out this exaggerated, loud sigh at the dinner table. Hanna would look nervous. I was being a typical, insufferable teenager, but I swear, it was him sometimes, too. I think he had standards for me, and I wasn't meeting them.

When I was pissed off with him, and Mum was pissed off with both of us, I went to my uncles to rant. Usually to Tyler, especially when I was under 15.

He always took my father's side. I kept doing it, thinking that at some point he must agree with me, that I'd have some backup.

Nope.

"You know what your problem is, kid? You're a spoilt brat."

"How can I be spoilt if they never spend money on me?"

"No, you don't get things. But you want. That's the problem. This fucking entitlement. The sooner you realise and accept that you're being a little shit, the sooner you'll grow up and be a happier person."

"But-"

"No. The world sucks. We know. Stop being difficult. Now what was that physics assignment you've still not handed in?"

Could always trust Tyler to say it how it was. He didn't take bullshit. But then, neither did my father. I wonder why I listened to him and not to Dad, when they said the same things. Maybe it wasn't a fair field to judge - whenever something fun happened during my childhood, it was because Tyler was there. Tyler got me in doses, while Dad had to put up with me all the time.

It was always 'kid', 'kid', 'kid', for as long as I can remember. Mum used to get so exasperated with it - "He has a name, Ty."

It was a bad thing if he used my name, though. If Uncle Tyler ever barked a "David!", then shit was going down. And even worse, if Uncle Darren ever got angry with me, oh boy, was I in trouble.

Darren used to scare me a little when I was younger. He could be difficult to talk to, and his eyes were just so cold. My parents always scolded me if I did the smallest thing wrong around his house. Sometimes he had these grumpy vibes, too. He was just the family's 'patriarch'. He was always to be respected, everybody always did as he said.

When I look back on it, I honestly think he was bad with kids and had no idea what to do with me. So he left it to Tyler. It mellowed out when I got older and more intelligent. Suddenly we held all these conversations and I was spending more time around him.

I guess some of those nights where I stayed around my uncles' house were good for everybody. When I got older I just got too much for my grandparents to handle.

The problem was that my flare-ups with my dad were only the start. It spilled into the outside world. Things might've settled a bit at home, but they got worse at school. I had a lot of energy, but it just seemed to make me highly-strung and short-tempered as I grew up.


Hornet's Nest Ch. 01



There were a few times where I'd thump another child or behave boisterously, but nothing really out of the ordinary. So I guess it was a bit of a shock when I got involved in a huge fight when I was 15.

Kids could be really shitty to each other. I suppose it's the fault of the gang culture, invading the youth lifestyle worse than ever before. I tried to keep out of it, I always did my best to stay away. Sometimes I was targeted, because I was that 'rich boy', but I mostly brushed it off. Yet this one time of witnessing some heavy bullying, I just had to intervene.

And almost had my arse handed to me.

Thank fucking God that Wesley was there. But Wesley wasn't the one who started punching someone into the floor and didn't stop until he was dragged off. Wesley didn't get into trouble. Not like I did.

I knew I'd done fucked up, and I was terrified. Two other kids and myself were put into isolation while they 'called home'. I didn't want to be there when my dad came storming in after having an angry school on the phone.

They took ages before they got through to my parents. So they were busy. Great. Dad was gonna be even more pissed.

In the end it was actually Tyler who turned up. I heard the engine of his latest sports car pulling into the school grounds. He looked me up and down with my grazed arms and bruised face, raising an eyebrow like I was the world's biggest retard.

"What the fuck, kid?"

I was completely silent, until I'd been in the car ten minutes, then I blurted out, "I'm gonna get drafted."

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am. This is what happens."

"You're not gonna get drafted for one little fight."

"It's not like when you were a kid anymore. It's not the same. You don't understand."

He let out a deep sigh and gave me this look. "You really think you're gonna get drafted? Really, kid? With who your mum and dad are? Jesus Christ."

I wasn't sure I knew what he meant, or if I liked the implications, so I said nothing else. He didn't take me home. He took me to the company complex and dragged me up to my mum's office so I could explain to her what the fuck had happened. Me being an idiot and trying to dive to the rescue of another kid, basically.

"Is Wes okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's fine."

She touched my face. "Good God, David. You're just like your father."

"Yeah," Tyler agreed. "He is. Why do you think they argue all the time, Lia?"

I was shocked by how little my dad cared about it. He asked me if I was okay, looked me over with surprising affection, then asked, "Did you win?"

I had no idea. It'd been split up. Surely I wouldn't have been so bruised and battered if I'd won, right?

The unfortunate thing was that it seemed to open this door to me. Like some violent side had been tapped into, and it kept coming back every time my temper flared up. I hated it, because I couldn't control it. I did get into another fight at school. Then a third one outside. And the stupid thing is that I wasn't exactly winning these fights. Maybe that was what frustrated me so much.

People got regularly shoved. My voice rose a lot. A few chairs got thrown. Tables were flipped. I nearly hurt Hanna storming around the house, which scared me shitless. I couldn't hurt Hanna. I'd snap her in half. I'd kill her.

Tyler thought it was funny.

Sometimes I just couldn't handle Tyler's banter. I think as time went on, he naturally got along better with Wesley, while I got along better with Darren.

Tyler likes winding people up. He'd get too into my face, invade my personal space, put an arm on my shoulder that I didn't want there. I felt like he was starting on me, daring me to do something about it. He insulted my father all the time, but Dad never cared in the slightest. They were always chatting shit at each other. Dad would guffaw, and chuckle, and laugh some more. Tyler's being a prick again. Normal stuff.

I don't know, I guess I'm more sensitive. I guess it was only a matter of time before he pressed the wrong buttons. Or pressed the same old buttons too hard.

It was one of those nights - uncles were over for dinner, so everybody was sitting in the lounge talking afterwards. Tyler was pissing me off. I went out to the kitchen and could almost hear the eye rolls, a tut from Mum. He followed me. Was he going to apologise? No, no. He just kept going. Before I knew what I was doing I spun around and socked him straight in the face.

He went mental. I don't know if any more of my hits landed, he punched me in the head again and again. People dove in from the lounge.

Wesley yanked me away. Darren ripped Tyler back and threw him into the kitchen table. It scraped across the floor. A chair fell over and clattered.

"Fucking kid!" Tyler roared.

He tried to lunge again, but both Dad and Darren held him back. Blood was pouring from his nose. My vision was swimming. Dad gave me an open-palmed smack over the head, salt in the wounds. I stumbled and nearly fell, but Wesley caught me.

Well, shit. I done fucked up again.

Everybody was so angry. A bit of rough and tumble happened in the family, but never anything like that. For a few seconds, that had been... real. Darren was furious. He scolded both of us equally, booming voice piercing every wall of the house.

I was lucky that Tyler's the type of person who was laughing about it, literally thirty minutes later. He came into my room while I laid on my bed with some pitiful concussion. He still held a tissue, even if the worst of the bleeding had slowed.

"Sorry, kid."

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"You nearly broke my nose." He took the tissue away and checked it for any fresh blood. "Fuck my life. You're a fucking tank, like your dad."

It was only a matter of time before I tried it with my dad.

Two months later, Dad did his annoying thing where he raised his voice at me through my door, forcing me to come out if we didn't want some shouting match. I yanked it open and he was leaning against a wall on the landing, arms crossed, giving me his glare.

He bristled when I surged over. I wasn't thinking, as usual. I got up in his face and shoved him. He shoved me back. Shoved me again before I had any balance. I know it was an accident, but at the time, it seemed like grabbing me and throwing me down the stairs was exactly what he intended to do.

I thudded all the way down and landed at the bottom with a roar of agony. It echoed in the entire house. It was like the floors and doors shook.

This time Mum went mental.

"What the fuck? Zack?!"

Done fucked up again.

"I am sick of this!" she screeched. "You have got to stop this!"

Yeah, I did. And I knew it. I didn't understand what was happening to me. Did I have anger problems?

I writhed on the floor a bit, trying to figure out if something was broken, trying to get air back into my lungs, then dragged myself up to my room, ignoring the voices of my parents. They kept talking for a while, outside my door. Then there was a long silence.

It opened and my dad came in. "Son."

"I'm sorry," I instantly replied. It was always the same. Always my avoidance tactic. Sometimes I didn't even mean it, but if it would make them leave me alone...

"No. It's my fault."

He perched on the end of my bed, but wasn't looking at me. I felt treated like some wild animal as he approached with his side, trying to make himself smaller, appear less threatening. I was still aching and smarting from my fall. My right knee felt like it wouldn't work for days.

There was another long silence.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I started. "I don't know why I keep doing this."

"You get it from me."

"You think?"

"Yeah." He had his eyes shut and was massaging his eyelids, like whatever he had been 'discussing' with my mother had exhausted him. "David. There's some things I should tell you about."

My stomach tightened, but I said nothing. Just when he looked like he was about to continue, the door opened again, and Wesley poked his head inside.

"Are you two okay?"

Dad beckoned for him to come in without even looking up. Wes took the computer chair and wheeled it slightly across the floor, glancing between us.

"What's going on?"

"There's something I should tell both of you about," Dad replied.

"Oh God."

"Wes," I growled. Dad was opening up about something. I knew this was rare.

He leant his arms on his knees, and chose his words carefully. "When I was your age, older, even a bit younger, I was in a gang. I got into that environment because I behaved pretty much how you are, David."

That... actually didn't seem so bad.

"What, so you were always getting into fights?" I asked.

"Yes and no. You have to understand, it wasn't this petty shit kids these days are doing. It was a drug gang. I was involved in something beside hundreds of other people."

"... Like a fucking drug cartel? Are you serious?"

He didn't reply. He was staring at the wall.

"What were you? What did they make you do?"

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is that they recruited me because I was violent, and useful. Whatever I had, you've got it, so you've got to get over it like I did it. I thought it was just my childhood, but apparently it's fucking genetic." He looked at me. "Don't let it control your life. It's too difficult to get out of that world again, once you're in."

Wesley was spinning in circles on the chair, saying nothing. I guess I was in a slightly stunned silence, too.

"I honestly think I'll be drafted before I get involved in any gang shit, Dad."

"You're not getting drafted." He got to his feet. "Come."

We followed him out, into his and Mum's room. He pulled a box down from on top of the wardrobe, dropped it onto the bed, then reached further back, almost unable to get to whatever it was, even with his height. It was another box, dusty and webby from being tucked into a corner for however long.

He pulled a gun out, and gave it a toss onto the bed. "That's my only relic from those times."

A real fucking pistol. I stared for a moment, then picked it up, and the only stupid thing I managed to ask was, "Is it loaded?"

"No."

Wesley had a hand clasped to his brow, holding hair back from his forehead. He was still completely silent.

"Dad," I started. "That time when you were home for a week. With the broken rib. Was that because of this?"

"No, that was something else."

"What?"

He shook his head. "You'll know one day, when Darren wants to tell you."

"What? You got hurt because of Darren?"

"Yes and no."

"What the fuck?"

"It's not mine to tell, David. Ask him, if you really want. Tyler probably has some things he should tell you, too."

It tore into the fabric of my world. I was so confused. My family had all these dark secrets they were keeping from me? Why? Was I still 'too young'? I was freaking 16. It's not like I didn't encounter worse at school, or on the streets. I knew the world could be a bad place. Nobody could avoid that anymore.

Even if it stuck in my head, I didn't get the guts to ask my uncles anything for another few years. Just as well. I wouldn't have taken it well back then. Not that I can say I took it well when I did find out.

---

Violet

As if I had spent years holding my breath, I suddenly breathed.

I started to think, and see outside of my tunnel vision. I was hearing what people said. I was caring about things I witnessed. The world was opening before me.

I was feeling things.

Apparently puberty gave me emotions. Deciding to be more outspoken got me into lots of trouble.

I lost my cute round face - instead I got cheekbones, a slightly more defined jawline. The way my brows framed my eyes made me look... mean. I'd spend a while looking at myself in mirrors, wondering what I could do with eyeliner and mascara to alter my appearance, to achieve certain looks. How fierce could I look? How soft and kind could I look?

My shallow child body transformed. Hips and waist. Apparently not adequate tits, though.

When I was in that strange in-between stage, not quite child and not quite woman, I didn't have much use.

One of my parents' friends got annoyed about it. He had some genius idea that getting me to flirt with someone was going to get them what they wanted. Mum was against it in an instant, and after a few minutes he agreed with her.

"It'd never work. Look at her. Fucking pancake with a mean face. Only thing she's pullin' is shittin' pedo's."

He disgusted me, and the thought of what he could possibly ever want me to do disgusted me. I hated these people. I didn't understand why I was still getting dragged around with my parents. I was old enough to fend for myself now.

So I started striking out on my own. I could get around by myself, I'd do things by myself. I had some friends at school, I wanted to spend more time with them. The more I paid attention to the outside world, the more I realised that how I had been living was not the way things were supposed to be.

I might've only been 14, but I started getting big ideas. There were ways to make things better. Society had these strange layers. A hierarchy. It was a system, and there's always a way to play the system. I just needed to figure out how.

Unfortunately, the drafting threat was too much to deal with.

I was already on thin ice by the time I was 14, and one more incident pushed it over the edge. The school was kind. They warned my parents that I was on the verge of being taken into service, and advised that I should move, and have a fresh start somewhere. I was clearly having issues with the other kids, or the teachers, or something. For some reason, I just couldn't behave.

So I moved to another secondary school. And it didn't go well there, either. I had these sessions with a counsellor, until he seemed to decide I was a lost cause. When I got stalked and attacked by some gang kids outside of the school grounds, Mum decided it was time to move town, and school, again.

Getting into the third one was difficult. Schools might have been tolerant at the start, but all these switching students became a common thing, desperately trying to avoid their inevitable fate. They got sick and tired of trading delinquent youths with each other.

I think Dad, who was normally such a quiet person, having a go at me when I was 16, finally knocked some sense in.

I came into the flat drunk out of my mind. I was bleeding. Mum stormed out of their room at all my noise and commotion.

"Vi," she hissed, grabbed me, and tried to pull my hoodie off to see where and what my wounds were.

I swore at her and pushed her away. We had some short argument which went nowhere, then she simply shook her head, and left me to it.

Water splashed into my face to wake me up. I was sprawled across the floor in front of the sofa. My entire body ached, and some clothing felt stiff, sticking to my skin.

Dad's angry face glared down at me.

"Wake th'fuck up," he snapped.

"Fuck you," I managed in reply, and he tipped the rest of the water in the glass over me. I swore and rolled away while my head pounded.

"You wanna tell us w'fuck you did this time?" he continued.

I tried to get up, but just flopped onto the sofa, and said nothing. I felt so tired, so exhausted, I couldn't even fathom standing.

"Fuckin' look't you."

The right sleeve of my hoodie and right leg of my jeans were ripped. There were grazes beneath, and on my cheek. I looked at the little black bits of grit on my knee, stuck in the bloody scabs.

"Was parkour," I said.

"Freerunnin' and drinkin'? And w' was you freerunnin' from this time?"

"Nothing." Honestly, I couldn't even remember.

"The cops?"

"No." I would remember that.

Dad got to his feet and shook his head. "You gotta stop this, Vi. I don't understand w' you think you're doing. I dunno who the fuck you're hanging with now, but it's not workin', is it?"

"I'll talk later."

"No, you listen to me right now. You stop this. You stop being an idiot. We can't always protect you, we can't always save you. You're sniffin' out danger, bringing this on y'self. You come home battered, drunk, high, whatever the fuck. We never know where you are. For God sake, Vi. You're gonna get so hurt some day. You'll go too far. You'll be raped. You might even be killed."

I looked up. He stared at me with an empty gaze.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," he said. "Stop mixing w' these people."

Didn't he understand? I wasn't mixing with them. I was fighting them every time they tried to drag me in. I wasn't going to be someone's bitch in someone's shitty gang.

"Yeah," I replied. "You draggin' me about with all your drug dealers and murderers and whatever the fuck really gave me the best start in life."

"Och," he scoffed. "For fuck sake, Vi."

"You know what," Mum interrupted. "You think you're so much better than this? That you deserve better? Then prove it."

I blinked at her with a scowl.

"Start climbing out of the hole you've dug," she said. "You need t' aim for university."

"You really think I got a chance?"

"You have t' try."

"Uni is where all the rich kids go. And my school is fucked."

"You can still fix it."

I had barely passed my first set of exams. I only had two years before the next, fully defining set, then I was 18 and out on the streets, so to speak.

"Just think about your future, child," Mum said.

They both left for whatever 'adventure' they had that day. I dozed off on the sofa for a while, and awoke sometime in the afternoon. I still didn't feel great, but better than the groggy mess I'd been earlier, with their voices pounding on my ears. The conversation ran through my mind again while I took a stinging shower, picking bits out of my knee. University.

I sat in front of my laptop, staring at the rainforest background on the screen, thinking about the late coursework I still had to complete.

They were right, and I knew they were. But did I really have a chance? How was I going to convince some university to take me on? How was I going to push my grades up to an acceptable level?

With hard fucking work.

---

David

I always made sure Wesley kept up with his work. He could be a slacker sometimes. He'd just sigh and shrug, and say that whatever mark he got was whatever he deserved.

But he'd score higher if he tried harder.

He didn't seem to think he was that smart, but I knew he was. It shone through when something caught his interest. And for everything else, there was me. I remember rewriting and rewording an entire essay of his, because he was being lazy.

I was a straight-A student. One of those boring kids who made the effort, yet also loved sports, and sometimes got a bit too competitive and fierce. I really cared about winning. But that was all right. Dad said it was important for me to do physical things and burn myself out. Just don't purposely kick the football in someone's face again.

I think I would've become much more of a loner if Wesley hadn't been there. He was always going out, so I always went out with him, just because it was what we did. If left to my own devices, I'd have spent much more time shut in my room. I wasn't exactly shy. I wasn't antisocial. I just liked doing my own things.

We had the same friends - our little lad group of colourful personalities. Everyone had their own 'role'. Wesley was the funny one, of course. Mine was the most boring, as I suppose I was the 'leader'. I had to be the most neutral. I had the initiative, the big ideas, made the decisions, but alongside it all was the most sensible. Might seem hilarious considering how irrational I'd been in earlier years, but I was slowly becoming very disciplined and controlled.

I rushed to get my driver's license once I turned 17, because as soon as we were all 18 with legal nights out, I was obviously going to be the designated driver. Not like I was buying a car any time soon, though. Mum and Dad weren't buying me one. And Darren was very sternly told that he was not buying me one for my 18th, either.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 01



There was just work, work, work, and exams around that time. And preparing applications to universities. Monotonous things broken up by Wesley coming into my room and telling me we were going out. Sometimes getting lifts from Tyler. Wes was always convincing him to drive us around, and I know he just loved turning up places in front of our friends in an expensive sports car. Uncle Tyler was cool, man.

Wesley went through about three girlfriends during secondary school. Then a boyfriend. It mildly surprised everyone, but not me. I had seen it coming. I knew why he kept going to Tyler for advice. The openly gay kid at school had been flirting with him for a while, and he'd never exactly turned him down.

Wes wasn't gay. He wasn't even sure if he was bi, he was just curious. But apparently he could pull both genders, while I hadn't had the tiniest bit of success with girls yet.

I don't know why I was so hopeless. Nobody seemed to be interested in me. A girl did ask me out at one point, but I rejected her. I was an awkward idiot. I mean, she was nice, but I didn't know anything about her other than thinking she had a pretty face. I regretted it a couple days later, but didn't have the guts to go back on it.

I guess that was my problem. Not knowing how to make the first move. Not really knowing what I wanted.

I had my parents as an example. They just seemed so ridiculously perfect, so in love, for as long as I could remember. Hell, even Darren and Tyler were perfect in their own way. I wanted that. I wanted my soulmate.

I wanted my perfect woman, but I didn't know what my perfect woman was.

Did I have really high standards, or something? Was I really bad at talking to girls? Was I doing it wrong? Was I offending them, driving them away? What was my problem?

It became the next thing Tyler thought was funny. I wasn't taking it. I got touchy about it extremely fast.

"Tyler, shut the fuck up."

He chuckled, started to say something else, but I got in there first.

"I'm sorry I'm not a fucking slut like you were, all right?"

I achieved two whole seconds of silence, filled by Dad bursting into laughter. Tyler's shock turned into a grin.

"Hey, kid-"

"Fuck off."

Dad knocked on my door later that evening, though. He came in with that look on his face that made me uncomfortable. Like he had been thinking about something, and was still thinking about it, so he was almost looking 'through' me and not all 'there'.

"David," he started. "Are you gay?"

There was a pause, my eyes widening.

"Holy shit!" I erupted.

He bristled, but backed off. I also made sure to back down. We were beyond this. We didn't do this, flare up at each other anymore.

"No."

"I was gonna be fucking surprised if you said yes," he retorted.

"For fuck sake-"

"I thought you of all people wouldn't have issues coming out, if you were."

"Exactly? Fuck sake, Dad. Can everybody just leave me alone about this? Why is it a big deal? Weren't you a virgin 'til you were twenty-something anyways? God."

He chuckled and shrugged. "You're right. Take your time. You don't want to be like Tyler."

My voice quietened. "I just... want to find someone right, like you did with Mum."

His arms crossed, and I could swear he looked genuinely proud of me. "Keep your eyes open, then, or you'll miss her. And be brave."

Yeah, be brave. Guys always have to make the first move. Fuck sake.

The days were counting down until Wesley and I were leaving for university. We'd managed to get into the same one, but we were taking different subjects. We were going to be flatmates, though, and I was appointed head tenant of the housing. We'd spoken to the others we'd be sharing with online, but yet to meet them. Agency had set us up.

Please, no difficult roommates. Please God.

"I don't know what to do when you're both gone," Hanna said, trailing me around the kitchen as I laid the table for the last family dinner. "I'm gonna be so bored."

"It'll be peaceful?" I offered.

She giggled. "I'm gonna miss you, though."

"We'll be home for holidays and weekends and things."

"David," Mum said. "Can you make the gravy? Where's Wes?" She disappeared to poke her head into the hallway and yell up the stairs.

It was supposed to be a slightly more special, goodbye sort of night, but it was as normal as normal gets. Dad and Tyler were swapping yet more of their own university stories, and he was actually managing to embarrass Tyler for once. He buried his face into his hands and muffled his laughter.

"Stop, Zack. Stop."

"Well it wasn't exactly fair of me, was it? I'm-"

"Jesus Christ!" He knocked Dad's drink into his lap to shut him up. Mum squawked at them. Darren's hand went to his brow.

Yep. Normal.

We were supposed to play some board game afterwards, but it didn't happen. Everybody was too distracted. Maybe because we also knew there was no point in playing, as Darren always won.

Settlers of Catan, he somehow kept track of everything everyone had in their hands. He always convinced us to trade him the things he needed, while giving us the things we thought we needed. We all knew he'd win if we traded with him, yet we still did it. This time, this one time, would be where we outsmarted him.

Nope. He'd sit there towards the end with a giant hand, the winning combo coming up, while everyone desperately tried to roll a 7 to screw him over.

Monopoly, he was just too smart and always had a strategy. And always lucky. He and Mum could get so fiercely competitive - he always picked on her, building where she wanted to go in Catan, buying the properties she wanted in Monopoly. She'd glare at him across the board with her lips pursed, and he'd just look back with a smile.

"Problem, Lia?"

It cracked me up every time. It was a rare celebration if someone other than Darren ever won a damn game. When I was a child, I thought everyone let him win on purpose. Then I got older and discovered his lethal combination of smart and lucky for myself.

No wonder he was good in business.

The lounge was getting incredibly loud that night. It always got loud when Wesley, Dad, and Tyler got together, but it was like they were overdoing it, making up for the next few months while we'd be gone. Hanna retreated from their boisterous behaviour, shuffling up on the sofa beside Darren, curiously peering over his shoulder. He was scowling at whatever was on his phone's screen, his typical grumpy face.

Mum chuckled as she handed him a glass of wine. "Good God. You're getting just like Vince."

His face fell more neutral and he raised his brows at her, then shook his head. She just nodded back with a cheeky smile. He obviously wasn't happy about that comparison.

Amongst the antics, Tyler managed to knock over the second drink of the night, a fizz of Coke all across the carpet. Mum rolled her eyes and Dad cuffed him over the head. Darren disappeared outside for some quiet, holding his phone to his ear and talking in his business voice.

In a strange way, I was going to miss this. I mean, I couldn't wait to be out in the world on my own, but all the things I hated about my family were also the things I loved. I'd never be completely alone, at least. Wesley was always going to be there.

Ten minutes later, Darren hadn't come back in. I wasn't surprised if he was taking a break from the noise. Sure enough, I found him sitting on the bench in the garden, phonecall finished, enjoying his glass of wine in peace.

"Hi," I said, sitting beside him. His chest bounced with a chuckle.

"Headache?"

"Getting out before I get one," I replied. "I don't know how you live with Tyler."

"Would you believe me if I said he's not always like this?"

"Yeah, I believe you."

"You kids bring out his inner child." He took a sip of his wine. "I can't believe you're going to university."

"Yeah."

"Where have these years gone?"

I grinned and shrugged.

"I can't tell you and your father apart anymore, when you're talking in the other room. It just sounds like some bloke talking to himself."

I chuckled, and as if on cue, Dad's guffaw rang out from inside. "I don't sound quite like that, do I?"

"Not quite. But close."

There were clinking sounds from the kitchen, and more laughter. Tyler's head poked out the back door, flashed a grin at seeing us, but went back in without saying anything.

"He's hoping you get a girlfriend at uni," Darren said.

I sighed. "Yeah." I sat forward, elbow on my knee and forehead buried into the palm. "Darren. Why am I so bad at talking to girls?"

"I might be, quite possibly, the worst person to ask about girl troubles."

"Or the only unbiased one."

He smiled. "I'd suggest talking to them like people, not like 'girls', David."

So I was doing something wrong? What did he mean?

"You're not bad looking in the slightest," Darren continued. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Just worry about what's on the inside, huh?"

"No, you're not a bad person. You think with this." His knuckles tapped my chest, over my heart.

"Yeah?"

"Just like your mother." He drained his glass and got to his feet, to be social for the rest of the night. I followed him inside.

"Hey, kid," Tyler said, gripping my shoulder before they left out the front door. "Guess what. You got through school without being drafted." He hugged me, and I squeezed him back until he wheezed. "Take care of yourself. And have fun."

The door shut and Wesley stood there, grinning at me, so excited.

"Early night?" Mum asked. "Train's pretty early tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah," Wesley said, and we both thundered upstairs. We sat in his room for a bit, chatting while he checked online to see if there were any new messages from the flatmates we'd be meeting the coming week.

Going into my own room, I sat on my bed in silence, pulling my socks off. Most of my things were already packed, suitcase and laptop tucked against the wall by the door. More things would be taken later, when someone could do the drive. For now, it was just getting in with the basics.

I laid awake beneath the duvet for a while. I was never good at sleeping when I knew there was something specific happening the next day, but it wasn't just that. What Darren had said, and the way he said it, was bothering me.

Maybe he was right. 'Girls'. I just didn't know. I felt like I hadn't known enough females, like my upbringing was spent surrounded by males, with two of them being basically gay, which didn't help. Tyler was always unhelpful with relationship advice. Sex? Sure. Actual relationships? No. He basically had none to give. Said he'd never had any healthy relationships with women. No healthy relationships with men either, before Darren.

Sure, there was my mum, but with the dynamics between my parents, she was conventionally feminine, and my dad was conventionally masculine. All I had learnt from her was that if I was big and manly, with a beard and hairy chest, everything was fine. Oh, and buy roses sometimes.

Then there was Hanna, who always had to be treated like a delicate and fragile thing with her bone disease. God.

Yes. Maybe he was right.

Maybe it was why I had no idea what to do when I met Violet.

---



Hornet's Nest Ch. 02



---

Violet

The first 'Keane' I met was Wesley.

He was in my social science class. I watched him for a few days, like I watched everybody.

The way he simply sat next to someone, introduced himself, and struck up quick and smooth conversation, was fascinating. Whatever the topic was, he kept it flowing. If talking was an art form, he'd nailed it.

It was in every expression he pulled, every simple mannerism - he was friendly. He had a friendly face, attractive in a generic way. Squarish and proportionate. Light brown hair with a few tufts that were more blond. Hazel eyes. The type of features an agent would happily snap up into a modelling contract.

Perhaps it was marred by his build needing to 'fill out'. He was easily over six foot, with long, lanky limbs, uncomfortably close to clumsy.

Each class, he made his way around the room, sitting next to different people, meeting and talking to everyone. It was only a matter of time before he reached me. I patiently waited for it, curious to see what he'd talk about, how he'd be.

When the day finally came, it was the first time he'd come to class late. The door opened with a slow creak and he poked his head inside. He gave an apologetic look towards the tutor, like he was worried about interrupting, and getting in trouble, and whatever else. She simply gestured for him to come in without stopping her flow of words.

I guess we all had to get used to how differently we were being treated. We were 'adults' now.

He bee-lined across the room, took the chair beside me, and sat down. But said nothing, as the class was already underway. His gaze stayed on the screen at the front, trying to scribble down some notes on what he had missed.

When the opportunity came, he turned to me with a grin, and held out a hand. "Wes."

I shook it. "Vi."

"What's that short for?"

"Violet."

"Oh, right, so you don't have one of those weird gang kid names."

I blinked. "Do I look like a 'gang kid' to you?"

"Yep."

I stared. He held my gaze. "Gang kids don't get into uni," I said.

"The smart ones do."

"Right." I hadn't expected this. His eyes, the certain tone in his voice. "So which one?"

"No, I'm not in."

"Right. Neither am I."

His expression was blank, but he looked like he didn't believe me. "Used to be?"

"Not anymore." It was a much easier answer than actually trying to explain.

"Okay. Cool."

There was a moment of silence. I was waiting for him to say something more, but he didn't. Was he waiting for me, or actually reading the paper his eyes moved across?

"You'd have run a mile if I was?" I asked.

"Nah, just be extra careful about pissing you off. And know who to go to, if I wanted some weed."

I snorted. "Well, I can still get you that."

His face cracked with a grin. "Give us your number, then."

"Yeah. Smooth."

"What?"

"Real smooth. I'm serious. Almost worked."

"No, no. I'm not asking you out. I seriously want some weed."

I couldn't even read him anymore, whether he was being sarcastic or genuine. I was seeing that things might not be as different at university as I was expecting them to be.

"I have a sorta, um, boyfriend right now," he said, as if trying to assure me he was telling the truth.

"Oh, wow."

"I'm not gay," he hurriedly replied. "This boyfriend, it's sorta complicated."

"Right."

"Yeah, he's mad at me. He's gone to uni all the way up north and I'm down here."

"Okay."

"I'd rather go to uni with my brother than him, you see."

I just didn't even... this guy. He was weird but funny, awkward and easy to talk to at the same time.

"So why are you studying this?" he asked.

"... It's fascinating," I replied.

"Yeah, it is. People are fascinating." He glanced around the view of the room, then looked back to me. "You're the opposite to me, aren't you? Pefer to sit at the back and watch, while I want to meet everyone up close."

"I suppose. People like you make my way easier."

"Yeah, I see. Riding off all my hard work, eavesdropping on all my conversations."

"Exactly."

He grinned again, shook his head. "You studying anything else?"

"Physics."

"What?" He scowled at me like I was mad. "Why the fuck?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I just scored freakishly high in my exams with it. So it was easy to take it."

"Are you serious? Nobody can fucking do physics. Oh my God, you must be like my brother, everything just sticks in his head. He always aces exams. You must be in his class, who's your tutor? When do you go?"

I told him my timetable, he laughed in delight. "Holy shit, you are in Dave's class."

"Dave?"

"Yeah, David?"

I frowned at him, falling silent in disbelief. There was a 'Keane' in my physics class, but I hadn't made the connection. I had pictured Wesley's brother to be some twin or something, if they were the same age, and starting uni together.

"The black-haired guy?" I asked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, he's my brother."

They looked nothing alike. David was a bit shorter, but much broader than Wesley's frame. He had big shoulders, a more compact and sturdy build. Not to mention their features. Everything about David was sharper, darker. Their hair, their eyes, hell, even their skin tones. Completely different.

"Erm," I started. "How did that happen?"

"I'm adopted."

"Oh. Right."

He looked cheerful about it. We completely slacked on our work as we sat there talking, even turning a few heads from others in the class. He was very open and willing to talk about his private life. He almost gave me a biography.

"I kept having to attend these visits with her," he was saying, "but they stopped forcing me once I turned eighteen. I just don't want to see her anymore. She hasn't changed. She might be my birth mum but she's not my real mum."

"And you have no idea who your father is?"

"Nope." He slouched back in his chair. "Don't really care either. I have a family now, and they're awesome. I'm so lucky. It was, like, unreal when I was younger." He gave me a cheeky grin. "They're rich."

"How did you manage that?"

His grin broadened. "Made best friends with the rich kid at school."

"You clever bastard."

Then something just twigged in my brain. But, I figured everyone who was going to university must be rich, so I needed to know...

"Just how rich are they?"

He chuckled. "Oh, you know. We live in a huge mansion in the countryside, with this massive pool. Me and Dave both got super expensive sports cars for our birthdays." The sarcasm was thick. His tone went a little more serious and he gave me a genuine look. "We have a nice house, and there's always food on the table."

"... Sounds nice."

"Yeah."

Class was drawing to its end. Wes checked the time on his phone. "So, can I have your number? Like, seriously. I need some for tonight."

"I don't know if he'll have any that short notice."

"But you'll do what you can, right?"

I sighed, pulling my phone from my pocket. "Sure. Whatever."

*

I had a physics class later that day. So far, in a very short time, I was disliking it. I didn't know how I was going to stay and manage the work without dropping out. It seemed a stupid, terrible thing to take.

Wesley had suddenly made it seem more interesting.

I arrived a little early, like normal. I was the first to walk in. The tutor looked up from her desk and laptop, giving me a quick smile.

"Hello, Vi."

Before I headed for my usual spot, I changed my mind - I turned left, for a desk on the other side of the room. I took the seat David had been sitting in, every class so far.

Slowly, the other students arrived. I watched each one coming in through the door, waiting for it to be him. Was he going to be late like Wesley? Some came in pairs, in trios, chatting away. So many faces, so many clothes, and none of them were what I wanted. Hurry up.

He finally arrived. I saw his black head of hair as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, and had a little tingle of anticipation.

He looked so average, dressed in a zip-up hoodie, dark wash jeans. Rich kid, huh? Some students were making much more effort to look like they had money. His head was down, flicking through his phone's screen, wires of earphones going from the collar of his shirt to the sides of his head.

He approached, looked up, and stopped. Pulled the earphones out and blinked at me.

"Have I stolen your spot?" I asked.

He gave his head a shake, but said nothing and sat down at the far end, two seats away, and dropped his bag to the floor. He fiddled with his phone again, slid it into his pocket. Crossed his arms on the desk and stared at the front.

The class started. People took out their laptops, some preferred working with paper. He was in my vision as I watched the screen and tutor. Not obvious that I was studying him. Perfect.

I can't say I'd paid him much attention before. He was quiet, sitting the other side of the room, and didn't do anything to make me notice him. Even now he was the same, despite the fact I had stolen his comfortable spot, leaning my elbow on the desk and back against the wall. He was fully focused on the front, listening to the tutor.

I was only paying half attention.

The way he was turned, I didn't get much of a view. But every time he looked down at his laptop to take notes, I got the profile of his face.

His hair was a jet-black shade, not just a dark brown. Dyed or natural? Judging by his eyebrows and facial hair, natural. His chin and jawline were lightly bearded, that slight scruff to it of fading adolescence. It still had to fill out on his cheeks a little.

He had a chiseled jaw. Perfectly smooth cartilage of his nose. Everything about his features was just sharp. Angular. Defined. Dark lashes that brought out his eyes.

He tossed me a glance, but I was writing.

I was betting he looked good under those clothes. He had nice hands. There was a certain weight behind his movements, the subconscious confidence of someone who knows they have physical power.

His head turned again. We made eye contact for the shortest moment, then he looked to the front, glanced back at me, and quickly looked away. So uncomfortable. Pretty cute.

The work took my attention for a while. When he looked around again, I met his gaze. This time he held my stare, as if waiting for me to look away first. His brow furrowed as our eye contact stretched into a longer silence. Maybe I looked like I was about to say something. Honestly, I wanted to, but nothing came out. I was too distracted by an involuntary increase in my heartrate.

I think I was smirking. There was a flash of irritation to his expression. He stayed focused on the class from there on. Slightly disappointing. As fun as it was making him fidget, it wasn't smart to overdo it.

My phone buzzed with a message five minutes to the end. An unknown number, and all it said was, "Vi?"

"Wes?" I replied.

"Yh. Can you get it?"

"I'm still in class."

"Oh ok."

I studied the side of David's face, looked down at my phone, and started typing again. "Your bro doesn't talk much, does he?"

"Haha, no. Tell him Wes says hi."

I considered it, pushing the phone back into my pocket. Before I had an opportunity, there was a vibration from David's jeans instead. He leant back from the desk to pull it out. His eyes darted over the screen and he grinned. Somehow, I knew it was Wesley on the other end.

David typed something back. It vibrated again, he read the message and shook his head. A subtle and small movement he only did to himself. Intense curiosity burnt through me. What were they saying to each other? Was Wesley, by any chance, telling him to say hi to me?

He put his phone back in his pocket, then mine vibrated again. Oh my God. Really? David gave me a suspicious glance this time. What were you doing, Wes?

"Don't tell Dave about it," was all the text said.

Right. Okay.

Class was over, people were starting to pack away. I decided that my notes were too few, and sitting next to a cute guy I was intentionally trying to distract might not be good for my grades, or his. He could have his seat back next time.

An hour of class and I hadn't heard him say a word. He was a tough nut, wasn't he?

My elbow brushed his back as I passed him to leave. His head snapped to me, and in that brief moment of eye contact, I said, "Wes says hi."

He frowned. It was dark, almost a scowl. He looked, honestly, confused as fuck. But still said nothing.

For fuck sake. I filed between the other students, out the door. I was sure the tutor had picked on him some day earlier, and tried to remember what his voice sounded like.

I was going to hear that voice.

---

David

I sat myself in the lounge with our other flatmates, waiting for Wesley to get back from wherever he'd fucked off to.

We had three sofas squished into a small space in front of the TV, which was on, but the volume was low, as people were chatting. I was looking at something on my phone, not in the mood to join in. I wanted to be sitting in my room, but had decided it would cause problems if I kept doing that. I had to be sociable. I had to mix.

There had already been an argument, over the dishes. 'Someone' had broken the dishwasher. I saw the blame as pointless - technology just gives out and breaks sometimes. The landlord was being difficult and slow about getting it fixed, so I'd suggested calling in someone to repair it ourselves and splitting the cost.

One of the girls went mental - "I didn't break it! I'm not fucking paying!"

"Nobody 'broke' it," I replied.

"None of my stuff was even in it the night it broke! I had nothing to do with it! Why should I have to pay towards it?"

I was just... dumbfounded. I was asking for a tenner.

She left some passive-aggressive note taped to the cupboard above the sink the day after that. It was aimed at another of the guys, not me, at least. He was super pissed, ripped it down, and thudded down the hallway to her door, banging on it, yelling and swearing at seven in the morning.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Why were people like this?

That girl and guy were starting to get snarky at each other again now. I looked up from my phone and gave them a dull stare, ready to intervene. Another girl - the blonde short one, Melissa - shook her head at me. She had her face squished against her hand as she leant her elbow against the sofa's armrest.

The front door opened and slammed shut to break it up - Wesley finally came in. Every head in the room looked around to him. He grinned.

"I got a dealer."

Another guy's fists went up in the air in triumph. "Yes!"

Wes vaulted himself over a sofa, feet narrowly missing someone's head, and threw himself down beside me.

"You better not bring that in here," I said.

"Don't worry," Wes replied.

"No, seriously. If they come in here for a check, and they catch even a whiff of weed, we're all in shit."

"David," the other guy sighed.

I stared at him. "If they find even one sealy in here-"

"He's right," the dishwasher girl interrupted, wrinkling her nose in a snobby disgust. "I fucking swear, if I come in here and there's even the slightest smell, I'm ratting you out."

"Wow, you're a bunch of uptight bitches."

"Just keep it out," I said.

"You're like my fuckin' dad or something?"

I bristled, sat forward, kept staring at him. "You know who has to deal with the fucking landlord each time you're gonna be a prick?"

"Hey," someone said. "Come on."

"No weed indoors," Wesley said, holding his hands out in a gesture for everyone to shut up. "Okay? We get it out and we smoke it out."

"Fine."

I shook my head and got to my feet. I was hoping this was just a 'settling in' thing, that people would start getting along and the tensions would disappear. It wasn't a pleasant living space so far.

I shut my room's door, but didn't lock it, as much as I had the urge. It was still pretty bare, at least compared to my room at home, but right now, that was fine. A relatively empty room didn't clutter my mind. I sat at my desk and lifted my laptop's screen, running a hand through my hair.

I didn't know why I was in such a bad mood. I brought up some notes I needed to organise and read through them.

... There was this girl in my physics class.

She'd caught my eye on the first day. There was something about her that stood out from the rest. Her gaze shifted around like she was a little bewildered, confused, daunted by the surroundings. She sat alone the other side of the room. Every class, she sat in the same place, appearing bored, restless.

She'd turn around, swivel in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the clock on the back wall. That was usually when I got the best glimpses of her face.

I suppose for the first couple weeks, I had been casually watching her without realising what I was doing. My mind was so engaged by the work I didn't notice my own wandering gaze.

Today, when I walked in, she had been sitting in my spot.

Shit. My mind had completely blanked. She was something distant, the opposite side of the room, now she was right there. She almost had these unfriendly vibes. I didn't know what to do.

I could feel her eyes on me during the class. Maybe she had noticed me looking at her, and was trying to return the favour. I felt like an idiot. That whole hour, I kept wanting to say something, but couldn't suck up the courage. Each time I looked around, I got butterflies. It was ridiculous, and embarrassing. There was no way I'd get a coherent sentence out.

She wasn't exactly tall, not exactly short. Her legs looked long, even if she wouldn't come above my chin. She always wore tight fitting clothes. Low-cut skinny jeans to boast her hips. One time a short skirt with leggings. Tank tops and plain t-shirts. A button-up blouse.

Even if she looked like she'd rip me apart for trying to say something to her, she had a beautiful face. Striking blue eyes that weren't a cold shade. More dark, deep. The type of eyes that guarded the person inside. Her skin had an olive tone, decorated by darker brown freckles on her cheeks and shoulders. Auburn hair framed her features, longer strands just about touching her collar bones.

I had tried to hold her gaze, wondering if she'd say something. Nope.

She wore one of those tight white tank tops. It was slightly transparent. Colours of her bra were showing through. Heat started in my ears when I realised I'd even been looking at her chest, and I desperately tried to stop it spreading to my cheeks. Physics isn't sexy. Focus.

Her arms were toned. Her whole build seemed lithe, athletic. She moved with this grace, like she glided weightlessly across the floor. What did she do? Was she a dancer? In some sports team? A swimmer?

Fucking hell. I walked out of that class feeling a flustered and sweaty mess. Because a girl had been sitting six feet away from me.

I'd had an hour to say something. And been as useless as normal.

And now I was in a bad mood.

Great.

Raised voices of flatmates were coming through my door. Oh God. Please. Fucking stop.

Footsteps approached in the hallway outside. Wesley poked his head into my room, making everything louder the moment he exposed me to the rest of the flat.

"Hey, Dave."

I grunted.

"We gotta do something about this dishwasher."

"Yeah, no shit."

He chuckled and disappeared again. I collapsed on my stomach on my bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and could still hear nearly everything going on. Snarky, needling voices. There was a moment of silence, then the front door slammed shut. Someone had stormed out.

I didn't understand why doing some dishes in the sink was such a big deal.

I pulled my phone out and typed a message to my dad. "What did you do with nightmare roommates?"




Hornet's Nest Ch. 02



His reply came a couple minutes later. "Got them kicked out."

I grinned at the screen. "How did Tyler last, then?"

"Ty was a great roommate. He just abused the bathroom lock being broke."

I chuckled and massaged my forehead. That sounded about right.

Wesley came in again. "Hey, Dave." He was even worse with knocking than at home.

"What?"

"You're coming out later?"

"Yeah."

*

The hot girl was back in her usual spot next physics class.

I considered going over to her side and pulling the same shit on her. Didn't have the guts, of course. I took my typical seat, leaning my back against the wall, and looked across the room at her.

She looked back.

Fuck.

I was desperately trying to concentrate on what the tutor was saying. She was explaining how we'd be heading into lectures and labs with a professor once all these introduction sessions were over. Workload was going to double. I was beginning to wonder how I'd juggle this alongside chemistry and biology. Why had Mum thought it was a smart idea for me to take triple?

Talk about fulltime education. Overtime even. But if it kept me from being drafted, hey, whatever, right?

There were a few moments of awkward eye contact with the girl during that class. I wished I could remember her name. I knew I'd heard it before, why had I forgotten it?

I hung outside the door for a few seconds at the end, thinking I'd wait for her and try to say something. Nope. Quickly fucked off. I'd just make an idiot of myself. I needed my head straight with some proper composure if I was going to do it right, not be some stuttering mess.

Mum called that night, checking up on me, how things were going.

"What's this about nightmare roommates?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "It's nothing big."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I'd be ringing you up and crying about it if it was."

She chuckled.

"Mum," I started. "How much do you know about dishwashers?"

"Oh, goodness. Um, hmm... It'd probably be better to ask Tyler."

The next day was a beautiful sunny Saturday. Wesley left with most of the flatmates to check out a nearby park - he was integrating with them quite nicely. I'd have some peace and quiet that afternoon. I did some research, pulled the dishwasher out, and decided I really had no idea what I was doing. So I called him up.

"Kid?" he asked.

"Tyler, are you home, are you busy?"

"Yes, and not really. Fuck, I'm not coming all the way down there for a lift, kid."

"Nah, mate. Do you know anything about dishwashers?"

He grunted. "I don't really do appliances."

"Well, I need to fix one."

"Call a technician?"

"That's kinda complicated right now."

"Yeah, here you go, doing everything by yourself again, huh? And googling it hasn't helped?"

"Pretty unhelpful." I raked my fingers through my hair. "Do you know anything or not? Want to just give me some moral support?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know. Can set it all up, the lights all do their shit, but it won't start."

"Wow. That's pretty vague, kid."

"Please help me."

He chuckled, sighed. "Okay, okay."

I left him on loud speaker on the counter while I started pulling things apart. There were some noises from his end - he was pulling out and taking apart his own dishwasher, to try and guide me through it. There was briefly Darren's voice in the background - "What the fuck are you doing, Ty?"

Of all the roommates to be home, it had to be the dishwasher girl. Of course, she hadn't wanted to go to the park with the others, with all the arguments. She came in and frowned, watching me for a few seconds, but left me alone and disappeared.

"Yeah, the round bit," Tyler was saying. "Mine's blue. Do you see it?"

"There's a lot of 'round bits'."

"Fucking hell. I don't know what these parts are called, and even if I did, you wouldn't."

I guess it's pretty hard, trying to fix something, when you don't know what's broken.

"Oh shit," I said.

"What?"

"Fuck."

"What, kid?"

"I done fucked it up now, there's water going everywhere."

"You didn't fucking disconnect it before you started taking it apart?"

"I thought I did!"

I scrabbled around, trying to stop it and clean it up. He almost squeaked with laughter down the phone.

"It's okay, it's okay, it was just some leftover stuff inside. I think I found what broke it. Oh God, this smells so fucking bad."

"Jesus Christ," Tyler chuckled.

It took over an hour, but I got the fucking thing working. Some other flatmates came home during it and I had a couple of spectators. They helped me fill it with some plates once I had everything back together. There was a little laugh and cheer as it turned on.

Dishwasher girl got in while it was swishing and churning away.

"Hey, Claire!" one of the guys called. He gestured at the kitchen. "Check it out."

She came over to me on the sofa, face contorted in one of her frowns. "You really fixed it?"

I gave her a glance from my laptop screen. "Yeah."

She just kept frowning. She didn't look happy, but it wasn't her normal expression. What was wrong? Baffled that I'd just done something that needed to be done? Feeling bad that I'd gone to all the effort, when she wouldn't even hand over a tenner for a repairman?

She was very quiet that evening.

*

Physics classes were turning into a farce.

I wish I could say that I'd got my act together faster. That I hadn't let it become such a joke.

For maybe two weeks, we sat on opposite sides of the room, tossing each other glances. Sometimes a few seconds of solid eye contact. After a while, facial expressions. Tiny conversations through smirks, blinks, frowns. Slight head tilts, darting eyes. And amongst it all, not a word.

The longer I left it, the more difficult it became, until it was impossible. It felt as though there was a physical barrier stopping me from approaching her and saying anything. My muscles went rigid at the thought. My throat closed up.

She was playing me.

She fucking was, and I knew it.

The whole thing seemed to be amusing her too much. She'd obviously been trying something that time she sat near me. I hadn't done what she'd wanted, or what she'd expected, so she'd changed tactics. She was waiting for me to talk. To make some move.

It was almost reaching the point where I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

*

Wesley and I had a new town to explore. Bus routes to learn, shops to find, streets to map. We were spending the next Saturday walking around in our comfortable duo, hopping on random buses and seeing where they stopped. Getting off when something looked interesting.

We could get horribly lost, but that didn't matter. Locals could always point us towards the university again if need be. I was sure they got plenty of wandering freshmen every year.

Wherever we were walking came full circle, back to the high street with the main shopping mall. Wesley looked behind, then in front, and frowned.

"This town is weird."

"Yeah, I thought we were way over there."

It was growing dark earlier and faster. We were getting into October. Had the first month of university really gone by already? If life kept going this quick I'd be 40 before I knew it, greying at the temples like my dad.

Wesley picked up a milkshake from a stand down the high street, trying to haggle the price with his best charm. It didn't work. We sat on a bench to rest our legs, watching flocks of pigeons waddle closer and closer, hoping we'd drop something edible.

"Are we eating out somewhere?" I asked.

"Nah, that's fucking expensive." He took a slurp of his milkshake. "I got some pasta at home."

"Unless someone ate it already."

"Nah, mate, I got a massive stash in my room."

"Genius."

"I'm ready for the apocalypse. Pasta and canned food, it's the secret."

"The good sauces won't keep."

"Yeah, you gotta learn to love dry pasta if we end up in a nuclear fallout, Dave."

A pigeon tottered around my feet, head bobbing, giving me an evil look - how dare I not have any food? I moved my foot and it didn't flutter away. I poked it with the tip of my shoe, it gave its wings a flustered flap and puffed up its neck feathers. I was being started on by a pigeon. Fuck me.

Wesley was silent, frowning at his phone. He scrolled up with a flick of his thumb, then back down again.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Pretty sure I've just been dumped."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

It probably sounds like I'm bad-mouthing Wes if I say that I wasn't surprised. But I wasn't. He rubbed one of his eyebrows, re-reading a number of messages for the second or third time.

"This guy is a dick," he said.

"The problem is probably that he was looking for a boyfriend while you were looking for sex, Wes."

"That's not entirely true. And besides, I told him at the start of this. He knew I didn't want something too serious."

"Yeah, well, you can be an arsehole sometimes."

"I know. But this wasn't one of those times, I swear." He handed me his phone. "Look. Look at this fucking dickhead. Is this called for?"

I never felt in any position to comment on his relationships. How could I talk, when I hadn't had one? But he always wanted my opinions.

"Pretty uncalled for," I agreed.

"I told him I was going to try and make this work. He was just waiting to find someone else, and now he's found someone else, he breaks it off with me. Fucking dickhead. Couldn't do this earlier? Save me this whole month of shit he's been putting me through?" He let out a deep sigh, shook his head, and started typing a reply.

"I guess boyfriends are just as much hassle as girlfriends," I said.

"Yeah. Looks like it." He slurped loudly on his straw as he tried to drain every last bit from the cardboard cup. "There. Done. Now he can fuck off." There was a pause of silence, and he threw the straw at some pigeons that were getting too close. They swarmed it, before deciding it was uninteresting, and edged closer.

"So," I drawled.

"Yeah."

It was hard to tell how affected Wesley really was, sometimes. He felt things, definitely, but they passed quickly. He could be upset about something, even cry about it, but the next day it was as though nothing had happened. Whenever he got angry, it burnt out after he'd shouted a single sentence. He just didn't seem to have long periods of intense, sustained feeling.

"There's this guy," he continued. "In my psychology class. I think he's gay, not really sure. Might try and find out now."

And that was what I really didn't get, what I couldn't relate to. He moved on that fast. It made him look like a bad person. I knew he wasn't.

I was starting to say something, reminding him that he was about to look a massive cunt, and prove what his now-ex was saying was true, but I cut off. People were hollering down the high street.

Despite the crowds of shoppers thinning as evening closed in, there was still enough of a throng to see people reacting to some commotion. They either darted or were shoved to the side, parting and flowing away from something, like water at the hull of a ship.

A sprinting figure was what they were avoiding. It looked like there were more chasing it, shouting and swearing.

The figure was coming right at us. The flock of pigeons panicked and flapped into the air, a deafening flurry of wings.

I knew that face. Holy shit, I knew it. I tried to move from the bench as she hurtled towards us, but couldn't react fast enough. She was a blur of black hoodie and grey tracksuits. There was no collision. She vaulted and leapt over the bench, maybe six feet in the air, effortlessly. Landed and rolled. Sprung back to her feet. Kept running. Perfect momentum.

"Holy shit!" Wesley cried.

We were both off the bench, looking after her as she kept going down the high street. Three guys were on her tail, but they went around, not through us.

She kicked off a bin, leapt at the wall of a building. Used the drainpipe and climbed up. Vaulted onto the balcony of some apartment above the shop. Across the railings, another drainpipe. Scaled it to the roof. Disappeared from view.

The three guys remained at the bottom, swearing. One shoved another and shouted in his face. They took one glance around and ran off.

Wesley was laughing and hooting, hands clasped to the sides of his head. I had no fucking idea what I'd just seen. Other people from the high street crowds were shaking their heads, some talking, but mostly falling back to normal as if nothing had happened.

"Fuck," Wesley said. "That's Violet!"

My gaze snapped to him. "You know her?"

"She's in my soc' science class! Fuck, mate, she's in your physics class. Don't you know her?"

I don't know what expression I pulled, but Wes didn't see it because he was staring at the roof she had climbed and disappeared to.

"You've spoken to her?" I asked.

He brushed at the bangs of hair on his forehead. "Dave, she's my dealer."

"What?"

"Yeah." He just gave me a shrug.

"So you know her? Holy shit... She said something to me, something like 'Wes says hi'. I thought I just misheard her."

I couldn't believe it. All this time, Wesley had been casually interacting with her? While I couldn't even manage a 'hi'? I was almost angry.

Wesley studied my face, then chuckled again. "Holy shit, Dave."

"What?"

"She tried talking to you? And you just fucking blanked her?"

"No, I-"

"Yes you did. Just like normal. Oh my God, you're a prick." He clasped a hand over his face, laughed more, and sat back down on the bench.

"You have her number?" I asked.

He erupted into louder laughter. "Mate, nah, you're not doing this. I won't let you be that guy. You fancy her, don't you?"

I didn't reply.

"You blatantly do. Fucking hell. Go into your damn class and talk to her. I can be an arse sometimes, so can you. She tried talking to you?"

"She sat next to me this one time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and since then, she's just been staring across the room at me."

He smacked his forehead with the heel of his palm. Twice. "So you blanked her."

"Not on purpose, I just didn't know what to say."

He let out one of his exaggerated sighs. "Yeah, well, she doesn't really talk. She always sits at the back in my class. Says nothing to anybody, unless they talk to her first."

So, apparently, it was a big deal that she'd sat near me and made the effort. It could've been so easy to say something. Just a hello, make some comment on the work. Easier than what it'd turned into now.

I gestured at the building she'd climbed up. "Do you have any idea what the fuck that was?"

Wesley shrugged. "Fuck knows. She's a gang kid, Dave. She says she's not anymore, but she could be full of shit." His tone went a little more serious. "You be careful if you talk to her, yeah?"

I swallowed. This wasn't helping. "What?"

"I'm just saying. She's a bit rough, she gets me weed, she just ran up the side of a building to escape three angry guys. Dad would probably have a fit if he knew we were hanging with someone like her."

---

Violet

It was the first day of 'labs'. Another room to find on the sprawling campus. A new interior to get used to. A new seat to pick.

I arrived early, as was growing typical of me, I suppose. I always liked to check out some new territory as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the door was locked, so I had to wait for the professor. I was wondering if I had the wrong room - five minutes passed and nobody showed up.

Three people did, at last. The only other girl in our small class, with two guys in tow.

"Oh, good," Chanice said to me. "Always know I got the right place when you're here."

She'd been talking to me quite a lot, stopping me in the corridor a few times. I think she was drawn to me, the only fellow female. She kept asking me things about the town, wanting information on where to go for nights out with 'her girls'. I was just waiting for the next person to ask me to get them drugs.

We didn't talk in class so far, though. She was getting a following from the guys, and they kept her busy. I'm sure she enjoyed it even if she pretended she didn't.

I wasn't receiving the same attention, and wasn't sure if that was an insult, or a relief. Can't say I'd ever been complimented with the word 'friendly' before, so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised.

That girl, though. Friendly was definitely the word. She was busy friend-zoning the whole class.

Except David.

David didn't speak to anybody. But he liked to stare. At me.

She could flirt with every guy there, so long as she left that one to me. I might get vicious. I was heavily set on something which was nothing yet. I couldn't deny the childish excitement each time I had a physics class.

More students turned up, and eventually the professor. Our professor was late to our first labs session. Fantastic.

He apologised and spoke in a quick voice, unlocking the door and letting us file in one by one. I hoped he'd speak slower during lectures, or I was going to miss everything he said. He had a big grin - he was going to be one of those typical ones, far too energetic about his field of expertise.

I spotted a seat in the corner, sat in it, and looked towards the door just in time to see David coming through.

His eyes shifted around and found me. He held my gaze and headed right towards me.

Shit. My stomach actually tightened with anticipation. Yes. Come here. Fucking finally.

He almost slammed his laptop bag on the desk. I flinched. For a moment he just stood over me, as if he needed to demonstrate how big he was before he spoke.

"What the fuck were you doing on Saturday?" he asked, in one of the gruffest, roughest voices I'd ever heard.

With one elbow on the back of my chair, one on the desk, I blinked up at him.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

"My name's Vio-"

"No. Seriously." He took the chair beside me, but didn't break eye contact. "What was that?"

This... wasn't actually how I'd planned for things to go. Wrong place at the wrong time, and all. Honestly, I was hoping he wouldn't have recognised me on that chance encounter. But Wesley had been there, too.

The professor's voice was starting to fill the room. David broke his stare to glance at the front and pulled out his laptop. I did the same. Then he looked back to me, speaking through his frown, the way his mouth tightened. He wanted his answer.

"I do parkour," I said.

"Okay. Why were those guys chasing you?"

"Because they're cunts."

"Excuse me," the professor interrupted. "You two lover birds at the back. Would you mind sitting a little nearer to the front? There's not enough of you to fill this room, no need to be shouting so far."

Nice. There were a few snickers from other students. David's face fell, close to mortified.

"Sir," he started. Might as well have scoffed a 'please'.

The professor simply gave a cheeky smile, fingers beckoning in the air. David picked up his laptop and got to his feet, I followed. The professor patted an empty desk, right at the front.

"There'll be no 'sir' in here," he continued. "I have a name."

We sat down in our new, designated place. David gave me another look, I shrugged in return. Apparently neither of us wanted to talk and risk being called out again. We were silent for a while.

I leant in closer, brushing my shoulder against his, and kept my voice low. "I'll talk after class, aight?"

"All right."

That brief moment of clothed contact excited me. Fuck knows why. This guy was just intriguing me in ways I couldn't explain. I'd never been one for thinking about my feelings, or trying to understand them. I just impulsively reacted.

Some of my impulses right then were very unsuitable for the environment.

We had three shitty hours of class. We didn't do anything, we were simply told how things would be once we did do things. It was an interesting room, full of drawers and cupboards and some equipment on display. Computers around the sides, which seemed pointless as every student had their own laptop.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 02



I was incredibly bored. Even David was browsing through some random shit on his laptop. My swinging foot kicked a leg of his chair. His eyes glanced down, then back to the screen.

I thought it'd be a good idea to do it again. I was like an attention-seeking little kid. Please look at me. I've been seeing the side of your face for weeks. I want you to look at me.

Kick. Kick. Kick.

My foot missed the chair leg and hit his shoe. A smirk was spreading at the corner of his mouth. He kicked back.

Kick.

Kicked back.

Kick.

He suddenly chuckled and his head snapped around. "What?"

"Lover birds," the professor scolded again.

Sweet Jesus. Maybe if David's laugh wasn't like this loud guffaw. Maybe if his whole voice wasn't just, so... gruff.

The end of that class couldn't come fast enough.

---

David

I was amazed that I wasn't feeling any nerves. It was more like relief, that this was finally happening. Some thick ice had broken and it was calm waters beneath.

I was behind her as we waited to file out the room, barely an inch between her back and my front. The top of her head was level with my chin. There was some faint scent from her hair - maybe a shampoo, or some perfume. I didn't know. It just smelt nice.

My chest touched her back. She sort of slithered away from me, tossing a glance over her shoulder, and re-adjusted the strap of her laptop bag.

We walked in silence. She seemed to want distance from anyone in our class, from anyone at all. She moved through the corridors and down the stairs with a determined speed, forcing people out of her way. She didn't even look at me until we were in the chilled air outside.

"So what do you want to know?" she asked, digging her hands into the pockets of her leather biker jacket. Our walk slowed to little more than a dawdle.

"Why did you climb up a building in the high street?"

She grinned. "I told you."

"Yeah but-"

"Lots of people do it."

"Can't say I've seen it."

"Then you've not known the right people."

"Yeah," I said. "Gang kids?"

She scowled at me.

"Wes told me you were one," I continued.

"Wes can go fuck himself. I told him I'm not."

"But you used to be?"

There was something dangerous to the way her eyelids flicked. Her lips were tight. It was difficult to hold her narrowed gaze.

"I'm not in some shitty gang," she said, tone flat.

We both fell silent for a few seconds. I wasn't sure where on campus we were heading, we were moving without any particular direction. Maybe some nerves were actually starting now.

"Why were those guys chasing you?"

She sighed, and stopped. One hand left a pocket to adjust the strap across her front again. "I wish you hadn't seen me there. Anything, other than this, might have made a better first conversation."

"Sorry?"

"How badly are you thinking of me right now?"

"What? I'm not thinking badly of you."  "Bullshit."

Fuck me. This was going well. "I'm not making any judgements until I hear things from your mouth."

"Right, okay. And tell me why I should tell you anything?"

I just stood there, trying to think of what to say. Various things went through my mind. We've been staring across the room for two weeks. I like you. Do you like me?

"... I'm curious."

She chuckled. "Okay."

I shrugged hopelessly. "And I'll tell you about me?"

"That might not be a fair trade."

"What, you don't think I'm interesting?"

Her gaze flicked up and down me. She smirked and her eyes narrowed in a different way. My breath caught in my throat. Shit. I wanted to start blathering things. Could I just confess a massive crush to her face?

"You're different to Wesley," she said.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You're kinda cute."

I swallowed. My ears felt hot.

"Okay," she started. "So you wanna know? I was running from those guys because I stole something from them."

"Right."

"Nine ounces of weed, from their car. It wasn't theirs, and I was returning it to its rightful owner."

My head automatically nodded, even though I didn't feel as though her words were sinking in.

"They're from a street gang in this town. I don't know how big they are, but it's big enough, while also not being enough for me to have heard of them before."

"So you're a dealer."

"No. I know dealers."

"You get Wes weed."

"Because he's too pussy to go himself."

My face muscles were stiff, I hoped my expression was blank. She started walking again, I joined her.

"You're in shit with this gang?" I asked.

"Nah. They're in shit with who they stole from. They're not gonna have time to worry about me."

Wow. Just wow. This girl, she was from another world. Completely nonchalant, yet feral. Alarm bells were going.

Alarm bells were exciting.

She paused to look about the surroundings. "So, you want nothing to do with me?"

"No, I mean-" God, this was so fucking awkward. My mouth was working faster than my mind, and I was having to concentrate on not saying something stupid.

Her next expression was hard to read. Her voice was a little quieter and she looked me right in the eye. "I'm moving on from these things. Or at least, I'm trying to. I mean, I got into uni." She gave a sheepish grin. "It's kind of a big deal for me."

And now it was even worse. She was terrifying and cute at the same time. She was everything I shouldn't have and everything I wanted, bundled up in one perfect package.

I'm saying this in hindsight. At the time, I had no understanding of my feelings, except that it was making it hard for me to talk.

I couldn't say anything because I had no idea what to say. I just sort of... smiled.

She was better at conversation than me, even though she stood there looking lost for a moment. We'd hit a rut so she moved it on.

"Where do you stay? With Wes?"

"Yeah, we're flatmates. Some of the provided housing off campus."

"Okay. I have a room on campus."

"In halls? Where?"

She gave an arm wave in some direction. "Over there. Wes knows. Ask him." Her eyes met mine again. "I have to go. I have things to do."

"Okay, sure."

She might have been lying, just trying to get away. I didn't know. With a pretty awkward parting she headed left while I went right. Damn it. Did I get an A for effort, at least?

Amongst all the swirling feelings, there had been an unpleasant pang again, when she mentioned Wes. It was at least the second time I'd felt it, the first being back in the high street. It was like Wesley was a threat or something, like my brother was a risk of competition over this girl.

I never wanted to butt heads with Wes like that.

---

Violet

A simple smile had thrown me off.

I had expected a little more shit from him. He could be brash. Everything about his mannerisms was brash. I thought he'd be more of an arsehole, someone who needed some softening up. Apparently not.

There was something innocent and naive about him, but I liked that. I don't think he ever tried, or meant to be rude. He was just one of those people who was a little blunt, down to earth, no nonsense. I liked that too.

He didn't know how to talk circles like Wesley could. I didn't think he was even capable of lying.

The smile said that he accepted me. That easily. I didn't have to try and defend myself, spend a while bullshitting, pitching my life, painting a picture of how I wanted it to be received.

This was a breath of fresh air.

*

Hormones were playing up.

My phone buzzed with a message while I was concentrating on my laptop screen. Fucking great, now I was out of it. It only took the slightest distraction. Porn was so boring, constrained by rules and regulations. Unlike the real thing. I heard it used to be better 'back in the day'.

I closed the laptop and pulled the headphones off, rolled onto my back on the bed, and slid my fingers beneath my jeans to the familiar slick feeling at my crotch.

Phone buzzed again.

Fuck off.

I angled my hips slightly while I started to rub. It always felt better with my stomach tensed.

Another vibration, another message. Then again. And again... And again.

I considered holding the damn thing to my clit if they were going to be so persistent. I was finally feeling something from my fingers when it started to buzz differently. They were calling me.

I grabbed the phone with my free hand, saw Romain's name, and flicked my thumb to answer it.

"Let me wank in peace," I growled, and hung up into his laughter.

He still kept messaging. I chuckled to myself but ignored it.

If I was so desperate for release, why was it taking so long? I switched techniques, grinding my hips into my hand, holding still and letting my fingers do the work. Finally gave in and let my thoughts wander to David.

I pictured how he'd look between my thighs, running his tongue over me, gazing up from beneath those lashes. Shit. Yes, this was doing something. I hoped his horny eyes looked as good in reality as I imagined in my mind.

The climax struck faster than I expected. I pressed onto my clit, trying to draw out each pulsing convulsion in my crotch. Fuck, yes. It was a good one. I let the moan rip out of my throat, collapsed back against the pillow with a grin. Yeah. Thanks David.

I wiped my fingers off on my shirt and checked my phone, Romain's string of messages.

"When?

Girl.

Girlie.

Purple flower.

You comin over here? Vi.

Yeah, flick that bean girl.

Does this help?"

He'd been so kind to send one of his many dick pics. I snorted and deleted it without blinking.

"Bit small," I typed in reply.

"Girl. You wan see me?"

"Yeah."

"K. You comin here?"

"Yeah, give 20."

"K."

I changed into suitable running clothes, and dry knickers. With the dropping temperatures, gloves would be a good idea, perhaps a scarf, too. I wrapped one around my neck, locked my room's door, and left the building to hit the dark streets outside. I lifted a scarf coil to cover half my face and pulled up my hood. Jogged to warm up, then I was off.

People not understanding what I did was actually normal. David's confused frown was familiar. It was about getting from one place to another, as fast as possible. Why should I spend money on public transport, when I could get where I needed to go, twice as fast as any bus, with my own hands and feet? It was simply a bonus to be acrobatic and near uncatchable.

It wasn't as uncommon as people thought. I'd only started doing it because I'd seen others do it.

It was fast. It was free. It was exhilirating.

I wasn't bullshitting Romain when I said I'd be across town in twenty minutes. With perfect breathing I could go forever.

I slowed around a corner, took a turn into an alley. The club wouldn't be open tonight, but the owners were always there. I hammered my fist on the metal fire escape door. Waited. Hammered again.

It opened with the clank of the bar inside. I pulled my hood and scarf down. The guy glanced around my features and nodded at me.

"Aight, Vi." He stepped back and hollered inside. "Romain!"

It was always stuffy inside. Always smelt like sweat. I went through the back rooms while Romain was on his way from the opposite direction. We came across each other and he held his arms out in greeting.

"Heyyy," he drawled, grabbed my hand, and slapped my shoulder.

I loved him for being a stereotype. Tall, dark skinned, dreads for hair. Thought cannabis was God's gift to the world - 'This war would be over if everyone rolled a joint, sat down, and chilled the fuck out.'

"What you need, girl?"

"A shit ton, for this weekend."

He laughed. "Yeah, you need the peng. What's happening?"

"There's some big party at the park."

"The one ten minutes from the uni?"  "Yeah."

"Define a 'shit ton', Vi."

I discussed the details with him while he sat down and rolled one. I watched his fingers sprinkling tobacco and cannabis, rolling and tucking, giving it quick a lick, smoothing it, lighting it up. He always took care, made it look nice. He offered me a drag but I shook my head. I liked to be alert.

"Oh yeah," he said, reaching into a pocket. He handed me £100 in cash. "This is for you."

I flicked through the notes. "Generous."

"Yeah, boss thanks you. Clean job." He took a drag and exhaled deeply. It was mostly a sigh. "Keep away from the south side for a bit. Gonna be turf war. Dumb shit."

"Don't have any reason to be down there, anyways. I'm pretty busy."

He grinned. "How's uni goin'?"

"Good." I perched on the table. "Honestly, it's a bit weird."

"Why?"

"These rich kids. They want to do all the same shit poor ones do. Like they think it's cool, or something."

"Kids are kids wherever you go, Vi."

"Yeah, I guess."

He waved a hand at the air. "This society. The way they try to split us. It's bullshit. Government does it to control. People's people. We're all the same."

"Yeah, okay Romain. Lemme get my tinfoil hat."

"Hey."

"Economy naturally splits people."

"And gov keeps it that way."

"Yeah, okay. Fuck the system."

He chuckled. "You jus' keep comin' if you need anything. Gets you friends, huh?"

"I wouldn't call these people friends."

"Smart girl." He took another drag. "What's all this wanking about? You havin' trouble getting some love?"

"I'm all good. I got my eyes on someone."

"Oh, I see. Well, if that doesn't work out, you know where I am."

I snorted. "Nice try."

"Damn." He stubbed out the remains of his joint. "I'm outta town next weekend. Shall I say hi to Mum and Dad for ya?"

"Was hoping I'd be seeing them before you did."

"You's busy, girl."

He made me go over the park party's details with him again before I left, then I was back into the chill outside, pulling my hood up.

I liked Romain. I think it's impossible to dislike someone who's calm and good-natured. But he was someone I'd learnt things from, and moved on from.

I was moving up.

---

David

We sat together again next physics class. Even if I'd been thinking of sitting somewhere else, I had no choice, as Violet beamed the moment she spotted me and patted the empty seat beside her.

Damn. It was like sunshine was breaking through her usual overcast demeanour.

We received a few glances from other students. I didn't blame them. There was obviously something going on there. She was flirting - even I wasn't dense enough to miss that. She'd been flirting ever since she'd started with those big blue eyes across the room.

I was perfectly aware by now that she was into me, I just I hoped I was doing enough to return it, that she knew I was into her, too.

Guess I was over-thinking it. I think we had a painfully obvious blossoming romance going on. I mean, even the professor noticed on the first day of labs.

I kept it to myself, though. Wesley knew I had made the move to talk to her, that the ice was broken, that we were friendly now. But I hadn't really talked to him about my feelings. I'm sure he was busy piecing it together by himself.

*

Flatmates were being their usual selves, but nothing new had flared up since the dishwasher incident. There had actually been some nice conversations, some funny moments. Bonding, I guess. When you're sharing living spaces you just have to be on relatively good terms, or it's unbearable.

There was talk all about campus, about the upcoming weekend. Something happening in the park. An acquaintance in biology told me it was the town's tradition. There was an area in the park where the council hosted a massive bonfire and fireworks display for Guy Fawkes Night.

Sometimes, people liked to use it for whatever reasons all year round.

I didn't know what the reason was for this party. All I knew was that there was going to be a bonfire, hundreds of students were going, and it was a big deal.

So, of course, Wesley was in on it. Every flatmate was in on it, even Claire. Everybody was going.

It was starting Friday night, and if the police didn't get pissed off, it would continue throughout Saturday.

I was late out of chemistry labs that Friday. It was already dark. When I got in, everybody was getting ready to go out. Wesley shoved a plate of microwave-heated pasta into my hands - I retreated to my room and tried to juggle eating and changing while people thudded up and down the hallway.

"Dress warm," I heard Wes saying. "Forecast says it's gonna get cold."

How cold? Would there be lots of standing around? Would I need two pairs of socks? Eh, whatever. Jeans, shirt, hoodie, jacket. And a scarf. That would do.

We left onto the streets in a pack of eight. There was a nip in the air, but it wasn't too bad. There were others on the pavements, heading the same direction as us. I wondered if these parties were something the town locals loathed.

"You got any?" I heard Adrian ask Wes.

"We get some there," he replied.

It's not like a party-goer could get lost. The bonfire was obvious from miles away - the smoke rose above buildings, the glow could be seen against the night sky. The park was swarming, perhaps busier than any normal sunny day. The crowds gathered in the firelight on the open grass field, far away from the playground. A small stretch of woodland surrounded it.

It was a huge park. It was nice. The atmosphere was actually pretty nice.

There was music playing. There looked to be people selling drinks for anyone who hadn't brought their own. It was some sort of student party, and I wondered if it was council organised after all. It just didn't look some wild, booze and drug filled street fest.

We headed towards the fire and stood there for a bit. Then our group split in half - I found somewhere to sit with Wes, Melissa, and Adrian, while the other four disappeared somewhere else.

There was a crackle of the bags and Mel offered me a can of beer. I shook my head.

I suppose it was just thirty minutes of sitting in the heat and light of the bonfire, talking in slightly raised voices over all the noise. There were passing acquaintances. The crowds were full of people recognising each other from university. First years, second years, third years...

At the sound of a motorbike, Wesley's head turned. I noticed a few others reacting, too. The weed had arrived.

It was a nice looking, lime green motorbike. I almost choked on laughter. Was the colour supposed to be a sign? It pulled up on the grass, slowly and carefully steering around with rumbling engine. There were two figures on it, faces obscured by helmets. It stopped at the edge of the crowds, quite near us.

Slowly, subtly, people in 'the know' drifted towards it.

The girl on the back swung her leg over and hopped off. She pulled the helmet from her head and ran a hand through her hair.

I got butterflies. Fuck. It was Violet. Of course it was. Stupid me.

The guy stayed sitting on the bike, but also pulled off his helmet. I had that unpleasant pang again, wondering who he was. The dealer, obviously. But anything else? Come on, she wouldn't have been flirting with me if-

Stop, idiot. Over-thinking and fretting.

The crowd that surrounded the bike was so casual, so discreet, I was actually impressed. But it was starting to block my view of Vi.

The dealer got up, and he towered. Ridiculously tall. When I say ridiculously, I mean someone taller than my dad. He gave generous, bobbing nods of his head, and grinned a lot. Cool and relaxed with everybody. Such a stoner.

Wesley got to his feet and I decided to join him. He tossed me a smirk. Yeah, Violet, man. Duh.

The dealer was greeting people like they were long friends, slapping and gripping their shoulders with his left hand, offering a shake with his right. He slipped the little sealy bags into their fingers with the handshake. Something similar was happening with Violet, but people were slipping her the money.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 03



---

David

I woke up feeling like fucking shit.

Something had happened, and I knew it was going to turn into a big deal, but I couldn't get my head around it.

I seemed to be first awake, so I went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. It was like I was washing away proof during that shower, removing the evidence of what had happened. And anger simmered while thinking about it. What the fuck had happened, exactly?

She just came onto me like that, out of nowhere. No condom, no nothing. Just fucked me on the forest floor.

There were a lot of things to worry about. STDs, pregnancy? And more than anything, wondering what it even meant, what was going on between us. Nothing was following the rules of how I thought it should go so far. I was... confused. Worried, I guess. Worried that she was going to be 'one of those girls'.

I didn't want to be that kind of person. I didn't want her to be that kind of person.

The TV was on when I got out, our living space coming to life as everybody woke up for a drowsy Saturday, recovering from whatever had happened to them at the bonfire. I ducked into my room and shut my door before I saw anyone.

Wesley came in while I was doing crunches on the floor. He had bed hair, only wearing boxers, and his gaze was fixed on his phone.

"Dave."

"What?" I growled.

"Hanna's pestering me, about if we'll visit before Christmas."

"Fuck do I know."

"Fuck you moody about?"

I laid out to stretch my aching stomach. "Nothing." He knew me too well for me to lie. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to talk yet. I rolled over to start with push-ups.

"You're supposed to work out before you shower," Wes said.

"Fuck off."

He chuckled. "Man you're grumpy. Still following Dad's advice, huh?" He wandered over, multi-tasking between me and his phone. "Work harder, burns you out faster." He sat on my back.

I nearly burst into laughter, and managed about three more push-ups with his added weight before my arms trembled, muscles going like jelly with my chuckling. I flattened on my chest and chin. "Dick."

I knew he was grinning even if I couldn't see it. "Yeah, Hanna says we're dicks too if we won't be there to take her trick-or-treating."

"Fuck sake." I struggled up and shoved him off.

"Seriously, are we going?"

"I don't know. Why you always gotta ask me? Why not organise something yourself?"

"Because you always make the decisions about this stuff."

I sort of growled and sighed at the same time, sitting on my bed.

"What's up, Dave?"

I raked my fingers through my hair and turned my head away from him. I didn't know how to say it. I guess I was embarrassed. "Can you give me Violet's number?"

He let out a light chuckle. "Mate, you've still not got it off her yourself? Come on."

"Wes, please. She fucked me last night."

"What?"

There was a silence. I only made brief eye contact before staring at the floor. Wesley's expression fell blank, then twisted into a frown. He said nothing else and gave me his phone.

*

I sent her a bland text - "Vi, it's David."

... And had no idea what to do with myself while I waited for a reply. Was she even awake? I sat on my bed, staring into nothingness until my phone vibrated with her one-word answer.

"Hi."

No time for bullshit. "What happened last night?"

There was a long pause before her response came. "I gave you what you wanted."

I stared at the screen. For fuck sake. "What if it's not what I wanted?"

The wait was even longer, and my mind inevitably raced. I'd worded that pretty badly, she might take it the wrong way. I might've fucked up any chances of being with her. Shit.

"Then you're the weirdest guy I've ever known," her reply finally said. It vibrated again. "Or gay."

I managed a smirk. Even if I didn't know her that well yet, I read the messages in her voice.

To hell with texting. I tapped at the screen to call her.

She must've had her phone in her hands, but didn't exactly rush to pick up. I stared at the wall while I waited. Three rings, four rings, five rings. Her voice.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"No. I'm just... I want to talk. Can I see you?"

"... Okay."

There was a slightly awkward pause.

"So you wanna meet up?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay. The corner by campus main gate. Meet me there, twenty minutes."

She hung up without giving me a chance to reply, or saying anything like a goodbye. It was almost business-like. Damn it girl, I'm not buying drugs.

I dressed properly, but it was only a five minute walk, so I once again just sort of sat about doing nothing with ten minutes to kill. When I put on my jacket and headed out, Wesley was in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal. He gave me a head to toe glance.

"You going out?"  "Yeah."

"Seeing her?"

"Yeah."

"Seeing who?" Melissa asked from the kitchen, but I was already shutting the door.

*

Vi was there at the corner, leaning against a lamppost with her hands in jacket pockets. Not quite dressed to kill like the night before, but those jeans still showed off her legs. She watched me approach with her head ever so slightly tilted, a smirk spreading at the corner of her mouth.

I stopped about a foot in front of her. She looked me up and down with something close to expectance in her eyes, but I didn't know what to say, so she ended up speaking first.

"So... are you unhappy about last night?"

I blinked. "What's going on with us?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? What the fuck is going on?"

She stared at me, as if dumbfounded. For a split second I felt like this was hopeless, like I was talking to a brick wall.

"You're fuckin' uptight, aren't you?" she finally said.

I scowled, but getting angry just seemed to amuse her.

"What have I done wrong? Have I stepped on your toes or something? Wounded your little macho pride?"

"No." Well, actually, maybe yes. None of my feelings made any sense to me right then. "I just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Do you want to be with me?"

Her mouth was open as she stared at me with another head tilt. Like I was a complete and utter retard.

"So that's what this is about?" she said. "Oh my God. You want to ask me out?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Go on then."

"... Will you go out with me?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Yeah, all good now?"

I looked away and clasped at my head, finally breaking into a grin. Her arms went around my middle with a muffled giggle into my chest.

"You're cute, David."

"Is this for real, though? Like, no screwing around."

She looked up at me. "No, no screwing around. I like you."

I touched at her cheek, cupped it, and leant in to kiss her. Her lips were so soft. And warm. A wordless confirmation that things were okay, things were good.

"I like you a lot," she said when I pulled back.

"Yeah, well, I like you too."

She took my hand, tugged my arm, and we were walking. I once again had no idea where we were going, just ambling in some direction. There was silence between us for about two streets. I still had things on my mind. I wasn't quite settled yet.

I struggled with how to ask something that seemed so awkward. "Why no condom?"

She tossed me a glance like it was a stupid question, as if I should know. "I'm not getting pregnant."

"You're on the pill?"

"No. Injection."

"Oh. Right." Our steps were in a nice rhythm as we walked. Left, right, at the same time. Even our strides were the same length. "And I don't have gonorrhea now or anything?"

She erupted with a surprisingly squeaky giggle, ripping her hand away from mine and spinning around to block my way on the pavement. "Holy shit!" She shoved me. "Fuck you. I'm clean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She tried to shove me again but I knocked her arms away. It only made her grin bigger. She made a third attempt and I gripped her shoulders to push back. She resisted with that same strength, feet planted firmly on the ground. So for a second I gave everything I had.

"Yeah, okay," she growled when I almost slammed her into the fence. "You gonna show me those muscles sometime?"

I let go of her. Damned butterflies again. "Only if you'll show me yours."

She scoffed and pressed into me. "Aren't your feelings still hurt from last night?"

"Hey, come on. I'm just trying to be sure."

"You're uptight."

"You're obviously not a virgin."

"And you are?"

"Well, I was."

Everything about her wiggling, her teasing, just stopped, and she bit her bottom lip. "So you're all mine, huh?"

"I guess."

For a second her eyes were actually affectionate, instead of that playful, sexy look. Then she took my hand again, and continued leading me down the street.

We walked thirty minutes into the town centre. Casual chatter grew easier and more comfortable. I was relaxing, but she still teased me about being 'uptight' a couple more times. Flirted about how she needed to 'loosen me up'.

She gave me butterflies over and over again. I guess she had me wrapped around her finger. It wasn't just the way she swung her hips, the big blue eyes. It was the way she behaved - confident, but hiding something. She moved like it, she talked like it. It drew me in.

She decided to show me around the town. Explaining things to me, where certain routes were, where certain streets came out. Alleys and shortcuts. She was so enthusiastic about it.

"Did you grow up here?" I asked.

"No, I've just done a lot of exploring. You know, when I go out to run. I have to learn everything. I need to map it in my head. Like, if there's some strange corner, I have to know what's around it." She looked at me. "I have to know. I just... I have to." She tugged my hand again to signal that we were changing direction. "Like down here. Come, come look."

So that went on for a few hours. She seemed one of those people who had to trespass. If somewhere looked off-limits, she wanted to go there. I knew my way around the typical areas - the town centre, the main roads - but she took me everywhere else. All the places I wouldn't think to go.

"Oh, but not here," she decided, stopping abruptly.

"Something wrong with it?" It just looked a generic council estate to me.

"That gang," she replied.

"Oh, right." Yeah, I really didn't want to get dragged into any of that shit.

She stopped buzzing around so much once we were back-tracking and heading for the town centre. I could already feel the temperature dropping. My feet and legs were feeling all the exercise. I pulled my phone out to check the time, and saw a message from Wesley. I must have missed the vibrations while walking.

"Everything good?" it asked. I thumbed a quick 'yes' in response.

We came out at the high street, facing the university's direction. I didn't want to head back yet. I was enjoying her company too much.

"Do you want to eat somewhere?"

She looked up at me, brows a little high. "Um. Where were you thinking?"

I understood what that apprehension was. "I'll pay." Restaurants could be a disgustingly expensive thing. Takeaways were bearable.

She didn't say anything else, so for what seemed the first time, I was the one tugging her hand and leading her. I quickly checked my jacket pocket, that my wallet was still there and I hadn't left it at home. That would've been awkward. Then I thought to send another message to Wes - "Staying out longer."

To be honest, eating something other than pasta was a nice change. I could've been cooking other things, but I was being lazy. It could nearly take an hour to cook something decent. I had taken regular, homemade meals for granted my entire life. Not to mention my current shared kitchen situation. And that cooking something significant could end up in me cooking for eight.

It was pretty uneventful at the restaurant. I just felt like this was our first, slightly weird date, and I wanted to do something right for it. Violet spent ages scouring over the menu, unable to decide on something. She pointed at things with strange names and frowned at me.

"What the fuck is that?"

"I think it's like this chicken thing with honey."

"Chicken with honey?"

"It's actually pretty good."

She looked so confused. And it was so cute. "And what the fuck is this?"

I had to apologise to the waitress twice. I was already on a drink refill by the time Violet decided on something.

It was all paid for with the punch of the PIN on my card.

The darkness outside brought the same chill of approaching winter. We walked in silence down the high street. I can't claim to have had any idea what was going on inside her head, but it seemed like a happy quiet from her.

I guess a contented silence like that was just nice.

When we came to the corner by the campus gates she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. There was a sway to it - pressing herself into me, then leaning back so I almost had to support all her weight on my arm. She pulled away with a giggle.

"Okay," she said. She cupped my face with both cold hands and stood on her toes to give me another peck. "Bye."

Then she just turned and was walking off. Disappearing, like the woods in the park. I stood for a moment in the light of the lamppost, before heading home.

When I got in, five out of seven flatmates were sitting on the sofas by the TV in typical fashion. Wesley swiveled around to me as I unzipped my jacket, cocking an eyebrow.

"All good?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Are you with her?"

"Yeah."

"What?" Claire said. "With who?"

Adrian chuckled none too quietly as I moved around the sofas, heading for my room. "David's got a girlfriend."

I found it amusing that he thought he could tease about that, as if it was a bad thing. I gave a bounce of my brows and disappeared into the hallway.

"Who is it?" Claire's voice continued.

"The girl on the motorbike yesterday."

The conversation muffled out as I shut my room's door. I felt... weird. Incredibly excited against this little voice in my head that told me to chill and take it easy, just see how things went. And another part of me that was bluntly wondering when I was going to have sex. Like, properly. I didn't see the thing in the park as proper.

Somewhere warm would be nice, for one.

I plugged my phone into my laptop to charge, and was getting into bed when it buzzed with a message from Violet.

"Hey sexy. See you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Ok. Nn!"

Well, okay. I grinned to myself as I clambered beneath the duvet. Yeah, I had a girlfriend. And she was fucking beautiful. I had a good wank that night, fresh memories of her straddling me by the tree. I didn't feel so bad about it now.

---

Violet

On Monday, Wesley came into our social science lecture with his ordinary, casual demeanour. But he looked across the room, specifically for me.

He never sat next to me. He usually sat in front with other classmates, and would sometimes lean back on his chair and swivel around to me while we'd chat some shit, but he always left me alone in my corner.

Today, he was invading it.

He dropped into the seat beside me. His expression told me how his tone would sound long before he opened his mouth.

"What are you playing at, exactly?"

I leant back in my chair and tongued at a bottom tooth. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb."

"Err?"

"David," he said, and continued when I didn't offer anything else. "What are you playing at, what were you thinking? Just preying on the 'rich boy'? Is it my fault? Did I put that idea in your head? If so, please tell me."

Did I have 'gold digger' written on my forehead or something? He pissed me off in an instant. Takes one to know one, huh?

"Stop starting on me," was my dull reply.

He looked just as annoyed as I was. "This isn't starting on you. I'm being fucking serious. Don't screw David around."

"I'm not-"

"This is my brother, my family you're fucking with. Do you understand?"

His voice was so stern, his stare hard, but he managed to pull off the entire thing without raising any kind of volume in his throat.

"I'm not trying to screw David around."

He looked away to pull his typical chair slouch, elbow on the desk and legs stretched out. So he was staying there all lecture long. These fucking Keanes. There was something wrong with them. I thought David was the uptight one and now Wesley was being just as bad.

I sighed. "Fuck you, Wes."

"Look," he started. "David's a really good guy, and I think you're a bit of a bitch."

"Wow."

"Yeah, looks like a disaster waiting to happen from the outside."

"Fuck you. Why you always thinking so fucking badly of me?"

"You don't exactly make an effort to be classy, do you? Fucking him in the park while we were gone for twenty minutes. Come on, Vi."

I snorted. "He didn't stop me."

He sighed, then chuckled a groan and massaged his eyebrow. "Fucking hell. Just... be nice to him."

"I will. I really like him, Wes."

"Yeah?"

"Huge crush since I first saw him."

"You better treat him good. He's besotted with you."

We fell into silence as the tutor started talking. I studied Wesley a few times, but all possible emotions had disappeared behind his blank concentration face. His reaction towards me getting close to David was... defensive, to say the least. It sunk in as I thought about it.

We weren't so different.

He'd known rock bottom. At some point in his childhood, he'd been there. He'd been through things which he didn't let the world know about. His stories gave those vibes, but he didn't want to remember, so he didn't talk about it.

Somehow, he'd climbed out of that world. Either through pure luck, or a little bit of opportunism from his end. Likely both.

He saw the same in me. And that was why he reacted. I was stepping into his territory. The friendly-faced Wesley was very loyal to these people who had taken him in, and could even get fierce about it. Honestly, it was pretty cute.

He shouldn't have worried, anyways. I was happy to share. Even if we seemed to spend most of our time bantering and insulting each other, I liked Wes. And I wasn't interested in getting on his bad side.

My gaze wandered around the room, the other students.

That guy who slicked his hair back with a bit of gel, and always seemed to wear a blazer and smart trousers to every class he attended. Rich.

That guy in the bright designer shirt, with an expensive designer jacket flopped over the back of his seat. A little stud in his ear that could very well have been a diamond. Rich.

That guy with the expensive-looking glasses, shiny black shoes. Sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, one foot rested up on the knee of the opposite leg, looking entirely confident in himself because he had no reason not to be. Rich.

In this environment, I was surrounded by rich guys. These people were top of the food chain, and they knew it. If I was going to be gold digging, I had a lot of choice.

So why David?

I couldn't even answer. Once again, on the inside of a situation, with no opportunity to look in from the outside, it went over my head.

I like to believe it was the sane part of my brain. A gut instinct that told me David was not only the one I wanted, but the one I needed. The little part of my mind that actually tried to look out for me, amongst all my impulsive and destructive traits.

---

David

So, apparently, it became very hard to concentrate in physics classes with Violet sitting next to me.

Flirting, giggling, pissing around.

We were supposed to be acting like adults, for fuck sake.

There were project assignments coming up and I had someone to work with, bounce ideas with. We were both already bitching about the subject and we were two months into our first year. Uni was going great.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 03



But it actually was. I don't know if I'd ever had such an urge to get out of bed every morning, just because there was a face I wanted to see that day. The last time I'd ever been so constantly excited was when I was 11 or 12, when Wesley joined the family.

*

"Do you want to go running with me?" Violet asked, snapping my eyes up across the table of the campus canteen.

I was reading a lengthy biology paper on my phone - too many walls of text for the small screen, littered with scientific jargon. I took a moment to come back to reality. "What?"

"Running," she repeated. "With me." I could swear she was suggestively sucking on her straw as she eyed me like that.

"Erm."

"No climbing buildings 'n shit. Just running."

I locked my phone to slip it back into my pocket. "I might not be fit enough to do what you want me to do."

"I think you're well fit." Her eyebrows bounced.

I chuckled. "Okay."

"I want you to come running with me."

"Okay."

"Tonight."

"Sure." I swiped her drink to steal a sip.

"Keep it," she said when I offered it back. "I got class." She leant across the table to give me one of her pecks, then disappeared into the crowds in her usual manner. I pulled my phone out to finish that paper while draining the smoothie.

"What the fuck," Wesley laughed as I emerged that evening in tracksuits and trainers. "You're seriously going to do parkour with Vi?"

"Apparently so," I replied as I locked my room's door.

"Mate, you're gonna split your skull and die."

"She promised me 'no climbing buildings 'n shit'."

He chuckled and slapped my shoulder. "Aight, see you later."

I zipped up my hoodie and was already feeling the cold as I descended the stairwell of our building. It was a vicious bite once outside. The idea was to warm up while moving.

Vi was waiting for me at the typical corner. I might've missed her had I not been looking for her. She had her hood up, hands in pockets, and could pass for any shifty, loitering youth.

She placed a hand on my stomach, looked me up and down.

"What do you want me to do, exactly?" I asked, breath clouding between us.

"Just follow my lead."

She started with a jog and I kept beside her. At the end of the street she picked up speed.

Fuck. I wore out faster than her. She was fitter than me. It flared up my competitive streak, but I wasn't going to win. I'd been a top sprinter at school, but not long distance. I couldn't maintain that sort of speed. She had a perfect rhythm with the repetitive sound of her feet hitting the pavement. She slowed when I fell behind, then stopped into a brisk walk to let me breathe.

"Okay?" she asked. Once my heavy pants had reduced somewhat, I gave a nod and it started all over again.

I had no idea where she led me in the dark. Probably her shortcuts, typical routes she took when she did this. Backs of buildings, alleyways. I was focusing on my breathing, the strain of my body asking me what the fuck I was doing when it'd been lazy for months. Cold air ripped at my throat and burnt my lungs. After the third stop and start even my legs ached.

We slowed and slowed until we weren't going above a jog. Then she slowed into a walk and didn't look to me for confirmation that I could speed up. We continued in silence. She was panting, too, but not as violently as I was.

It was extremely dark, high buildings either side of us and no street lights.

"Where are we?" I breathed.

"Edge of the industrial estate. I want to show you something." She tossed me a grin. "It's like a playground here."

The alleyway was blocked off by a chain link fence. There was a gate in it, but it was padlocked. Vi leapt up to grab the top, lifted herself, swung over, and dropped the other side with one fluid movement. I wasn't quite as graceful, sticking my shoe between the links for some extra lift as I clambered over, feeling a jar in my legs as I thudded the other side.

She walked with that same, brisk direction. Somewhere to be. There was finally a little light as we came out from the building shadows. I saw her hand gesture upwards.

"Up there."

"I thought we're not climbing buildings."

She chuckled. "You can manage this."

She led me to a fire escape staircase, steps clanging on the metal as she scaled it, echoed by mine as I followed. It spiraled up four levels. "Lots of abandoned warehouses around here," she said. "Companies going out of business and stuff." At the top, there was a sloped roof of ridged metal, reachable from the fire escape's railings. She climbed up and offered me a hand.

"Here," she continued, leading me up until the roof flattened. "Look. Look how fucking beautiful cities are at night."

It was quite a view, the sprawling sight of lights and building silhouettes. She pointed to the left.

"Over there, that darker patch. That's the park near the uni. Apparently when the bonfire's lit you can see it from like, everywhere."

I studied it. Fuck, we'd run that far? I'd done pretty well. It was cold, though. The height of our position was putting us in the open for the breeze. I was damp with sweat and a brief gust pierced my clothing.

"And over there," Vi said, taking a few steps to the right. "That big spire of the church? That's next to the train station."

I followed her, wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her into me, and kissed her. She giggled through it, returning it with an excited surge, standing on her toes.

"Pretty romantic," I breathed when she pulled back.

Her hands stroked down my chest and stomach to my hips, then back up again. "Well, I just... I find all these things, and I have nobody to show."

"Had to leave friends behind to come here, huh?"

"Yeah, sorta." She looked down, to the side. "We moved around quite a lot. I've never kept friends for very long."

"Why'd you move?"

"Parents' work."

"What do they do?"

"Like, sales."

"Can't that make quite a bit of money?"

"Only if sales go through."

She stepped away from me. Her mood had dropped, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong.

"Sorry."

She glanced back. "What? No... It's just... They spent a lot of money for me to come here, so I could do this, and not get drafted."

I can't claim that I understood exactly what it was like. I'd felt the drafting threat, but only because of my own stupid mistakes. Me going to university had never been a questioned thing. Of course I was going to do it. I was going to achieve my grades and my parents would cover whatever fees, and any debts would be worried about after graduation.

"It's like," she started, then paused. She was trying to open up about something but wasn't quite sure what to say. In a strange way, it reminded me of my father. I didn't push her. "I mean... maybe I'd go through the service and not even end up drafted anyways, and be one of the lucky ones. But I always knew if they got hold of me, I'd end up in."

"I guess you don't do yourself any favours being so physically fit."

She looked back at me with a grin. "I heard that one. Get yourself massively fat and they won't take you. Also heard it doesn't work. They just treat you worse and push you harder." She scuffed a foot at the rusty metal we stood on. "I think, there's just so many ways to get out of it, they seem to think that anyone who does end up in the service, deserves to be drafted."

It was a pretty serious conversation. What teenagers of our time hadn't spent ages bitching and moaning about the state of society? "The whole thing is a mess."

"Yeah, all the people rioting about it. The gangs."

"And the protesters."

"Yeah." She stepped back to me and wrapped her arms around my middle, head against my chest. "I'm doing this for my parents. I want to make them proud."

It made me smile. I kissed the top of her head and held her. We stood in silence for a while. She was warm, but it still wasn't quite enough. She felt me shudder and looked up at me. "Let's go."

There was a little bit of jogging on the way back, mostly to warm up. She didn't try pushing me again. The journey took much longer with our slower pace. More time to talk.

I wanted to ask things, but could sense her closing up if I asked too much. It was a normal reaction. I knew she'd tell me eventually, in her own time. That was how things went.

When we came to the street that would end at our typical corner, she tossed me a glance. "Race you."

No time to reply before she took off. An erupting sprint to the lamppost, my last chance to try and beat her at this. She was fucking fast. With her split second headstart, I barely overtook her.

And stopping on the frost that dusted the pavement was another matter. I almost skidded into a faceplant and she collided with me, bursting into laughter, knocking me down. My knee went right into her stomach. She keeled to the side, scrunched up, winded, gasping for air, and almost choked herself with more laughter when she tried to breathe.

"Shit," I chuckled. "Sorry. Sorry."

She smacked my shoulder with the flat of her palm, and sprawled on her back in the middle of the road, ribs heaving. "Prick," she managed.

I kissed her. Her fists clenched in my hoodie and she rolled me over, smothering me with panting and broken kisses while we tried to catch our breath. Her crotch rubbed against mine, she curved her spine and her breasts pressed into my chest. Shit. I wasn't going to catch my breath if she was doing this.

She sat up, straddling me, everything all to similar to our little moment at the park. My heart wasn't just racing from the running.

How do you hide a boner in loose tracksuits? You don't. That's how. She knew exactly what was going on, accentuated by a gyration of her hips. At least she didn't try to hold me down this time. The asphalt was freezing against my shoulders and arse.

"Come back with me," I said, sitting up.

She bit her lip, eyebrows twitching and dimples showing in her cheeks. "I know what you want."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No."

Her heat left me as she lifted herself, gripping my sleeve and pulling me up.

---

Violet

It was only a matter of time before one of us was taking the other 'home'. I hadn't tried coming onto David again all week. I thought Wesley would smack me over the head. It wasn't 'classy'.

So I had been waiting for David. Who had probably been waiting for me. But it didn't matter. I was quite content while he tugged my hand and led me down the road to wherever he lived. It was somewhere around 2am. Naked and hot in bed seemed like a great idea right then.

He used one key to get through the door of the building, and we scaled a stairwell up to the second level. Another key to open another door. His head turned sharply when we stepped inside, probably looking to see if anyone was awake. The lights were off.

He led me through a spacious lounge area with three sofas crowding a large TV, to a hallway with eight room doors, and what looked a bathroom at the far end. So it was just flats, provided by the university. The difference being that these were bigger, nicer, and more expensive, than the campus halls. All the richest students were probably in this building.

A couple of bedroom lights were on, showing through cracks of the doorframes. David stopped, used a third key to open his room's door, then let me through first, real gentleman like.

He locked it again behind us. The light came on and I scowled and squinted against it. For a moment we both seemed to have the same idea of taking our shoes off. Like we were completely relaxed, and there wasn't some crazy tension going on.

Then his hands were on me. Straight on the curves of my behind, fingers cold through the fabric. They slid around my hips to the front, up my stomach, over my chest. I shuddered head to toe and leant into him. He breathed against my ear, kissed my neck with the brush of facial hair and lips.

I was tingling all over. I needed him. I needed to feel him, all of him. Hear those sounds again like when I had him pinned against the tree.

I turned in his arms, pulled down the zipper of his hoodie, ripped it open, and pushed it as far off his shoulders as it could go without his co-operation. My voice wasn't much above a whisper. "Show me those muscles."

His laugh was like a harsh exhale of breath. I stepped back to get a better view while he freed himself from the sleeves. The anticipation was almost killing me. I knew he had to have a good body. It was the way clothes were tight in certain places. Subtle hints with even his forearms and neck.

Fuck, yes. The t-shirt lifted over his head to show the type of torso I'm sure plenty girls dream of. Defined stomach, rounded pecs, those big shoulders and heavy arms. Black hair on his chest, thinning out on his stomach before starting again below his navel. The tracksuits were just low enough on his hips to show that treasure trail. And they were tenting quite magnificently with his hard-on.

A chuckle rose from my throat. It wasn't that I was laughing at him, it was just erupting happiness, that he was gorgeous, and I was about to have this. I was straight back over to get a feel, but he jumped and flinched away.

"Your hands are fucking cold," he hissed.

"Mm-hm," I agreed, touching at one of his hard nipples. He flinched away again and tried to dodge around me, wheezing with that strained, airy laughter, struggling not to break into higher volume. I chased him to the bed. He tumbled to sit on the end and I collided with him, straddling his lap.

He kissed me, hungry and heavy, letting my cold hands stay on his warm chest. I got a nice feel of all that firm flesh, stroking up to his shoulders, feeling them flex beneath my touch. He was palming my butt again, pulling me closer against him. Then his fingers slid under my clothing, up my ribs, curiously feeling over my bra and the mounds beneath.

I pulled off my own hoodie and top together as one. His lips touched my neck and he reached around me to undo the clasp. The straps slipped over my shoulders and I tossed the bra to the growing pile on the floor.

It was as if he wanted to touch every bit of skin he could find, from my hips to my throat. My tits were exposed and he didn't even rush there. He eventually ran his hands over them before he cupped and squeezed. I guess I had enough to give him a handful. I'd never been generously bestowed and there wasn't exactly any spare fat on my body.

Not that he seemed to care. His lips, that scruffy beard, were all over me. Hands squeezed my waist, fingers almost digging in enough to hurt. He sucked on a nipple and I was swamped with all the pleasurable pulsing at the fork of my legs. Fabric of my underwear was sliding against me as I ground against him. He tugged, gently, with his teeth. I moaned.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed. I ran my fingers through his hair and pressed into him. He fell on his back, pulling me down.

"How do you want this?" I asked, laying my body across his, feeling all that heat and musculature.

"I don't know. I just want you."

As sexy as his hoarse whispers might've been, a part of me wished we didn't have to be so quiet. I'd have liked to hear that rumbling voice in his chest right then.

It was a strange feeling that I really... cared. I suppose I felt like I owed something to him. Like it was my duty to show him a good time. I wanted him to enjoy it. I wanted him to enjoy me. My past experiences had bordered on selfish, only caring about myself, about how good I could feel. Sitting on faces, riding them, using their bodies to satisfy my drive. I had only been there to take what I wanted, then leave.

It was different now. I... I didn't want to leave. I didn't want David to leave. I wanted to make him mine.

I ran my hands down that torso, and shifted myself to pull off his tracksuits. He was special. He was my key, to everything. His wellbeing mattered more than anything in the world.

His fingers hooked in my waistband to finish undressing me. We were naked, kissing, rolling and tangling limbs. He wasn't rushing, and I let him set the pace.

The brush of his hand ventured from my throat, over my breasts, down my stomach, to the wetness between my thighs. He explored with gentle strokes before pressing harder, rubbing the swollen nub of my clit. He didn't have to be an expert at it, I was horny enough for the slightest friction to push me over the edge. My legs and stomach tensed, the pattern of my breathing shattered, and I didn't even try to keep my moaning quiet.

I was lost in a moment of bliss. He made a sound, a soft grunt, like he was surprised, but loved what he was seeing.

He was rolling on top of me before the sensation even finished. I lifted my hips to guide him, head of his cock stroking through my fluids to find the spot. I wrapped my legs around him and took him in with one hard push against his body. He gasped and moaned, his hands gripped my sides. He filled me in a perfect way. Not too much, not too little.

He slid almost all the way out, then thrusted back in, and did it a few more times, feeling me, feeling how to move. The slow strokes against my insides felt incredible, but I needed more. There was power in that body, I wanted to feel it. All of it. All of him.

I bucked against his movements, arched my back. "C'mon, you lil' virgin. Show me what you got."

He chuckled, and leant down to kiss me. He moved harder, faster, until he was doing little more than holding my hips and pounding me. I held on for the ride. It was new for me also, but I don't think I'd ever smiled so much, enjoyed myself so much. It didn't have to be perfect, it didn't have to be anything more than what it was. My body was loving it, like every nerve ending was on fire.

His movements lost rhythm, his breathing heavy. I rolled him over, almost a tangled wrestle with the duvet. "Tired?"

He splayed against the pillows, ribs flinching with more laughter that he struggled to keep quiet. "You take me out running for miles, and want me to last all night?"

I straddled him, leant my weight on his chest. "You need practise."

"Yeah? You gonna show me?"

I slid my slit along the length of his shaft, felt it twitch beneath me. "I'm surprised you've lasted this long."

He breathed out a moan. "Ride me."

"You like that? Like at the park?"

I pushed down on him when he tried to reply, enjoying the muffled grunt. His hands slid up to my tits, then back down to my thighs, holding me as I started to move. I rode him how I knew, squeezing around him in a steady rhythm. His eyes were closed, then open, looking at my body, at my face. The light was catching every green shade in his irises. Yes, his horny eyes were amazing in reality.

He bucked up to meet me every time I came down. His eyes closed again, his body went rigid. His breathing grew faster, louder, before it hit him in waves. It was almost an airy growl that came from his throat, and my heart raced. I could feel his own thudding hard beneath my hands, as if it would burst from his chest cavity.

His rigid muscles relaxed, and he breathed out a contented sound.

His eyes didn't open right away. His hand went to his brow, brushing back some sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. Then he looked up at me, still sitting on his hips, on his dick, and smiled. It spread into a grin. He sat up to kiss me and I stroked his tongue with mine, raked my fingers through his hair. I liked his taste, I liked his smell, I liked his feel.

He laid back against the pillows. In that moment of afterglow I didn't really want to move, didn't really want the sensation to end, but he was softening inside of me. I pulled up, he slid out, fluids dripped onto his stomach.

"Fuck sake," he said.

"S'gonna happen every time," I replied, purposely moving up a little to spread even more mess. "Apparently you come buckets. Get used to it."




Hornet's Nest Ch. 03



He almost failed at stifling more chuckling. I couldn't be bothered with cleaning up, but he searched for his discarded boxers, made a half-hearted attempt, then collapsed beside me.

"The light," he grunted. I grunted back. He moved a little, throwing off the duvet, but I stopped him.

"I got this." I threw one of his scrunched socks, which missed, but the second scored a nice hit on the lightswitch. Darkness.

He nearly guffawed, silhouette of his arm reaching up as his hand must have gone to his forehead. "Holy shit. Amazing." He reached around me and rolled into me. His nose pressed into my cheek and I pulled up the duvet again. There was a little bit of fidgeting, snuggling, getting comfortable. It had been quite an active night. Sleep was good. Sleep was very good.

His body felt good.

This was good.

*

A fist hammered against the door. Repetitive loud knocks. "Dave. Dave."

A low growl vibrated in the throat of the body next to me.

"Dave," Wesley's voice continued, hitting the door again.

David's answer startled me to consciousness, right by my ear. "What?!"

"Checkin' you even came home last night. Why's door locked?"

"Vi's here."

"Oh. Well done, mate."

David sighed, I managed a snicker. "Fuck off, Wes."

Wesley's laughter faded down the hallway and David rolled over beside me, burying his face into the pillow. "He is, like, my morning rooster," he grumbled. "Since forever."

I tried to judge what time it was by the light coming through the window blind. It was a grey day. "Chirpy morning person?"

"Yes. Yes, that is the perfect description."

He was hogging all the bed space. I retreated from the edge and pressed into him with the intent of making him move, but he practically enveloped me instead. I don't know if it was a bear hug or spooning. He breathed against the back of my head while one of his hands stroked up and down my front. It stopped to feel a tit, gently tweaking the nipple between his fingers.

"You have an amazing body," he mumbled.

I reached a hand back to pat his arse. "I quite like yours." I was turning over to kiss him when there was hammering at the door again.

"For fuck sake, Wes!"

"Mate, it's like twelve! Get the fuck out of bed!"

"Jesus fucking Christ." The mattress bounced with the surge David took to get out from the duvet, tear open a drawer, and hop towards the door while pulling the boxers on. He opened it no wider than his shoulders. "The fuck do you want?"

"Do you want bacon?"

He chuckled. "Wes."

"Yeah, you think I'm being a dick, and I'm just being considerate."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. Make me a toastie."

"No, I'm cooking the bacon, you make your own damn toastie."

"Is bathroom free?"

"Yeah."

There was another passing voice down the hallway. "Someone got laid last night."

"Mate," Wesley said.

David shut the door and turned back to me. "You gonna shower with me?"

I grunted. Honestly, I'd have liked to stay in bed for another three hours. I pulled the duvet higher up but he laughed, yanked it off, and scooped me up, all while I swore and struggled. I collected some clothes in my drowsy state and let him lead me down to the bathroom.

Apparently we didn't get along in the shower. Too much fighting over the spray and pushing and shoving where David slipped over, banging his head and roaring with laughter. That, and how cold it was, got me awake nice and fast.

"You're too big," I said once he had me pinned between the tiles and his chest. There wasn't room for his shoulders and my head. Apparently he didn't care as he held me there and kissed me.

I convinced him to leave so I could finish up by myself. I've never particularly liked showers - they're something I do fast, and in winter they're the worst. I've never been fond of water. I don't like it getting in my eyes, in my ears, up my nose. And if I get shampoo in my eyes I will have a very, very bad day.

Speaking of which, I stole a shampoo bottle from a female roommate to do something with my hair. One of those scented, fruity ones. Bad idea. Now my theft was an obvious smell. They wouldn't miss one squeeze, would they?

The towel was too small, the bathroom was too cold. Did they not have heating? The fucking window was open. Who opens the window during winter?

So many goosebumps. I was leaving the bathroom in bra and towel, clothes over my arm, when I bumped into that blonde girl in the hallway. Melissa. I remembered her. She startled, took one glance over me, then embarrassment hit her expression. "Sorry," she said, ducking past me to her room. Did she smell her shampoo on me? I hoped not, there was that bacon smell permeating the entire flat that should have disguised me.

David wasn't dressed yet. He was sitting at his desk in his boxers, posed like some Greek statue as he read something on his laptop.

"Oh, God," I said. "Is that more science?" I saw a cluster of numbers in a familiar equation and it was all I needed. "Put it away, for fuck sake."

"I actually hate this stuff," he replied.

"So do I. Why are we taking it?"

He chuckled and looked around at me. His eyes softened with an expression I almost couldn't understand. Adoration, affection. If he stared at me like that I'd feel like a goddess.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You wanting to fit in a quickie before bacon?"

"What? No." He reached out to brush his fingers over my stomach, then pulled away the towel and stroked his hands down my hips, tugging me closer.

"Do you want me shaved?" I asked. "Or is trimmed like this good?"

"What?" His eyes moved up from the fork of my legs. "No, this is... this is fine." He looked so confused by the question, and his confusion confused me. Honestly, a lot about him could confuse me. He wanted to see me naked right then, but wasn't interested in having sex? I felt a sudden need to get dressed.

"Can I borrow some of your boxers?"

His brow furrowed even more. "As if they'll fit you."

"My pants are a mess." I sifted through that same drawer I'd seen him go through, searching for whatever underwear had the tightest waistband. Then I went through another drawer. T-shirts. I put one of them on, too.

"Oh my God," he chuckled. "Vi."

"What?"

He chased me away from his clothes to find something for himself, and I finished dressing with my own tracksuits. There were interesting things about his room that I wanted to explore. He made just enough effort to be tidy, but whatever scruff there was caught my interest. His wallet was in the open on the desk. I could start with that.

"Oh, nice," I said, pulling out his driver's license. "Where's your car?"

"Don't have one."

"Why?"

"It was part of the deal with my parents."

"What?"

"It was either a car, or they cover rent."

"So you chose a slightly bigger flat over a car?"

He grinned and shrugged. "I'm never gonna have a loan to worry about when I graduate."

I looked back down at the license. The little square picture was surprisingly photogenic. "Yeah. Lucky for some." Everything else in the wallet was boring by comparison. He seemed to be purely cards. No cash. "Wes has a license too?"

"He can drive, he has to do his exams." David took the wallet out of my hands, dumped it back on the desk, and dragged me out by my wrist.

I didn't know the names of all his flatmates yet, but I knew Adrian, who clapped and hooted when I appeared beside David in the lounge area. David said everything he needed to with a simple look and didn't even open his mouth. He cared more about the kitchen.

The TV was on. I tucked damp hair behind my ear and watched the moving colours, but wasn't really paying attention. Then something snapped David's eyes to it, like some name mentioned was someone he knew. He scowled at it for a few seconds, before looking to Wesley.

"What is it this time?"

Wesley gave a flippant nod of his head in the TV's direction. "Darren's giving money away again."

"Wow, what a prick."

"I know, right?"

They were being sarcastic and I didn't understand. I bothered to listen to the TV and focus on the images. It was some sort of midday news, with a complicated economics discussion.

"Claire," Adrian said. "Can we change channel?"

"No," she replied.

"This is boring."

"It helps with my studies. I'm watching this."

A third guy was watching almost as intently as Claire was. David put a plate with a toastie into my hands and we joined them on the sofas. I tried to follow what the news story was about, but it was difficult. Maybe not coming in halfway through would've helped.

It didn't take long until this other guy, Myles, was arguing with Claire about it. They took the different sides of what they were watching. Both David and Wesley watched the whole thing unfold like it was some massive inside joke I couldn't hope to understand.

"It's this fucking Sörensen guy," Myles said. "He's got his fingers in about every pie now."

"Are you being fucking serious?" Claire retorted. "You honestly think him donating to charity is a bad thing?"

"It's not the act, it's the way everybody goes about it. It's just a media stunt."

"No, it's not. Don't you think he would accept interviews if it was?"

"Maybe getting blood thrown over him was enough to scare him off ever going on TV again."

That rang a weird bell.

Claire scowled at Myles like she wanted to rip his throat out. "I can't believe you actually think like this. You're the reason there's people starving in this country."

"Fuck off. As if you fucking care. Shit like this guy is doing doesn't fix anything, it just makes it worse. Fuck sake, he's a fag too."

"No, he's not. That was a media stunt, trying to make him look bad in the public eye."

"No," David interrupted, like some referee. "He is gay."

"No he's not," Claire replied.

"Trust me. He's very gay."

She glared at David, as if he was siding with Myles against her. "And you know this?"

"Yep."

"You're just as bad," she said, with an added scoff. "Believe everything you see on TV."

Wesley was shaking his head. He and David exchanged some quick looks.

"Claire. He's our uncle."

There was a silence. Both Myles and Claire scowled at David, but he'd had a little too much blunt conviction in his tone to have been joking.

"You're having a laugh," Myles declared.

"Nope."

He looked back at the TV, uncomfortable. Wesley picked up on it - "Yeah, oops, huh?"

"Sorry, man," Myles mumbled.

Claire still seemed quite shocked by this revelation, and David chuckled at her face.

"I'm sure he appreciates you sticking up for him, but he's quite fine on his own."

I felt like something had just, once again, gone over my head. David and Wesley had some sort of rich and famous uncle? I wasn't even the slightest bit surprised, but these other rich kids were. I'd be asking questions to know more, but not right then. I'd feel an idiot, the only one who didn't know what this conversation was actually about.

In my defence, Adrian didn't seem to have any idea, or care either, staring down at his phone during the whole thing.

I sat nice and quiet, eating my toastie, observing everything in my usual manner.

The TV moved on to other things, and eventually so did the conversation. Claire announced that she'd gotten herself a job at a restaurant, and Adrian's head snapped up.

"That's only because you've got such massive tits," he said. "Fuck sake. Bet all you had to do was unbutton your shirt at the interview, huh?"

"You're such a dick, Adrian."

"But it's true! The fuck are us guys supposed to do to get a job?"

"Not my problem." She cupped her tits and gave them a bounce. "If these can get me a job with super good, flexible hours, then I'm not complaining."

At some point David looked down at me, as if concerned that I was so quiet, but I gave him a simple smile and snuggled against his side. I was perfectly content that nobody spoke to me. Claire seemed oblivious to my presence. Myles only gave me a couple of cautious looks, always averting his gaze if I tried to make eye contact. Sometimes I really did wonder if I had something printed on my forehead to say that I was different. That I was not 'People Like Us'.

When Claire and Myles kicked off again David decided that was the time to go, tugging my hand and leading me back to his room. "Do you have any roommates as bad as that?" he asked once the door was shut.

"Not really. I don't know. I'm not there much, and everybody leaves me alone anyways."

"Yeah?"

"Other than when they want me to get them drugs."

He tossed me a grin, flicking at the touchpad of his laptop. I started wandering and exploring the room without really thinking about it, sifting through drawers, looking around his desk. He watched me in silence.

"Do you have OCD or something?"

I frowned at him. "No."

"Then you're nosey."

"Yeah." He had a really nice, expensive fountain pen, and I turned it in my fingers. "Do you actually write with this? Can you do that weird writing? What's it called?"

"Calligraphy?" He took the pen off me and put it back where it belonged, then looked at me, and chuckled. "You're cute, Vi."

"I just want to know things."

"I know." He tugged me towards his bed, sitting and pulling me onto his lap.

"What's the big deal with this Sörensen guy?" I asked.

"Nothing. Nothing is the big deal. He was targeted by protesters a while back and now the media never leaves him alone."

He sounded touchy about it. I almost decided not to ask further questions. "He's your uncle?"

There was a pause of silence where David blinked at the floor. "He's not actually blood related. He's just been my mum's friend since forever."

He didn't want to talk about it, that much was obvious. I thought I was beginning to understand - David was a rich kid trying to pretend he wasn't rich. It seemed a strange thing, yet at the same time, made sense. I mean, being rich drew attention. Drew harassment. Got buckets of blood thrown over you.

*

For a couple of weeks things became strangely routine. University work had a way of monopolising my time. I cared about my grades, so I put the effort in. Wesley sat with me more and more during social science, and we debated endlessly on topics. The things covered, that I was learning, were as intensely interesting as I'd hoped.

Physics, on the other hand... I was glad I had David with me through it. I was struggling. There was too much maths that switched my brain off. As soon as something was fun, our professor managed to make it boring again. David was hardly enjoying it either, but he remembered key details better than I did.

I was ranting one time about how ridiculous I thought something was, but it only made him laugh. "Yeah, question everything. That's why you'd make a good scientist, Vi."

It was a strange compliment. Like he'd been taking the piss, but genuine at the same time.

I didn't know. I didn't see myself doing anything in the field of physics once I graduated. I had no idea what I saw myself doing, but I tried not to think thoughts like that. One thing at a time.

I shouldn't have been complaining, anyways. David had an even bigger workload than me, and was already talking about dropping chemistry. He could look so exhausted sometimes.

Or maybe that was because I kept taking him running, and kept him up half the night with sex.

He seemed an unusual mix of brains and brawn. Of course I kept taking him running. His stamina improved fast, and I was impatient to move on to the more intense things. I wanted him to do parkour with me, because it was my thing, and I wanted to share it. I was sure he could do it.

And the sex, well. He was very interested in exploring my body by himself, and didn't need too much coaching with that.

Maybe it was just because he was so nice to look at, that I wanted to keep him around all the time. But it was more than that. I really did like him. I hadn't known someone who made me feel so comfortable after knowing them for what was, realistically, such a short amount of time.

What was it? He was... nice. Wow, was that it? All I could come up with?

Weren't nice guys supposed to be losers?

Honestly, in a very short time I was becoming so used to having company around, that when David told me he and Wesley were going home for a few days for Halloween, I suddenly didn't know what to do with myself.

I went down to the train station with them, waiting in the cold, and David gave me an adorable goodbye kiss.

"Just a few days," he promised. "We got a lil' sister who will kill us otherwise."

"Mm-hm," I agreed, patting his chest. He gave me another peck before getting on the train.

I went running alone that night, and still had urges to check over my shoulder, even though I knew full well that he wasn't there. My bed seemed so spacious. Where was his body stealing the covers, but giving me his warmth to make up for it?

Damn. When did I get so attached?

It was almost uncanny how, the next day, my mother called. As if she just sensed my sudden loneliness across the distance.

"How's it going?" her familiar voice asked. At first I was suspicious that there might be more reason to her call than just checking up on me, but she didn't give any clues.

"Pretty good," I replied, before giving a long-winded explanation of what university was like for me. She laughed through it.

"I guess if they keep you busy, you're being good."

"I'm always good, Mum."

"Right. So are you dressing slutty tomorrow and getting pissed out of your mind?"

"No, fuck that. I'm gonna be a good girl, and sit at home writing more on my project all night."

"Right," she drawled.

"Fuck you," I chuckled. "I don't do that anymore."

"You never should've been doing it in the first place. Are you telling me, that as soon as you reach legal drinking age, you've gone sober?"

"Shut up, Mum. I have a boyfriend, anyways. And he doesn't drink."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm."

"Want to tell me about him?"

"Well, he's in my physics class. He's like, six foot. Green eyes, black hair."

"Got a picture?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Fuck sake, Mum. Fine, I'll get him to pose for a picture, just for you. Shall I make sure he's topless too, so you can see his six-pack?"

"Sounds like you're doing well for yourself."

I switched the phone to my other ear. "Mm-hm. And one more thing. He's rich."

"Well done, child. How rich? Is he an upper-class ponce?"

"No, no he's nothing like that. I mean some people here, sure, but not him. He has, like, that rugged charm, y'know?"

"Oh, like your father?"

"No, Mum. Don't do that. That's weird."

She laughed into my ear. "You know I tease. I'm proud of you, Vi."

I probably had a grin far too big for my face. I switched the phone to my other ear again. I always had to fidget during faceless conversations. "How're things for you two, anyways?"

"We're fine."

"Yeah, seriously?"

"Yes," she said, with that tone.

"Where are you now?" I asked.

"At the moment, Basingstoke."

"And where will you be around Christmas?"

"Probably still Basingstoke. I'll be in contact again if we move. And Romain can always get you to us if need be."

"Yeah... I know he's just here 'cause he feels like he has to watch me."

"He can stay in any fucking town he wants, if it's on network, Vi."

"I know, but this is obviously on purpose."

"He cares about you."

"We're over."

"Obviously."

There was an awkward pause.

"Think you're gonna last with this new boy?" Mum asked.

"I don't know. I don't think like that."

"Treat him right and I don't see why you'll have any problems."

The phonecall ended shortly after, on a lower note. I guess I stopped it before there was any chance of a lecture from my mother. I didn't need to hear her, once again, talk about how socially inept I was, and how she just didn't understand why I couldn't learn from mistakes.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 04



---

David

I don't know why, when at home for those few days, Violet was never mentioned. Maybe I was nervous about what people would think of her, and knew that I'd be teased. Wesley never said anything either, but then, we'd always been like that. We didn't 'snitch' on each other. It wasn't his to tell.

It was uneventful as far as my family goes. Lots of talking around the dinner table, and on the actual Halloween night Wes and I 'babysitted' a group of kids, aged 6 to 11, from Hanna's school - her friends, with some younger siblings. Getting pulled around on the streets, in the cold, by over-excited kids in costumes, is a lot more exciting than getting drunk. One of them wanted to play chicken with every car that went past. Fuck me.

Wesley got bundled into the floor by the rabid pack when he tried to take their sweets away. It was a miracle Hanna didn't break anything. She managed everything well, but on the way back I sat her on my shoulders to give her legs a rest. They ran around the house in a hyper mess while parents and guardians slowly arrived to pick them up and take them home.

Dad sat on the sofa, clutching his brow like he had a splitting headache when he'd only had to deal with them for an hour at best. Wesley collapsed beside him with a heartfelt grunt. Dad studied him, then poked him in the neck.

"Did one of the vampires get you?"

"What?"

He poked him again. Wesley felt at the patch of skin, alarmed. "Is it marked?"

"Yes."

"Oh my fucking God."

Dad roared with laughter while Wes sprung to his feet to find a mirror.

"Stop laughing! Fucking hell! If I get a hickey from a ten-year-old, does that make me a paedophile?"

Dad coughed and spluttered and I nearly pissed myself, struggling to breathe. Mum's face disappeared behind her hands with a muffled, "Goodness me."

Hanna was oblivious to it, sitting in front of the TV with her mountain of sweets, looking very happy with how the night turned out.

Maybe I was also a bit worried of what the hell Violet would think of my family. But she'd already met Wes. What was worse than Wes? Oh, right. Tyler.

*

"Thirty minutes," I said on the phone to Violet. "You better be at the station when we arrive."

"You take a morning train and expect me to be there?"

"Don't you think it'd be healthier to run in the mornings, rather than middle of the night?"

She scoffed into my ear and I grinned, moving my leg from the aisle as the same kid ran back down between the seats towards his mother again. There hadn't been room for my bag anywhere else, so it was currently stealing my leg space. "I needed to be back in time for physics this afternoon."

"God forbid you miss one labs session." She had that grumbly tone and from the shifting sounds of sheets, I knew she was still in bed. "If you make me come down there we're probably both gonna be late."

"Yeah, and?"

"God."

"You don't wanna see me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Move your arse."

"My bed is warm, and it's cold outside."

"Yeah, and you know when it's colder? The middle of the fucking night when you go running."

She sighed. "Jesus. This demanding boyfriend. Fine. I'll be there."

"Great."

"Wanker." She made a mocking smooching sound and hung up on me.

I glanced at Wesley, leant against the window with his eyes shut and earphones in. If I dozed off as well we'd probably miss our stop. Not that I understood how Wesley slept with the amount of noise coming the earphones. I shook him awake five minutes from the station and he came to with the same speed as always. Master of power naps. I don't think he even knew what groggy was.

We stepped off onto the platform and I searched for Violet. I spotted her, leaning against the wall in a corner, hands in pockets of her biker jacket, shoulders bunched up to hide half her face beneath the coils of her scarf. The rush I felt to see her was incredible. An instant racing heart, like she was the most exciting person in the world.

We were walking towards each other, but I dropped my bag and ducked as if to tackle, scooping her up and throwing her over my shoulder. She screeched and kicked her legs, elbow smacking me in the side of the head. The way she writhed, I couldn't even keep hold of her if I tried.

She dropped back to the floor and gripped the collar of my jacket. "All right, handsome." She yanked me down and kissed me before I could say anything. I forced my tongue between her lips, feeling the vibration of her giggle as she pressed into me.

Wesley scooped up my bag and knocked into us, pushing us towards the escalator. "Fuckin' lover birds." He kept one arm around my neck, one around Vi's, keeping us apart. "Come on, do it in the warm."

"How was Halloween?" Violet asked.

"He got a love bite from a ten-year-old," I replied.

That made Wesley release us to pull up the collar of his jacket. "Fucking hell."

"It's going down already, you should've seen it."

She tried to get a glimpse and he shoved her away, roughly enough that I was probably supposed to get on his arse about it - you know, 'don't touch my girlfriend'. Vi didn't seem to care, she staggered with a grin. He gave her a daring glare and smirk to try again. She dodged around him and locked her fingers with mine.

We didn't make the effort to walk fast enough to be at our physics class on time. Not that it mattered, not like we were getting a detention. I guess so many years of school had just been heavily ingrained into my mind. We quietly moved around the room to our seats, listening in to pick up on what we had missed.

Three hours later, Violet's fingertips brushed up my thigh. "Mine or yours?"

"Mine."

"Okay."

We walked laughingly fast across campus that time. Through the streets, into my building, up the stairwell, through an empty lounge to my room. Whoever else was home was behind the closed doors of their rooms, and I didn't even care. In a couple of weeks I'd gone from being somewhat shy to not giving a damn who heard me having sex. As if I was proud of it, or something.

I still locked the door, though. Then Vi shoved me up against it, one hand groping and squeezing my crotch while the other unzipped my jacket. Anticipation on the way to my room had already started me off, and her touch was all I needed, coaxing me hard.

She did crazy things to me, to my mind and my body, and I let it happen. I'd missed her so much in three short days it was almost unreal. Like the first time I'd thrown a real punch had stirred up some desire to keep fighting, losing my virginty had awoken some libido I didn't even realise I had. Of course I'd wanted to have sex. Who doesn't? But now I just wanted more. And more. I was insatiable.

Luckily for me, Violet had a drive to match. Maybe it was her fault. She was doing it to me.

Once we'd struggled out of layers of winter clothes, she pulled me down onto the bed, hands locked around the back of my neck. I pinned her body beneath me, mouth on hers while she writhed and squirmed, her fingers raking through my hair, hard nipples raking my chest. Her legs wrapped around my hips and held me there, hard length against her mound, grinding with little gyrations. I could hear it in the desperation of her breathing, hands that kept gripping and squeezing different places like they couldn't decide where they wanted to go. She wasn't interested in any foreplay, she just wanted a quick, hard fuck.

I released her and she shifted further up the bed, teasing me with the spread of her legs and the dimpled smirk stretching her lips. I paused to admire her, and she giggled.

"Come on, you're like a little boy when you do that."

"What?"

"'Ooh, pussy'."

I grinned. There were other things I wanted to do, but if she was going to rush me, fine. I leant over her, she bit my lip and arched her spine so our bodies touched. She was still the one in control, even if she made me do the work. I think she liked it that way. I think I liked it, too.

Her hand gently stroked my cock. I would've enjoyed her touch for a little longer but she was guiding it to her entrance. I pushed into her, into the silky heat. She stretched and squeezed around me, all the intoxicating sensations that were becoming familiar. She moaned in approval, interrupted by a sharp inhale and chuckle when I thrusted out and in.

"Missed me?" she asked in that husky voice.

"Fuck yes." I squeezed the curves of her arse, her thighs around my hips. I was already learning all the best ways to get the reactions out of her that I wanted. Her arms laid on the pillow, deceptively submissive, eyebrow raising at me, bottom lip catching between her teeth.

She bucked against me, a little bounce in her breasts as I went harder. Her fists curled in the sheets to steady herself, and her expression changed. Her movements lost their rhythm and I gripped her hips to keep pulling her against me. She moaned over and over, as if my movements were what forced the air out of her lungs.

My hand stroked across her stomach, down to her clit, slick with her fluids. I pressed and rubbed with my thumb. She held my gaze, but her eyes were lost in whatever it felt like as she built up to her climax. Her stomach tensed. Her head tilted back. I kept stroking with a steady rhythm of my cock and thumb. She let out a string of shuddering breaths before erupting with a cry of pleasure, hands looking like they'd rip the sheets, body trembling, muscle spasms squeezing around me in throbbing pulses. Her body kept reacting, jerking with softer moans.

I didn't last long after that. Her voice did things to me. Watching her come did things to me. I folded over, weight on my elbows, breathing against her neck, shuddering, trying to push deeper with every throb. Her body welcomed me, but had already taken me to the root.

She went limp and relaxed beneath me. I collapsed on top of her and she let out a wheezing grunt.

"David," she strained.

"Yes."

"I'd like to breathe."

I chuckled against her ear and lifted myself, sliding out. She looked at me with a drowsy contentment, still unmoving, and I touched my lips to hers. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss after the mad rush to bed.

"That was quick," she said.

"But good?"

"Fuck yes."

"You want a drink or something?"

"Yes please."

I cleaned up a bit and got dressed, and when I came back in she had rolled onto her side, slightly curled up, dozed off. I pushed the door shut with my shoulder, a smile stuck on my face and a tight feeling in my chest. I left the glass of Coke by the bedside and let her sleep, retrieving my laptop and setting it up on my desk. I was sure some of my noises and clunking around must have disturbed her, but she never moved.

A shared video of someone's pet cat doing something stupid could only be from my mum. It always made me laugh, no matter how much of a simpleton it made me feel, but I kept it to a quiet snicker. After more pointless browsing, I looked over my shoulder at Vi again.

She was so fucking beautiful. I just wanted to stare at her.

Her lips were slightly parted, subtle movements of her breathing in her ribs. The way she laid, her arms squished her little breasts into an adorable cleavage. The flow of her figure was almost artistic. Up over her shoulder, down the dip in her waist, curving back up over her hips and thigh. Everything was toned. Her legs, her arms, her stomach. It gave her her shape. It was feminine, but not dainty, as I'd describe my mother.

That strangely had me wondering what Violet's mother looked like - my mind was drawn back to a conversation from Wesley and I's circle of mates. Wes had gotten himself dumped the second time that year, and Brian was trying to cheer him up by saying, "I'm pretty sure you dodged a bullet. You shouldn't worry about it."

"What?" Wes had replied.

"Haven't you seen her mum?"

"Mate. What?"

There were stupid snickers from the others, but Brian continued on as if he had the best piece of golden advice to ever grace our ears. "Don't you get it? Before you seriously start datin' a bird, you should check out her mum. Her mum is, like, the perfect proof of what she's gonna look like when she gets old."

"Oh my God," Wes had chuckled.

"So does her mum look good after hittin' forty? Yes? Great, go for it. If not, eh. Better not."

"Jesus, man."

Looking at Violet now, it was hard to ever imagine her getting old. She looked so young, so prime.

I wondered if I was ever going to see anyone from that circle of mates again. We had all gone our own ways, different universities, different walks of life. Brian had willingly signed up to the service. He actually wanted to be drafted. We'd always teased him for being thick, and I wondered if he'd gone and taken it to heart. The damage of banter.

I perched beside Violet on the bed, brushing my fingers up her thigh, stroking my palm into the curve of her waist. A freckled shoulder fidgeted, I leant down to kiss a freckled cheek. Her eyes opened for a brief moment and she rolled onto her back with a deep exhale.

In a moment like that, which was just relaxed and gentle, I wished my dick could give it a rest. Yes, she's beautiful. But you just had sex thirty minutes ago. For fuck sake.

There were sounds around the flat from other roommates. I pulled up the duvet from beneath her. She grumbled something and rolled over again, her back to me. I clambered in behind her and pulled her against my chest.

I don't know how long I dozed off, but it was long enough to have overdone a short nap by the groggy feeling that hit me when Wesley's voice woke me up.

"Vi, Dave." The door wasn't locked so he just came in after a half-hearted knock. Good thing I'd decided to use the duvet. "You two are the worst."

"Recharging for running tonight," I replied, pushing up on an elbow.

He chuckled. "Dave, I swear, will you cook something for once? I just had a five hour lecture. I'm fucking done."

"Yeah, sure." The door sounded shut and I gave Vi's shoulder a shake. "Guess what's for dinner?"

"What?" she mumbled.

"Pasta."

"Yay."

There was lots of chatter around the lounge and kitchen from flatmates, talking about the Halloween party Wes and I had missed, but I didn't pay much attention to it. When I went back to my room with Vi's plate, she was dressed in knickers and one of my t-shirts, sitting cross-legged on my chair, clutching her glass of flat Coke. And using my laptop. She looked around at me when I entered with the biggest grin, and pointed at the cat video on the screen.

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

She flicked at the touchpad as I set her plate down, tabbing off onto another page. Of course, she'd had to look at who sent the video. "You look so much like your mum." She studied me for a moment. "Well actually different in so many ways, but I can tell. It's in the face."

I grinned. "Yeah. That's what people say." I leant over her just enough to push into her personal space. "So you like looking through my stuff?"

"I didn't look at anything private. Look, you got three emails here. I didn't click on any. I'mma good girl."

"Uh-huh."

"You can trust me."

One email was from the landlord. Please, nothing bad. I moved her from the chair to check that.

Adrian was behind on rent. Fuck sake.

*

The bonfire in the park was seeing use once again, for Guy Fawkes Night. There was a huge fireworks display set up, and Violet was taking me to watch it.

"No paying for tickets," she said. "I got a place we can watch. Better than standing down there in the cold."

"Yeah?"

"I came scouting yesterday, I found somewhere good."

It was the way she said that - 'scouting'. It made me smile. It seemed to sum her up, the way she behaved, how she was so alert in public, always looking around, paying more attention to everything but me. At least it could feel that way.

She led me through the park to the wooded area. It wasn't too cold, there was a relatively clear sky, and most importantly, it wasn't raining. A very nice night for fireworks.

"Is this another of your surprise fucks?" I asked as she tugged me through the trees.

"No, you dickhead."

"Hey."

"This tree here, this one. It's perfect."

I looked up at what I could see in the dark. Some trees invite you to climb them, like their branches are perfectly laid out like a ladder. This was not one of them. The lowest branch was at least nine foot off the floor.

"You climbed this alone," I flatly remarked.

"Yes."

"How."

"Trying like five times, kicking off the trunk. Come on, give me a boost, and I'll help you up."

"Vi."

"Gimme boost." She grabbed my shoulders, already lifting a foot off the floor. I obliged and she heaved herself onto the branch. I thought she'd fall while trying to help my weight up there, but we managed it. The rest of the climb was easier, I only had a close encounter with some loose bark beneath my shoe.

A couple of nearby branches created the best thing to a seat we'd get. I got myself comfortable with my back against the trunk and Vi pressed up against me. She gave me a massive grin, eyes wide with a childish excitement.

"It's good, yeah?"

She just melted my heart. Still catching me unawares with random adorable things.

"Yeah, it's good."

She pulled out a packet of sweets and sat chewing away while we waited for the show to start. "My mum wants a picture of you," she said through a mouthful.

"What? Right now?"

"No, later, maybe. She wants to see what you look like."

"You told her about me?"

"Yeah." She offered me a sweet. "I mentioned you last time she called me, at Halloween."

I had another pang of guilt that I hadn't mentioned Violet to my own family yet. I still wasn't sure why. She didn't keep talking, or ask me anything about it, staring out at our view instead.

"Do you have any pictures of your parents?" I asked.

"Oh, no. I don't keep pics of them on my phone. They don't like it."

"Fair. Do you want to see a picture of my sis?"

"Sure."

I brought up the recent picture of Hanna in her Halloween costume, and from the light of the screen on her face, saw Violet's eyes soften with a smile. Then they flicked to meet my gaze.

"Cute."

Violet never spoke about siblings. I'd figured a while ago that she was an only child. She didn't really speak about her parents much, either. Not that I expected family to be a huge topic of conversation for an 18-year-old out on their own at university, but Vi had this strange way of not actually talking about much, even if I heard a lot of her voice. She preferred to talk about the now. Immediate things surrounding us. I wasn't sure how much I was supposed to know about someone after little over a month, but sometimes, I felt I still didn't know a lot.

As it turned out, we did have a fantastic view of the fireworks display. Chill crept in with sitting still for so long, and the giant bonfire looked very inviting, but I focused on the warmth of Vi's legs against mine, resting my head against hers.

She seemed to have a thing for heights, and views of big open spaces. Her own little style of romance. I was going to have to do something at some point, try to return it somehow.

*

Days turned into weeks. I became more and more sure I would drop chemistry, even if Mum would scold me for it. Practically everybody else took two subjects, why was I taking three? Chemistry labs were going to start overlapping physics labs with a timetable change after Christmas.

Violet was driving me harder with the running, like she was my personal trainer or something. She made it very clear that I was going to learn parkour and do it like she did. We were seeing what heights of fences I could vault over without hurting myself.

"If you have to slow down for something, you're doing it wrong," she said.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 04



I laid on my back to catch my breath after making it over a seven foot chain link fence in one go. I'd performed an accidental flip over the top, which I'm sure looked impressive, but completely ruined my momentum when I landed and nearly fucked up my knee. We always did it in the dark. Probably to try and avoid people, and avoid being caught trespassing, and whatever other illegal things we did. "You taught yourself all this?"

She grinned excitedly again. "Yes."

"Wasn't there, like, someone to show you?"

"I watched other people doing it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"You're fucking mad."

"I know."

I was enjoying it, though. When we went out for these nighttime 'runs' it was just me and her, playing around in a concrete jungle. We only stayed in when it rained. People thought we were complete weirdos, and lots suspcted we were up to something else more shady, but I didn't even care. They could think what they wanted. Everybody on campus knew Violet was some 'drug dealer'. It didn't bother me, because I knew she wasn't.

Maybe I just found it so amusing that people thought I might be mixed up in something. Me? Gangs? Drugs? Come on.

She was spending so much time around my flat, the other flatmates were having to get used to her as some ninth member. I wondered if the landlord was going to complain. I did spend some nights in her room in the campus halls, too, but the halls had a very different atmosphere. Hard to describe. Louder and rowdier. People just seemed to party in and get drunk a lot. Everything felt a lot less personal. Probably why Vi slipped in and out so much and nobody thought anything of it.

She said she liked the flat where Wes and I stayed. She liked my room, because it was bigger. She liked my bed, because it was comfier. And she thought Myles and Claire's arguments were hilarious.

Sometimes we were completely silent while sitting in my room, working on our laptops. She always sat on my bed while I sat at my desk. I offered to get her a chair so she could join me, but she declined. She constantly fidgeted and sat weird while on her laptop - cross-legged, on her stomach, on her side, on her back, legs up the wall with the laptop on her chest.

I'd look around, see her in another of her strange and contorted positions, and burst into laughter. She'd scowl at me, then grin.

"You know," Vi said, sitting more normal one time, using a pillow against the wall with the laptop in her lap as intended. "Someone said something to me once..."

"... Beautifully vague."

"I'm not finished."

I chuckled and looked over my shoulder. "Yeah, and?"

"He said, that you should be rich enough where nobody can tell you what to do. He said that money is the only way to real freedom in the world today."

I didn't respond, and she looked up at me from her screen. Her expression was blank.

"Is that what it's like?" she asked. "Is that what it's like to be rich? Do you feel like you have complete freedom? I mean, what can stop you?"

I stared at the floor with my pause. I wasn't really sure how to answer, or what I wanted to say. "Vi," I finally replied. "I don't know."

"Why?"

"I'm not rich, Vi. My parents are rich. I'm not."

Her head did that little quizzical tilt.

"I don't have something to my name. I'm not a rich person. You know what I'm living off? Generous pocket money. And they don't even have to be doing that."

"I don't get it," she said. "Why don't they spend money on you? I don't understand why they didn't buy you a car. They could get you all these things and make your life perfect."

"They want me to understand what money is."

She looked back down at her screen, but I stayed leaning my arm on the back of my chair, knowing she was thinking and processing it.

"They want you to understand how the world works," she finally said.

"Yeah."

"I'm still trying to figure out how everything works, too."

I smiled, her gaze moved up to meet mine.

"Have you figured it out?" she asked. "Do you understand?"

"Some things."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"How do people get rich?"

"By doing something to get there? It doesn't just happen. Sometimes it's stupid things, but people always do something. You give people what they want, and they'll pay you for it. And if you're really smart, you give them what they need."

She was pattering away on her keyboard. I frowned.

"Is this going into your social science paper?"

"Sort of. I mean, I'm rewording it so it'll at least sound like something I came up with."

I chuckled, shook my head, and turned back to my own laptop, but she wasn't finished yet.

"It's not always true," she said. "Some people are rich without doing anything. Like you."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Inheritance."

"What's your family?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are they? Rich because their families were rich, or rich because they did something for it?"

"Are you fucking writing your paper about me?"

"No, I'm just trying to understand it."

I went over to the bed, curious to see what she was writing, and she willingly turned the laptop towards me. I turned the question over in my head.

"They're a bit of both," I said. "They started out with quite a bit of money, but they turned it into shit tons of money."

"Takes money to get money, I've heard of that. But it's still bullshit. It's like jobs all saying you need experience, but nothing ever taking you on, for you to get that experience in the first place. Where are you supposed to start?"

I grinned and shrugged. "I don't know, Vi. Pure strength of character. Cleverly pitching yourself. Being smart. Being lucky."

"That sounds like business jargon."

"But there's truth in it."

I returned to my desk. She was silent for a while before suddenly piping up. "I've got it. I've fucking got it."

"What?"

"It's breaking the mold. Do something new. Re-invent the wheel."

"People say you're not supposed to re-invent the wheel."

"And that's why we don't have motherfuckin' hover-cars yet."

I guffawed, just like my dad. Oh God. She had a huge grin on her face.

"I get it," she said. "I finally do. I can write this paper now. You take something familiar, because it's not new, it's not scary to people. But you make it better. Your own spin, or genuinely improve it. That's the easy way to getting rich." She folded the laptop closed and sprung to her feet, bouncing off the bed, grabbing me around the shoulders and kissing my cheek. "Thank you! I'm gonna go talk to Wes about this, I'll be right back."

"Vi," I said as she reached the door.

"What?"

"There's an easier way to getting rich."

"Yeah?"

"You marry someone rich."

Her eyes narrowed at me, and she touched a finger to her lips. Shh. I chuckled again as she slipped out and knocked on Wesley's door opposite.

*

I don't know how Christmas came around so fast. We were through November, and getting into December. There was a bit of snow - an inch at best, which had melted away before lunchtime. Adrian made a big deal over it nontheless.

"We're gonna have a white Christmas!"

"Mate," Wesley disagreed. "Don't get your knickers in a twist." Then his arm slung around my neck and he gave me one of his looks. "When are we going home, Dave?"

"I haven't even thought about it yet."

"Well get thinking. And are we taking Vi?"

"... I don't know."

"You've been fucking like rabbits and you're completely obsessed with her. Are you gonna tell them, or am I gonna eventually slip up and mention it?"

"Tyler's gonna rip the shit out of me."

"Yeah, but whatever. I think Vi can handle Tyler, I don't know what you're worrying about."

More days went by with me fussing over it in my head, even if I didn't make it obvious on the outside. Who should I ask first? Violet, if she wants to come home for Christmas? Or Mum, if it's even okay if I bring someone home first?

Damn, I made life difficult for myself. Procrastination pushed me to the edge and forced me to act.

Two days before Wesley and I were due home on the train, I called up Mum.

"Hello, David. Everything good?"

"Mum, this is gonna sound crazy and out of nowhere."

"All right."

"I have a girlfriend and she's pretty amazing and can she come home for Christmas?"

She cackled into my ear. "Oh my goodness!"

There was just that long moment of her laughing and me not knowing what to say.

"Mum, I've been seeing her since October or something, maybe even September, I don't know."

"Why on earth haven't you said anything sooner?"

"Because you're all going to take the piss."

"No we won't."

"Please don't make a big deal."

"We won't, David. Goodness me."

"So is it okay?"

"Of course! I don't see why not."

I hung up grinning, then quickly called Violet. "Vi, are you up for a spontaneous change of plans?"

"Err?" she replied.

"Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?"

She actually squeaked. Fuck, I should have asked her in person. We'd already decided that being apart for a week or more was going to suck.

"Seriously? Can I?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's awesome. I still want to see my parents at New Year though, okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay, nice, I gotta call my mum."

She hung up without saying bye, in her usual fashion. She almost didn't finish the word 'mum'.

*

It all went well at first, until we stopped at another station for our cross-over train... and it never came. Ten minutes of delay turned into forty-five, then it was cancelled. Stranded in this town we didn't know, in the dark, in the cold, the three of us changing from bored, to restless, to annoyed, to apathetic.

"Sweet baby Jesus," Wesley said, staring up at the screen with the travel information. Another train was supposed to be on the way, but now that had been delayed, too.

We'd waited there at least three hours by then. Other people had been and left, giving up in the time we'd adamantly stayed, looking for other forms of transport. It was a small platform with nowhere that was particularly indoors, nowhere particularly sheltered. We sat on our suitcases in a corner, and Violet suggested everybody donating their least favourite clothes to start a fire.

"Just need some marshmellows," Wesley agreed, plonking himself back onto his suitcase. Violet sat with her knees hugged to her chest, face mostly hidden by her scarf like a balaclava. I needed to get up and pace around, trying to use my feet before I lost my toes to frostbite.

There was finally some news on my phone that could explain what the problem was all about. I scrolled through the screen with frozen fingers. "Check this out," I said, as I covered the length of the platform back to them. "Some girl threw herself on the track."

"So it was a suicide?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah."

"Great. Fucking great. What a time to do it. Bet she's ruined Christmas for her whole family."

I tutted at him, but he was so cold and bored he was beyond any sort of caring.

"Bet she was gonna get drafted," Violet said.

"Probably," Wesley replied. "Man, if we'd taken an earlier train, we might've been the ones who hit her."

"You'd have liked that?" I asked.

"Fuck no. Did the train derail? Does it say anything about that?"

I flicked through the screen. "Doubt it."

A voice came on overhead, telling us that the train we needed was going to arrive in fifteen minutes. Wesley hooted and gave a muffled clap of his gloved hands. Shortly after, my phone vibrated with an incoming call.

"Where the fuck are you?" Dad's voice growled into my ear.

"Trains are royally fucked up," I replied. "Big delays. Suicide on the tracks."

He sighed one of those long, heartfelt, grizzly sighs. "You know, I could have driven down there, picked you up, and been back home by now."

"I know, but don't worry about it, train's only ten minutes. But we're not going to get there 'til after twelve. There won't be any buses going."

"Don't worry, someone will be there to pick you up. Text me when you're twenty minutes off."

I sat back with Violet and Wesley, and we all stared at the information screen, watching every minute tick down.

"What are your parents' names?" Violet asked.

"You call them Mumma and Pappa," Wesley replied.

"No, seriously, I need to know what to call them."

"Mumma and Pappa."

"Wes."

I chuckled. "Dad is Zack, Mum is Amelia. But you can call her Lia."

The conversation continued as the train finally pulled in, and we clambered into the heated interior. Every carriage seemed empty and we went straight for a table in first class, dragging suitcases behind us. We were discussing Hanna. I had already explained the bone disease to Vi, but I went over it again.

"You just have to be super careful, super gentle with her. If she trips over and lands on an arm she might break that arm, you just never know."

"I get it," Vi said. "I won't hurt her. Don't worry."

"She's also, erm, a bit autistic."

"What does that mean? 'A bit'?"

I looked at Wesley, knowing he could probably explain better than me.

"Basically, she'll take everything you say very literally," he said. "So just be careful what you say. That's all you need to know."

"Okay. And your uncles are gay?"

"Tyler will debate over that," Wesley replied.

"Why?"

I grinned at our reflections in the window. "He's bi."

"But they're married?"

"Yeah."

"Were you there? What was it like? Just like a normal wedding, but with two guys?"

Such a barrage of questions. I couldn't really tell if Violet was nervous, or being her typical, overly curious self.

"I guess it was normal," I replied. "Darren wore a white suit and Tyler wore a black one. And they both got stupidly drunk at the party afterwards." She looked at me like I was supposed to say more, but I shrugged. "I was only eight. I don't remember much else. Loud, rowdy adults."

We talked about our family pretty much the whole way. I kept an eye on the time and sent a text to Dad. We picked up our luggage and got off the train into a very empty station, making our way through it for the carpark.

Dad's car was easy to spot. Back when there'd been the issues with protesters, he'd traded in a normal Audi saloon for a big black SUV, complete with tinted windows, because he thought it made him more 'intimidating'. Four years later, Tyler was still taking the piss out of him for it.

The driver's door sounded open and shut as we approached, and Dad appeared around the bonnet.

"Aww," Wesley teased. "No sports car?"

"You think I'm gonna let Tyler meet David's girlfriend before me?"

I released Violet's hand as Dad held out his for a shake. It was only brief, then he was moving around to the boot to load up our suitcases. I couldn't really tell if she was intimidated by him, like most people are on first meeting. She was sizing him up, that much I could see, but she didn't have much of a reaction.

It was just as well Dad turned up, and not Tyler. There was no way the three of us, plus our luggage, were fitting into one of his sports cars. Wesley got into the front while Violet and I got into the back. Dad turned the key in the ignition and made brief eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, twitching an eyebrow.

Yeah, okay Dad. What was that eyebrow twitch supposed to mean?

Wesley talked about why the trains were delayed the whole drive, while Vi and I stayed mostly silent. She cared about looking outside, studying everything we drove past, more than anything.

She looked left when we turned left, looked right when we turned right. Sometimes she peered over Dad's seat to look out the front. When she finally made eye contact with me, she grinned. Then we pulled up to the house and that took her full attention again.

We had a pretty big house. Not huge, but enough. Fully detached. Tall hedges at the front that gave some privacy, and a long driveway splitting a large front garden in half. The back garden was a bit bigger still. There was all this ivy climbing up the front left of the house - pretty aesthetic.

Violet was still taking everything in as we got out, retrieved our luggage, and headed for the front door.

Houses all have their own smell. And my house smelt like home. All the familiar sensations of stepping inside flooded me, clashing with the fact that Vi was there, too. It was almost overwhelming, seeing her there, in that environment. She was completely inside the bubble of my life now.

I'd never brought a girl home before.

Her head was turning, studying everything. She must have been in even more of a sensory overdrive than I was.

I held out a hand, she gave me a quizzical look. "Jacket," I said.

"Oh." She slipped it off over her shoulders and I hung it up while the sounds of Wesley talking with Mum came from the lounge. Vi went in ahead of me.

It was nearly 1am, so I guessed this 'meet and greet' wouldn't go on for too long. Mum was as jovial as ever, giving Violet a hug and gushing away while Wes went to the kitchen to get some drinks. Dad sat himself on the sofa, quietly. He was studying Violet. Carefully. Intensely.

I wished he wouldn't. The defensive feeling steadily grew. My dad has this... thing, where he's like a mind-reader. If, for some reason, he was going to decide he didn't like Violet, I didn't know what I was going to do.

What was he judging? Her clothes? The way she carried herself?

I purposely moved in the way of his vision, then took her hand and led her over to the sofa, sitting her next to him. Judge her now, Dad. Ten centimetres away. Try without making it obvious. You prick.

There was some light chatter about our physics class, and how we had met. Then we were interrupted by the door slowly coming open.

Hanna stood there in her pyjamas, peering in, staring at Violet. Mum beckoned her to come closer, but she didn't. When Violet sat forwards she almost backed up, like a little cat being startled.

"Hanna," I said. "This is Violet, my girlfriend."

She briefly looked at me, but then back to Violet.

"Come in and say hello," Mum continued. "Don't be rude, dear."

Hanna obliged and shuffled into the room. She came close enough that she almost touched Vi's knees, blinked, then her arm jutted out for a handshake. I watched Violet slowly, gently, slip her palm into Hanna's to return it. I think I glowed inside.

"Hi. I'm Hanna."

"You look a lot like David."

Hanna beamed, but stepped away to grab Wesley's hand while he stood chugging his glass of Coke. "Wes is adopted," she said. "That's why he looks different."

Wesley nearly spat out his mouthful, Dad erupted with wheezing mirth, Mum looked up at the ceiling with a grin. Violet looked at me, then back to Hanna. Then again at me, at a loss of what to say.

"Err..."

Wesley cleared his throat. "She knows, Hanna."

"Okay, good!" She came back over, one hand on Violet's knee, one on mine, looking between us with some sort of dawning excitement. Before deciding she better climb onto Dad's lap for a bit of safety. You know, just in case Violet bites.

"So you're in class together too?" Mum asked.

"Yeah, social science," Wesley replied.

So there was a bit more chatter about that. Dad had finally stopped his thing, but now Hanna was the one staring far too intently. Couldn't win with this family. Violet didn't seem too bothered by it all, in fact she impressed me with how calm she was.

"Well," Mum said. "I'm expecting you're tired. Goodness, I'm tired. And you shouldn't be up at all."

"But Mum," Hanna protested. Dad was already lifting her and she peeked over his shoulder with a sheepish grin as he carried her out.

I didn't pick up and carry Violet, but I did tug her to her feet, and pulled her into the hallway. I felt I had to keep her attention, or she'd run off into some room and I'd find her nose in every drawer in the house. She was so alert, she was itching for it.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 04



"Everything okay in your room?" Mum asked, giving me a subtle look with her eyes. I nodded back with a smirk. Yes, Mum, I've already slept with her.

I would've offered to carry Violet's suitcase but she was already lugging the thing up the stairs behind me.

Her eyes moved across everything in my room, taking it in. I didn't consider my room embarrassing, but I guess it had the tales of an entire childhood in it. She was going to have a picnic. I took our toiletries to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and sure enough, when I came back in, she was going to town.

She was digging under my bed, butt sticking up in the air. I slapped it through her jeans, and she jolted and banged her head against the bedframe. She pulled out, clutching and rubbing it while giving me one of her scowls, but smiled.

"You're terrible," I said.

"Yeah." She pointed to a shelf that was slightly too high for her to comfortably reach. "What's that?"

I took it down. A remote controlled car, mostly metal, that certainly didn't look like something you'd buy anywhere in a toy shop. "Mum and Tyler made this for me, when I was a kid."

"Made it for you?"

"It's quite heavy," I warned, before passing the weight into her hands. She was fascinated by it, and looked to the shelf for the control.

"Does it still work?"

"Yeah, but I'd have to charge it."

"Show me later." She gave it back and disappeared out. Her faint voice came from the bathroom, talking with Mum, who was doing everything possible to make her feel welcome, giving a brief explanation of the layout of the house. Then there was Wesley's voice... Then Dad's... Oh God, come on. I lounged on the bed, waiting for her.

She came in with an expression that said everything was simply amazing. A wide, happy grin, her eyes almost sparkling. She sat on the bed beside me, looked around the room again, but didn't say anything. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against me.

There wasn't any sex that night. I was genuinely tired, had spent too many hours waiting about in the cold, and Vi was all over the place. She did manage to settle beneath the duvet, but she was a fidget. Head on my chest, on my shoulder, on the pillow, rolling one way, rolling back. I let out a drowsy chuckle and spooned her to hold her in place. I was happy, too. Just wanted to sleep.

I hadn't felt as though I'd had enough hours when something woke me up. Weak sunlight pierced the curtains and I returned to the pillow. My phone vibrated beneath it. Then again. It couldn't be my alarm, as I hadn't set it. I tried to ignore it but it vibrated another time.

I squinted at the screen to check it. It vibrated yet again in my hand, adding to a string of messages.

"Kid.

Kid.

Kid.

Kid.

Kid."

"Wot m8," I thumbed in reply.

"Heard you got a gf."

---

Violet

When I first woke up, I had that moment of wondering where I was. The only familiar thing was the skin and heat of the body touching me. David was fiddling with the pillow, which had brought me to.

"What is it?" I asked, catching a glimpse of the phone in his hand.

"Nothing." He shifted back into a comfortable position, fingers brushing up my thigh. "Uncles are coming over at somepoint. They want to meet you."

I was still getting my head around it. What was it, my fifteen minutes of fame? These rich, well-to-do people, with big houses and nice cars, were intrigued by my existence. Interested in meeting me.

The fingertips continued their movements across my skin, tracing from my knee, up my inner thigh. I moved the leg a little, giving him easier access if he wanted it, but the hand and forearm brushed higher. Kisses moved across my neck, teeth gently on my ear. The hand cupping my tit squeezed harder.

He was still drowsy, affectionate, but he was moving with a little more intent. I stroked down to his crotch. Rock hard, of course. "Good morning," I mumbled.

He let out that airy laughter against my ear, then his lips moved down my shoulder, to my chest. His tongue circled a nipple, before taking it into his mouth. He flicked, sucked, and even bit, until he had me squirming. When I breathed out a moan he moved across to the other one.

I squeezed my legs together, twisted and writhed, then tried to turn onto my side, leg over his hip. My fingers found a drip of pre-cum, and gripped around his shaft with the intent of getting him inside me.

He rolled onto me, pinned my forearms, and held me down with his sheer body weight. "You're so impatient," he said.

I giggled, trying to squirm more. Freeing myself would take effort. He kissed my neck, my clavicle, then down between my tits, and kept moving lower. He almost disappeared beneath the duvet, but I moved it. I wanted to see him.

He didn't just use his tongue. He used his whole mouth, kissing and sucking. It was incredible when he went down on me. I guess with a hungry tongue and lips, eager to please, not much can go wrong.

He looked up from between my thighs, his smile obvious in his eyes. He knew he could drive me crazy. His tongue stroked through the folds, flicked over my clit, before closing his lips around it and sucking, giving it the same treatment as my nipples.

"Oh, yes," I moaned. If every morning could be like this, I'd be a very happy girl.

I grabbed a handful of his hair, bucking, grinding, almost riding his face until I came. It was powerful, jolting through my body, and left me pulsing, trembling. I flinched every time his tongue brushed over me, gently lapping up my fluids. Then I just laid there, flat on my back, sweating, grinning at the ceiling.

He lifted himself, wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, and grinned back at me.

"You're good, you know," I said.

"Cheers."

I sat up and gave his cock a stroke, ready to return the favour.

"Nah," he said, taking my hand away. "You can do me in the shower."

"Oh, really?"

"Come on. It's a bigger shower than at the flat."

So he convinced me, somehow. I might've rolled my eyes and grumbled, but I didn't care anywhere near as much as I made it look. He pulled on some boxers, wrapped himself up in a fluffy bathrobe, and disappeared out. When he came back in he tossed a second fluffy bathrobe at me.

"Spare of my mum's," he said. "I think it'll fit you."

I took it with a grin. It had a scent of fabric softener, and I snuggled up in it. As far as I was concerned, I was being treated like royalty.

There were two things I could offer him for being my first times, and sucking his cock was one of them. Before him I'd received quite a lot of oral, and never returned it. Selfish, right? I'd never been interested in doing it. Until I met David. It was probably the whole 'actually caring' thing.

After we'd stopped pissing and giggling around, wasting more than enough shower gel, I got down on my knees and took him into my mouth. I was still experimenting and learning, running my tongue up the underside, circling it around the head. And still too eager to go deep and quickly gagging. He let out a gentle chuckle and stroked his fingers through my hair.

"Easy."

I grinned up at him. "What, throwing up on your dick isn't sexy?"

He chuckled more, but moaned when I pushed the head of his cock back through my lips. I found a comfortable depth and rhythm, bobbing on his length until my jaw ached. I hadn't known how fun I would find it, how much I'd love the reactions it got from him. When I had one of the most sensitive parts of his body in my mouth like that, he was at my mercy. I could bring him to the brink, then stop, listening to his moans. I could give a brush of teeth and feel him shudder.

I got to my feet to finish him with my hand while kissing him. He broke it, ribs heaving with a groan, leaning back against the tiles. I felt his cum hitting my stomach but my eyes stayed on his face, watching that blissful expression.

I rinsed off and got out before him. I was wrapping up in the bathrobe again when he turned off the water. I left him leaning over the sink, towel around his waist, ducking out of the door and catching a glimpse of Amelia coming up the stairs.

I pushed his room's door to, towelling off my hair and giving it a quick brush.

Amelia and David's voices came from the bathroom. I looked around his things to occupy myself while I waited for him. A chest of drawers, another cabinet, his wardrobe. He did have some very nice clothes, clearly not things he thought suitable to take to university, like the expensive suit hung up at the far end - jacket, waistcoat, tie, and trousers all on the same hanger.

Amelia's laughter sounded out. "Shut up, Mum," David's voice chuckled in return. He came in grinning, and I tried to sit on the bed as though I hadn't, once again, been nosing around his stuff.

"What?" I asked.

"She's taking the piss out of me." He tilted his head and ran a hand across his jaw.

"Oh." He'd been grooming a bit, trimming down that scruffy beard to something more 'presentable'. He could keep it as scruffy as he liked for all I cared. I kinda liked it.

He took me downstairs to get some 'breakfast', nearly lunch. We had to step around Hanna who was sitting on the floor in the lounge, controller in her hands, gaze fixed solidly on the game she played on the TV screen on the wall.

Zack was at the kitchen table and Amelia was standing by the counter. They were discussing something about the newspaper, then Amelia erupted into a delighted laugh, clapped her hands, and hurried over to take a look at it. She was slender, but bouncy and energetic, brown-haired and brown-eyed, with fair skin.

David pushed me down into a chair while he sorted some food. I offered to help, but he rejected - "No, you're the guest, you sit right there."

So I did sit there, opposite from Zack, who gave me a smirk. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Zack was everything like a bigger, bulkier, meaner version of David. His skin was a little darker in tone, his eyes were a darker green, I could even swear his hair was a darker black, except for the first subtle signs of grey. And the beard on his jaw put David's to shame.

Their voices, though. They bounced across that room with almost identical pitch and tone, difficult to distinguish, interrupted here and there by Amelia.

I was probably supposed to be thinking about how David got his looks from his father, but honestly, something about Zack was unsettling. I couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe it was how he looked at me without ever blinking. They might have looked similar, but they didn't feel similar. Different mannerisms. Different moods hanging around them.

No, I was more thinking that David got his 'looks' from his mother. Their energy and cheerful laughter, the light in their eyes.

Wesley and Hanna were arguing in the lounge, over the game, over the controller. "Because you're shit at it," Wesley teased.

"No, go away."

"Give it here."

"No."

"Give it."

"No!"

"You're never gonna do it on this difficulty."

"Fuck off."

Amelia chuckled and shook her head. "Hanna," she called. "We don't use that language until you're thirteen."

"But Mum!"

Whatever was going on in there, Wesley must have gotten the controller and failed horribly, because Hanna shrieked with giggling laughter. "You're shit too!"

"Goodness me," Amelia said, giving me an apologetic look, as though I'd be offended by a cursing 11-year-old. "We do our best."

Zack gestured at David, frying eggs over the stove. "I think he's been raised pretty well."

David tossed a goofy grin over his shoulder.

We dressed properly after eating, and lounged in David's room for a while. He propped up on the pillows, looking through something on his phone, and I laid with my head against his chest, studying the paint on the ceiling.

"You don't have to be so quiet," he said.

I tilted my head for a better view of his face. "Huh?"

He slowly smiled, but his eyes stayed on the small screen in his hands. "You can talk here, it's okay."

"Sorry." Hopefully I wasn't coming across as rude, but I thought I was being quite normal. There were things to understand and make sense of in that environment. I searched through my suitcase for my hairbrush. He didn't have a mirror in his room, so I sorted my dry hair through feel and muscle memory.

He rolled onto his side, watching me. "Does my dad scare you?"

"No."

"It's okay. He scares everybody."

I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. "He's not that scary, David."

"He used to scare the shit out of Wes."

"Something changed there, then."

"Yeah. I can't figure out if Wes grew a pair, or Dad got softer."

I turned away to sift through my suitcase again, and heard him getting up from the bed. When I stood straight, his knuckles brushed my cheek. He kissed my ear.

"Are you worrying how you look?" he asked.

"No."

"Well, in case you are, you look beautiful."

I gave him a smile. His fingers stroked through my hair, across my scalp, down to the nape of my neck, then cupped my cheek. The kiss he gave me was so gentle and sweet, but my heart raced. I pressed into him and my hand slid under his shirt to the heat of his stomach. I wasn't trying to instigate anything in that moment, I just wanted to be... closer.

His expression said he thought otherwise, the raised eyebrow and deep chuckle in his chest. "Come on," he said, taking my hand, and leading me back downstairs.

We spent most of that afternoon sitting on the sofa, watching the antics of Hanna on her games. She took them very seriously, caring about completing difficulty levels, time limits, achievements, the like. The controller got passed around, to Wes, to David, to me, seeing if we could beat her, or help her with the levels she struggled with. At one point even Zack sat on the floor and joined in, doing his very best to beat his daughter's high score and getting damn close. Then he went out and drove down to the shop to get something for Amelia for the dinner.

This was a family, like any other, and this was what their Saturdays were like. I didn't know if it was anything close to what I'd been expecting. I hadn't really been forming an opinion, or putting much thought into it, before I arrived. I didn't know what rich people did.

Somewhere around 5pm, a loud car pulled down the house's driveway. It growled a few times, the driver purposely revving the engine to state their presence.

"Tyler's here," Hanna piped, but didn't take her eyes off the screen.

The car went silent. Wesley and David got to their feet. A key sounded in the front door, a couple of faint voices, one of them deeper than the other. Then the higher one roared out.

"Kids!"

The lounge door flung open as the first uncle hurtled into the room. He collided with David in something that was either a tackle or a hug. David spluttered with laughter, staggered back, fell into Wesley, and the three hit the floor in an ungainly pile.

Hanna ignored the commotion happening three feet away, staring intently at her game.

"Fuck," Wesley wheezed, trying to free himself from the elbows and knees. "Fuck sake, Tyler." They'd narrowly missed the Christmas tree.

David tried to get up and greet the second uncle coming through the door, but Tyler shoved him back down. There was more swearing, wrestling, chuckling, and finally an elbow to the chin that got him free.

Can't say I'd been expecting to see something like that.

The second uncle was behaving a little more... conventionally? He stood at the door, loosening a scarf around his neck, eyebrow raised at the three on the carpet. His expression cracked with a grin when David finally got to his feet and embraced him.

"Good God, Tyler," Amelia said from the kitchen. "Anyone would think you hadn't seen them in a year."

"It's not actually them I'm excited about."

Wesley scoffed and pointed at me. "There she is. Go and say hello, you prick."

I untucked my legs from beneath me and stood from the sofa. Tyler shook my hand with a handsome grin and all the calm confidence in the world, but there was something mischievous in the brown eyes. "I take it you know my name," he said.

"And you know mine?"

"Doesn't matter if he knows it," David said, moving up behind him. "He's gonna make up his own one for you anyways."

Tyler chuckled. "This kid hates me." He stepped away towards the kitchen, pulling off the jacket he hadn't yet removed with his rush to get inside. His space was filled by the second.

The infamous Darren Sörensen. This man was some kind of a big deal, to some people at least, and I was shaking his hand. Cold, grey-blue eyes stared out from beneath thick brows, but they creased with crow's feet when he smiled. I think I managed to smile back. He headed for the kitchen as well, gently touching the top of Hanna's head as he passed her. She grinned, but otherwise stayed fixed on the TV screen.

David and I sat back down on the sofa. He slung his arm around my shoulders and I leant into him. Amelia's laughter rang out from the kitchen. There was some chatter, then Tyler came back through, carrying jacket and scarf and other things towards the hall. "Hey, kid."

"Which one," Wesley flatly replied.

"The short one. You'll know if I'm talking to you, you fucking stork."

"Hanna's the short one," David said.

"Yes, but I don't call her names."

"He's lying," Hanna said. "He's been bullying me since you've been gone."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have."

"Shut up, pip."

"You see!" She paused her game and looked around at David with wide eyes and open mouth, as if it was his fault. He just pulled a face back at her.

"Kid," Tyler said again. "I hear you want to drop chemistry."

"Don't start," David replied. "You don't even understand how much work I have."

Tyler chuckled and went back to the kitchen. Wesley followed him, then so did Hanna. It hadn't exactly been quiet during the afternoon with the video game antics, but now it was getting even louder. Erupting hyper energies. Deep voices, higher voices, a rumbling chuckle followed by squeaky laughter. I looked at David and he just gave me a grin and a shrug.

"Hanna, don't stand behind me," Amelia's voice said. "I'll step on your foot and crush your toes."

"But Mum-"

"Move, move! And you, Wes. Get out. Kids, out of the kitchen."

Zack picked up Hanna, acting as though he was about to toss her through the air to Tyler, but then gently passed her. Tyler did the same and passed her to Darren, who carried her into the lounge while she giggled, and sat beside us on the sofa with her on his knee.

"Wes!" Amelia scolded, and there was some sound, as if she'd slapped him - not in the face or anything, likely shoulder or chest. He squawked with laughter. There was a growl, another eruption of Wesley's laughter, and Zack moved into view, carrying Wesley in his arms in a similar fashion to Hanna.

"Ty, catch."

Tyler had barely looked around at the mention of his name, and did not catch. There was a flailing collision of limbs. Tyler stumbled backwards through the door, tumbled onto his butt, and their skulls smacked together with a painful, audible crack.

David roared with laughter in my ear.

"Aukcht!" Darren scoffed in sympathy.

"Fuck me!" Wesley cried, rolling away, clutching at his head. "Why do you have such a hard fucking head, Tyler?!"

Tyler stayed flat on his back on the floor, face screwed up, hand clasped over the area of impact. David and Zack's laughter mingled together into the same ear-splitting sound. Amelia's face appeared around the doorframe, wearing some sort of shocked scowl. Darren's eyes were shut, massaging his brow, but he was grinning.

I couldn't breathe. I was laughing, too. Oh God, I was nearly crying.

"Well done, Tyler," Zack wheezed.

"I fail to see how that was my fault."




Hornet's Nest Ch. 05



---

David

I wouldn't say the second half of that university year went fast. I think it went at a normal pace. Student life had a way of keeping itself interesting. Time could fly, but there'd be all those bumps and hurdles to slow it down.

My chemistry professor had a long talk with me and convinced me not to drop the subject. If I could at least complete two years, I'd get something out of it. If I didn't even complete the first year it'd be a complete waste of everyone's time. I wanted to tell her how much I didn't care, but kept myself in check. Getting frustrated and snappy would just be immature, right? It wasn't her fault.

Then she did the most unexpected thing. She started talking about my family's company.

"Woah woah," I interrupted. "You were on the phone to my mum?"

"Yes, she rang me up the other day, wanting to know about the course."

My face screwed up behind my hand, and the professor laughed.

"So she warned you about me coming in here, huh?" I asked.

"She did say you'd been struggling."

God. Cheers, Mum. I was supposed to be an adult and she was still doing these things. It could be endearing and absolutely infuriating at the same time.

"It turned into quite a conversation," the professor continued. She went on and on, telling me about it while I listened and nodded.

Of course. I should've known. In certain areas, my mum's name was quite renowned. Wherever Darren had shyed away from the media, Mum had been there to cover him. Her voice had been on the radio a few times, she'd participated in a couple of interviews on TV. If my chemistry professor was someone who kept up with these sorts of things, she might've felt like she'd talked to a bit of a celebrity down the phone.

"So I guess it was always quite techy for you at home?" she asked.

I smirked and shrugged. "Well, if the PC or PlayStation broke, Mum was always there to fix it."

She smiled, but then looked down at her desk. "It's a shame the war monopolised things."

I didn't know how to have this conversation. Stuff about the company had been there, all my life. I'd forever been surrounded by it. And yet, I didn't have an opinion on it. I guess over-exposure chips away at novelty. Mum and Dad were always busy, sometimes travelling over the country. Darren spent a lot of time talking to people, other big names in the corporate world. Tyler spent days locked up underground in labs, getting all excited over things he couldn't talk about.

People usually thought it was a bigger deal than it was. I'd been around the company complex a lot. I'd seen everything. It wasn't that special.

"I heard the government bought you out," my professor said.

'You'. She was associating me with the company, when in reality, I had nothing to do with it.

"No," I said.

"Your family does still own it?"

"Yes."

The whole thing was still privately owned, even if there were shares, despite whatever rumours said. Darren wasn't some fucking greedy sell-out. I wasn't saying these things, even if the conversation irritated me. I stayed polite.

My mood didn't improve much. I went into that office with the intent of dropping a course, but walked out convinced to continue, and had to endure a weirdly personal and private conversation. I'm sure the professor didn't mean anything by it, was just trying to make some sort of connection with one of her students. Perhaps I was supposed to talk about this stuff a lot, and was just a weirdo that I didn't.

*

Bad moods were burnt out by the cold night air and Violet's footsteps reminding me that she could still outrun me.

It wasn't only running. She wanted to strengthen me up in all other ways, too. The parkour was a full body workout.

She tried very hard to beat me at push-ups, but she couldn't. So she resorted to spitefully sitting on my back to make it more difficult for me. And making me laugh. And tickling me if all else failed.

"Come on," she said, laying on her stomach opposite me in my room, chin resting on clasped hands. "Ten more."

I glared at her, letting out a low growl as I tried to meet her demand. She giggled and her hands pattered the floor.

"So sexy."

"Yeah?" I growled again.

She was enjoying every single grunt of exertion that escaped my throat. "You're so fucking manly."

I cracked up. I couldn't do any more. She rolled onto her back, tilting her head and grinning at me, so cute and cheeky. She was wearing one of those semi-transparent tank tops. My eyes slid from her face, to the colours of her bra, to the hands clasped on her stomach, to her slightly crossed legs, one foot swinging in the air.

"You're very, erm, womanly?"

She laughed as well, and sat up. "Holy shit. What is that?"

"What?"

"What is 'womanly'?"

"Erm. Having tits?"

She let out another yelp of laughter. "Okay. I think I barely make that."

"Pfft. You've also got this amazing arse." I reached over to grab it but she rolled away.

"Yeah, okay. And a tight pussy?"

"Yeah, that too."

I stalked after her while she kept crawling away. Once backed up against the wall she made a wild leap for the bed, jumping on it one way and another to dodge me, mattress springs making an unhappy sound and frame thudding against the wall. She tried to leap off again when I lunged, but the duvet betrayed her, sliding out from beneath her foot and fucking up her jump.

She hit the desk chair, knocked it over, and faceplanted the floor with a crashing thud.

I shouldn't laugh at her misfortune, but I did. She let out some pained chuckling in return.

Melissa's fist banged against the wall from the room next door, followed by her muffled voice. "What are you doing in there?"

Training for parkour, apparently.

What Vi did manage to beat me at, was pull-ups. We found somewhere under building work, covered in scaffolding, and to Violet, that was simply an over-sized climbing frame. She complained that I wasn't scaling it fast enough, so she challenged me to a series of pull-ups on one of the bars.

When I had to stop before her she laughed, completely revelling in her victory, and still managed to do a few more to prove her point.

"Holy shit," she said, dropping down.

I grunted and stretched my arms. "I'm heavier than you."

"Yeah, and you also got bigger arms. No excuse."

"Pfft."

"I'm stronger than you."

"No you're fucking not."

She dodged me again and started to climb, so I chased. Since she was shorter than me, I could know that anywhere she went, it was safe for me to follow. But this time I chose my own path, seeing if I could beat her to the top. I don't know if it was because of the dark putting me into some concentrated tunnel vision, or if having fun made me forget that I was doing something dangerous, but at one point I looked down and finally just realised I was holding onto a metal scaffolding bar thirty feet off the ground. Nothing but solid concrete below.

Holy shit.

And I just kept climbing higher.

She did beat me to the top, but only just. The air was so cold, we had to keep moving to keep warm. We traced along the wooden planking, through draped plastic sheets. A window of the building had no glass, but Vi peered inside and decided it was uninteresting. We went to the roof instead.

"Think you can make this jump?" she asked, gesturing to the slightly lower roof of a neighbour building.

How wide was the gap? Ten feet? Twelve feet?

"I'll try," I said.

"Okay. Don't hurt yourself." She backed up, broke into a sprint, and covered the jump with a practised confidence, landing with a roll and standing straight with a short stagger the other side.

I copied her without allowing myself to think about it. She ran again when she saw I would land fine, and springing up with the momentum from my own roll, I didn't try to stop. I just kept going. We covered a jump to a second building, then a third. But the fourth was different. The roof was higher. Ahead of me Violet once again threw herself across the gap, and grabbed hold of the ledge.

I didn't have time to hesitate. I jumped and my hands hit the edge, arms and fingers taking the full weight of my body. I was now hanging from a building's roof, however many feet in the air. Fuck me. The soles of my trainers had just enough grip on the bricks to help in lifting myself up.

Violet was waiting for me with an open grin, breathing through light pants. "Awesome," she said.

Blood was pounding in my ears. This was my first time doing anything off the ground. My training was getting somewhere. And it did feel awesome.

She walked around the roof, peering over the edge, looking for a way down. I trailed her, watching her.

I had another problem building up. It was like all this time we'd only been messing around. Like we took the piss out of everything. Like we weren't taking ourselves seriously. I wasn't sure how it had started. Perhaps simply by the way Violet was - that deflective shell that you wouldn't realise was there until you tried to push through it. If something got a bit deep, she'd turn it into a joke, or brush it off and move on to something else.

She could easily manipulate a conversation, changing subject, until ten minutes later I'd wonder how something got derailed. And I was spotting it happening more and more.

I felt I might be making it impossible for myself, putting it off for too long, like how I'd kept staring at Vi across physics instead of approaching and talking. But I wasn't going to do that again.

What I was feeling was so intense I was sure it couldn't be wrong. And even if she was never going to say it back, I was going to get it off my chest. She might be someone who wanted to keep things locked up in her head, but I could never be like that.

I'd just been running and jumping across the rooves of buildings. Right then, I had all the guts in the world.

She had found wherever we were about to climb down, but I grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back. She let out a nonchalant giggle when I kissed her - it wasn't like I was doing something unusual - but when she tried to pull away again I didn't let go.

"Vi. At what point am I allowed to tell you that I love you?"

She stared at me in silence.

"Because I do. I really, really fucking love you."

The pause stretched even longer. She pulled her sleeve out of my grip and I let her go. I had braced myself for it to be unrequited. It's not like I had any idea how she could not love me, but there were strange ways her mind worked and I didn't understand it.

She looked close to panicked, as if she would bolt off and start jumping rooves again to escape me. Her eyes made a few darting movements, but it didn't happen. Instead she focused back on climbing down and didn't say a word.

I don't know why I wasn't hurt. Guess I'd braced myself well. I was more... curious, than anything. Why was it affecting her so much? Was she scared of the commitment? She'd promised me at the very start of this, 'no screwing around'.

She started running once we were on the ground, and I kept beside her in silence. Not a word was said the whole way home. We came to the corner by the campus gates and she looked over her shoulder at me.

"I'm going to go back to my room," she said. A completely emotionless tone.

"Okay."

I leant in to kiss her, and she kissed me back, but walked off towards the campus halls without saying anything else. I headed down the street for my flat. It still wasn't hurting, but I was getting a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I went straight to my room and considered messaging her, to apologise if I'd been too intense, or something. But no, fuck it. I'd be lying. I wasn't sorry for saying it. If she had problems with it then they were exactly that - her problems. Not mine. Some gut emotional intelligence was telling me to give her space.

I was in bed when she messaged me. It's not like I'd been anywhere close to falling asleep and I checked the screen.

"I love you too."

A little childish voice in my head said 'score', and I wanted to smack myself, but the whole thing just made me grin. I typed a response. "You needed some time to think about that, huh?"

"Sorry," she replied.

Then it started vibrating with a string of messages.

"I don't know why I freaked out.

I'm sorry.

You know what.

I'm stupid.

I'm gonna come over yours, is that ok?"

"Of course."

I got straight out of bed and got dressed, back into the cold air outside, meeting her halfway down the road. I ran into her, scooped her up, and kissed her. She giggled, legs wrapping around my waist.

"I love you," she said. "I do. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It's just that I-"

I kissed her again to shut her up. I didn't really care what her hang-ups were, so long as they weren't getting between us. Sometimes actions could be more refreshingly straight-forward than words.

*

In late February I got another email from the landlord. Adrian was behind on rent, again. And since it was the second time in a few months, the landlord was pretty pissed. It was supposed to be an automatic payment.

I went and knocked on his door. And had to knock again, louder, before I got a response. He opened it with headphones around his neck, pulling his frustrated face that I had interrupted whatever he was doing.

"What?"

"Mate," I said. "Rent?"

"Oh, for fuck sake." He stepped back into his room and I followed him in.

"Just set up an automatic payment, like you're supposed to, if you're gonna keep forgetting it."

"No, it's not that. Fuck sake."

"What is it?"

"My fucking parents. We had a fall out and they haven't put the money in my rent account."

I raked my fingers through my hair. "I thought you sorted things with them over Christmas."

"Yeah, well, it happened again. It's my fucking step-dad, man. Proper wanker."

"Well, you gotta sort something."

He paced a bit then walked out, heading down the hallway for the lounge and kitchen. I trailed him.

"Adrian, seriously. Just tell them you need the fucking money."

"Man I can't."

"Can't or just don't want to?"

"David."

We were now going to have this discussion in front of four other flatmates. Was that what he intended by leaving his room, hoping it would deter me somehow? What the fuck did he expect me to do? He couldn't just leave the rent unpaid.

"I'll point the landlord towards them, if you want," I continued. "Just give me details."

"No, the rent account is in my name. It'll just make it worse. Don't do it, man."

"You've got to pay."

"I can't."

"You don't have the money in your personal account?"

"No." He pulled out his phone and flicked through it, then showed me the screen, with bank details. "Look. This is fucking everything I got right now."

"What's going on?" Melissa asked.

"My fuckin' parents want me kicked out on the street," Adrian replied.

I shook my head. It seemed so ridiculous to me. "Adrian, look. I'll pay this month for you, but you have got to get that money, and pay me back."

His eyes snapped to me in surprise. "David, don't worry about it, man."

"Landlord doesn't have any patience for this and I'm not seeing you on the street."

"I don't know if I'll manage to get them to give me any money. I need a job."

"Stop being a little prick and sort things out with them. You're not fourteen any more."

He rolled his eyes. "Fuck. I have two step-dads."

The funny thing is, I actually took it as a compliment. He disappeared back to his room and I was about to head for mine, but Claire gave me a look.

"What?" I asked.

"You shouldn't do that for him."

"And why not?"

"He's never going to grow up and learn. Skipping rent isn't like skipping detention. He isn't going to pay you back."

"Yes he fucking will."

I must have had enough of a growl in my voice because Myles let out a chuckle. I stayed there by the kitchen, sorting the payment on my phone, and he brushed past me, jogging my arm. He probably didn't mean to do it, it was just his typical mannerisms that annoyed me. Call me crazy, but sometimes I thought he was trying to be 'dominant'.

I was smiling to myself and typing a reply to a message from Violet when Myles stopped by me on his way back to the lounge, looking at my face, then my phone.

"That Vi, huh?"

"Yup."

"Still going good, then?"

"Yeah."

He chuckled again. "Man, you're so whipped."

Yeah, Myles was a dick. I really, really didn't like the guy. Claire was annoying, too, but it was mostly because she was snobby and ignorant. Myles was just an outright prick.

It was like he fucking jynxed things, though.

A few days after that, Violet got really moody about something. All I knew was that it happened after some phonecall. She got snappy about it, and wouldn't tell me what the problem was.

I got snappy back.

"For fuck sake, what is your problem?"

"Nothing. Just leave it, David."

"What was the phonecall about?"

Her eyes shot up from her laptop and she gave me a full glare. "I said leave it."

"No. Not when you're being like this. Talk to me."

She was trying to stare me down, but I wasn't fazed by her.

"It was Romain," she finally said.

"Right, okay. And what did he say?"

"He wants me to do some stuff, and I said no, so he started getting pissy at me."

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff."

"Vi."

Her gaze moved back to her laptop screen. "Fucking leave it, David."

I did leave it. And a few hours later she was mostly back to normal, taking out whatever lingered of her bad mood with some pretty rough and amazing sex. But it had bothered me, because it made me realise that she couldn't keep these things from me forever.

At some point, she would have to start talking.

She was hiding things, and they were bothering her. And they were going to keep bothering her. She still didn't fucking trust me, to talk to me about whatever her problems were.

A few days later again, she was scowling at her phone as she typed out a message. I didn't know if it was to Romain, or someone else, but she was obviously super pissed, once again. I was tempted to look through her phone while she slept that night, to see what it was, but I didn't. I didn't want to be that sort of person.

I guess in some strange way I was starting to realise that something was wrong. With her. Cracks in her facade were beginning to show. I wanted to help.

The problem is, it's hard to fix something when you don't know what's broken.

She had to start talking to me.

I hadn't realised my patience was so short.

It was really fucking bothering me. Enough so that Wesley picked up on it. He came into my room while Violet was in the shower, and the look he gave me was an instant warning of the grilling to come.

"What's going on?"

"What?"

"Don't fucking 'what' me, you're like a bad storm the past couple of days. Is it Vi? Is everything okay?"

I leant back in my chair and forced out a sigh. "She won't talk to me."

"About what?"

"About herself. I don't know what it is. There's something going on with her. She just won't open up."

Wesley perched on the end of my bed, scratching at unshaven stubble on his chin. "Mate, you know how many years it took me to tell you some stuff."

I studied him. "Do you know something? 'Cause Wes I fucking swear-"

"No, mate. She hasn't told me shit. But I did warn you about this, way back. Someone like her comes with baggage."

I shook my head. I didn't like the way he phrased that. "What should I do?"

"You're just gonna have to be patient."

"I want to help her."

"I know, like me, huh? Which is why I'm saying, be patient."

I didn't want to be patient, for fuck sake.

As luck would have it, something came along to blow everything up.

I was walking out of my chemistry class, across campus, when I noticed commotion. It reminded me of how kids behaved in school, when there was a fight on the playground. How everyone rushed in crowds like sheep, and usually got there too late to see anything, but hung around the area for ages anyway, asking questions, spreading rumours.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 05



Yes, apparently it was still happening at university.

I followed the flow, towards the campus carpark. Caught a glimpse of two police cars. Oh boy.

The crowd wasn't a terribly compact throng. All in all, not too many people. But still enough. I pushed through to see what was going on.

My heart leapt to my mouth and I froze to the spot. It was Violet. Of course it fucking was. She was moving, shifting and sidestepping, pacing around, as if making sure that the officers couldn't grab her while she was talking to them. They were watching her like hawks, ready to lunge should she make a run for it.

I moved closer, she saw me. Broke away and came over.

"Right here, this is my boyfriend," she said. She reached out, grabbed my right hand with both of hers, and gave my arm a tug, pulling me forwards. "Babe, tell them I only sell weed. I don't do any of the heavier stuff."

She was putting on an act, like a dumb bimbo or something, as if it would help. But it wasn't that. I felt something plastic against my hand.

She was fucking palming me something.

"Madam," one of the officers said. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

I was amazed at how deftly I took what was palmed, hiding it with my fingers, then pushing it into my jacket sleeve once my arm was hanging back at my side.

"Babe," Violet said again.

"She only sells weed," I said.

The officer scoffed and Vi looked around at him. "You see? The day you catch me with some on me, you can give me a slap on the wrist. But until then, fuck off."

"Well, if you've nothing to hide you won't mind us taking you to the station for a search, will you?"

"You can't do that."

"Yes we can."

"Fuck off."

He still hadn't released her wrist and another officer was closing in. "You can come easily, or you can make this harder for yourself."

She threw her head back with a scoff, keeping up the bimbo act. The second officer held her arms behind her and she didn't bother to fight it, letting him push her towards a car.

I just stood there, watching it happen, heart thudding sickeningly in my chest. I stepped forward again.

"Excuse me."

"Don't worry, lad," the first officer said. "If she's got nothin' on her then she'll be out in less than hour."

She climbed co-operatively into the backseat, multiple doors slammed shut, then both cars drove off.

The whole crowd was staring at me. Slowly spreading and dispersing. Murmuring.

I walked away. Out the campus gates, down the street towards my flat. Apparently her 'drug dealer' reputation was catching up with her. I felt like I had to get distance before I checked what she had palmed me, and even tossed a paranoid glance over my shoulder.

I pulled it out of my sleeve - a sealy bag, filled with a white powder. What was it, cocaine?

For fuck sake, Vi.

For fuck sake.

Anger flared up and I didn't even think to try and dispose of it, just shoved it into my pocket. I crossed the road to head for the town centre, for the police station.

I was five minutes away when I received a text - "I'm out now."

"I'm right around the corner," I replied.

"You were right place at the right time."

Yeah, apparently I was. What the fuck would have happened if I hadn't been there?

I saw her up ahead. I was pissed. I wasn't even trying to hide it. "Vi, what the fuck?"

She shook her head, hurrying to cover the remaining distance, and spoke in a low voice. "I got set up, okay? Someone ratted me."

"Who-"

"Someone convinced me to get them some coke, and they must've tipped the police where I'd be to get me caught."

"Who, Vi?"

She gave me a hard look. "Myles."

I can't even explain how I felt. Too many things at once. I was shocked, furious, confused, and yet somehow it just made sense. Because Myles was a dick. It seemed like something he'd do, even if I couldn't explain why.

"Do you still have it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Give it here."

"No, I'll fucking give it to him myself."

I turned and stormed off down the road. I didn't even care if she was following or not, and once I glanced over my shoulder a few minutes later, I saw that she wasn't. Maybe she had to go see someone, clean up some mess that this had caused. I didn't know what she got up to, did I?

The parkour training was kicking in. I had somewhere I wanted to be, so I started to run. Turned off main roads. Hopped fences.

The running should have worked in burning my anger out. I was trying to think rationally about it the whole way. Nothing helped.

Myles was in my view the moment I stepped into the flat, leaning on the back of a sofa, talking to - or arguing with - Claire. He looked around to me, and there was an expression on his face. People have it sometimes, when something has just happened and it's clouding their thoughts, and they're not good at hiding it.

"David-" he started as I moved over.

My fist connected with his face.

Claire let out a short scream. Myles hit the floor. He scrabbled back as I kept stepping forwards. The moment he was on his feet I swung again. He didn't fall over this time. He tried to block my third swing but I broke through it.

"David!" Claire screamed. "Stop!"

I swung again. He staggered back. His nose was already bleeding. "David," he gasped.

Then I fully lost it. A low growl erupted into a roar and I lunged into him. He staggered and tumbled, I grabbed his shirt and threw him onto the nearest sofa. I tried to pin him, he struggled, I threw him into the coffee table with crashing and clattering.

"David!" Claire shrieked.

I punched him over and over, in his stupid fucking face.

There was more shouting. Adrian's voice. Melissa's voice. Amy's voice.

Myles was trying to fight back, trying to defend himself. My fists clenched in the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the coffee table again.

"David!" Adrian yelled. "Fucking stop!"

Then finally Wesley was there. "David," he said with quiet panic. "David."

I glared at Myles, who stared back at me, blood from his nose smeared all over his face. "David," he wheezed.

"Fucking nice one," I growled.

"Man, what?"

"Violet. Setting her up."

His eyes widened. "David, David no-"

I slammed him again.

"David he didn't!" Adrian piped. "He didn't set her up!"

My eyes shot around to him. He backed up as if I'd lunge and swing.

"He was getting coke for the party on Friday," Adrian continued, hurriedly. "He didn't fucking rat her, David."

"I didn't," Myles agreed, voice strained through the pressure of my arms and elbows in his ribs. "I went to the carpark and saw the cops there. It wasn't me. I swear."

"Then who?" I said. "Who else knew?"

"I don't know! I don't know who did it!"

"David," Wesley said. "Please. Stop."

I released Myles and straightened slightly, but still felt the tense weight in my shoulders, ready to lunge again. Myles pushed up on an arm, touched at his bloody nose, then gave me a glare.

"Fuck sake, David." His hand went to my stomach and shoved.

That was all it took to set me off again.

Wesley let out one of his rare cries of anger. "Myles you fucking idiot!"

Myles was once again trying to fight back, it just wasn't working for him. The coffee table almost went flying, because it was in my way. I didn't know how much punishment Myles' body could take before I really broke something.

Wesley wasn't going to let it get that far, desperately diving between us, trying to shove me back.

He was fucking brave.

I didn't think I'd hit Wes, but then, I'd never thought I'd hit Tyler.

There were voices and frantic knocking at the door, and Melissa opened it. Three more guys came in from the flat below, pushing past her. They saw me, all riled up, trying to side-step Wesley who was stepping to follow me, keeping himself in my way, trying to protect the bloody and battered Myles behind him.

"Dude," one of them started. "What the f-"

I knocked past Wesley and scored another hit in Myles' face.

I don't know why I couldn't fucking stop. The other guys were now joining in. Hands gripped at my arms and shoulders, fists in my jacket. They tried to rip me away. I struggled free. I punched one in the jaw, slammed another into the wall, kicked him in the stomach when he doubled over. The first cracked his knuckles across my face, so I hit back even harder again.

"Stop!" Wesley roared. "Don't you fucking get it?! He's got anger problems! You'll make him worse!"

It was completely burning through me. I wasn't even angry. I was unnervingly calm, simply locked in some sort of 'mode'. I wanted to fight. Anger might unlock it, but this, what I was feeling, was something else. I wanted these guys to go for me. I could shatter every jaw in that room. These weren't rough gang kids who had bested me in younger years, they were just average guys. And I was...

What was I?

Everybody backed away from me. I stood there, panting, trembling with adrenaline, slightly in control. That tension was still under the surface. It wasn't going away.

Claire was quietly sobbing. Adrian didn't look much better.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the sealy, and threw it at Myles. "There you fucking go."

It hit his chest and he clumsily caught it. "David it wasn't m-"

"Oh shit," one of the other guys interrupted. "You're Violet's boyfrie-"

The tension came out with another swinging punch before I even knew what I was doing. The guy let out some shocked yelp of laughter and staggered out of my way.

"Idiot!" Wesley barked.

They couldn't understand like Wesley did. They didn't know that the only way to calm me down was a calm environment. Any stimulation would set me off again. I knew it, though. And I was trying to get myself under control. I walked out.

I heard Wesley's footsteps in the stairwell behind me. "David," he called. "You can't fucking do this shit."

I ignored him and disappeared outside, walking straight down the road towards the park. It started to drain out of me, and I was shaking, as if shivering from the cold. I was feeling some pain, on my face, in my shoulder, my knuckles. Maybe I'd taken more hits than I thought.

I went through the park, to the wooded area. Sat myself down at the trunk of a tree. Maybe it was the same tree where Vi had first fucked me.

Shit.

What do I do?

I pulled my phone out and scrolled through my contacts to Dad's number. After a few rings he picked up.

"Son?"

"Are you working, or can you talk?" I didn't even know what time it was. Somewhere around 4pm?

"What's wrong?"

"I've done fucked up."

His tone went flat. "What've you done."

"I beat up a roommate."

"Why."

I swallowed and looked around the trees. "I don't get it, Dad. What is it? I just... I want to fight."

"I know."

"It's like I just want to hurt people. I just want to fight."

"Yes."

"Getting angry sets it off but then, I'm not even angry anymore, and I can't stop."

"What made you angry? What set it off?"

"This roommate. He tried to set up Violet. Tried to get her arrested."

"How?"

"Claiming she was dealing drugs."

"Right. And why did you get so angry if she was innocent?"

It sent something cold through me. Of course, he'd had that week over Christmas to judge her. And he always knew everything about everybody. Always.

"What's she hiding from you?" he continued.

I couldn't handle it. It terrified me. "Dad," I started.

There was silence from his end.

"She knows a weed dealer, so she gets people weed."

"Okay."

"This guy, my roommate, he convinced her to get him cocaine, then told the police where she was going to be meeting with him. So they arrested and searched her."

"Did they find it on her?"

"No. I was in the right place at the right time and she fucking palmed it to me before they took her away."

"Right in front of the police?" He actually laughed. He fucking laughed.

"Yes," I said.

"I hope you don't still have it on you."

"No. Got rid of it."

There was an awkwardly long silence.

"Dad. Please, I just-"

"What?"

"Don't think badly of Violet."

"I'm not."

I wasn't sure if I believed him.

"Son, I think you need to go away and get your head straight over this situation, and call me back."

"The roommate, he might press charges. The landlord might even kick me out if he gets involved, I don't know."

"Then we'll deal with that if it comes to it."

"Okay."

"Calm the fuck down and use your head."

I hung up and sat there, staring at the trees, unmoving, until I was almost freezing. My phone vibrated with another call after however long. Violet.

"David, where are you?"

I grunted.

"I just had Wesley fucking yelling at me down the phone. Apparently you beat up Myles."

"Yeah, I did."

"Oh my God. Why?"

"Why do you fucking think?"

I almost wanted to hang up on her. It was only simmering beneath, but I was still so pissed off.

"This is your fault," I growled.

"I know, look-"

"You've been pissing me off for two weeks now."

"What?"

"Something's been going on with you, something's been bothering you. You won't fucking tell me. Why? Why don't you trust me? Why won't you let me in?"

"David-"

"Then you go about dealing cocaine. What the fuck, Vi? Are you trying to make trouble for yourself?"

"Come to my room, in halls."

"Vi."

"David. Where are you? The park?"

"Yes."

"Come to my room."

She hung up on me. I picked myself up, dusted off, and did as she said. I felt so numb, not just my body from the cold. I almost expected someone to come running outside and start on me in the street when I walked past the flat's building.

Violet was waiting for me on campus. She took my elbow and hurriedly led me through to her room, barely looking at me and not saying anything until we were inside and the door was shut. She placed a hand on my cheek to tilt my head, probably looking for any bruising coming up. She disappeared and re-appeared with a wet flannel to clean the dried blood smears on my hands.

It was all so cold and mechanical, and we were both silent. She finally sat on the bed and after a moment or two I joined her, unzipping my jacket.

"You're stupid," she said.

I scoffed.

"You don't think I can deal with this?" she continued. "You think this is the first time this has happened, or something? I don't need your help."

"Okay. So what would have happened if I wasn't there when the police were?"

"I'd have found some way out of it."

"Like-"

"Because I always do." She gave me a look. "You should have left Myles to me."

"He and Adrian were both adamant that he didn't do it."

"Yeah, well-"

"Violet. You're not okay. Whatever the fuck is going on, you can't deal with this."

Her eyes went hard with anger and she moved away from me. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, and so are you."

"I don't-"

"You've spent all this time telling me how you wouldn't get involved in gangs. How you kept away from it. How you escaped it. So why are you caught up in this world? Why do you know these people?"

I think my questions were the last hammer blow she needed. She didn't break down in some dramatic way, start crying, or pour her heart out. She just went very quiet, and sat at the opposite end of the bed. I waited for her while she blinked at the wall, as if stunned. She drew her knees up to her chest and looped her arms around them.

"I don't want to tell you," she finally said.

"Why?"

"Because you'll think things."

"Just talk to me."

Those blue eyes studied me for a long moment. They were blank, emotionless. "My parents are involved with a cartel. Drugs, money laundering, and simple jobs for cash is how they've got by, all my life."

It hit me. I just didn't react.

"The street gangs," she continued. "They're fucking nothing. Not like the people my parents know. I've met lots of them, I've had to do stuff. My parents used to drag me around with them everywhere, whenever they went out on a job. I saw a lot of things. I saw how it all works. It's so stupid. It's all so, so, fucking stupid."

Her forehead pressed against her arms, face hidden behind her knees. "I don't want anything to do with it. I want it all to leave me alone. It's a complicated world, of favours, of people pretending to get along and waiting for their moment. Apparently I owe some favours, and that's why Romain has been hounding me. He doesn't want to, he's just been told to."

"What favours?"

"I don't know. I don't fucking know. These people, they just won't let me go. They think they own me, they want me to be available for whatever they need. They think I'm still in. They won't take no for an answer."

"What about your parents-"

"They're almost as bad," she snapped. Then took a deep breath. "I don't know. It's not their fault, either. I don't know how they got in, it's just always been there, you know? They've never tried to break out of it, even if they bitch and moan about it all the time. Honestly, I don't think they know anything else. What are they supposed to do?"

I moved closer across the bed. Her head lifted and the knees went down slightly.

"You know," she started. "I think I was thirteen or fourteen when I first, really realised that all this stuff was not normal, that it was bad, and that I should get away from it."

"You're doing pretty well so far."

Her eyes snapped to me, but I wasn't being sarcastic. It was genuine.

"You probably think my parents are awful people," she said. "They're not. They're not bad people. They've always done the best they can for me, they've always kept me safe. I was an accident, I was a burden. My mum got pregnant with me when she was seventeen. I could've been dumped, or something, or I could've-" She cut off again, but continued. "I could've ended up like Wes."

I had shifted across the bed enough that I was beside her. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and she leant into me. There was a long silence. She shifted to pull her phone out, and gave it a little wave in the air.

"All these names in here, all the contacts, they're exactly that. Contacts. Pick a name, any name, and I can tell you what they are, but not who they are."

I wanted to say something, but now I was the one hesistating. I could understand why she'd been the way she was. I was feeling strangely protective, too. Like I was about to betray some sort of trust. But I had to say this. I had to make her see.

"Vi," I said. "My dad used to be involved with a drug gang."

She studied me with a long stare, then her brow furrowed, and she gave her head a slight shake. So I explained to her, told her everything I knew, at least everything he had told me. His beginnings, how he ended up in foster care because of his mother's overdose. How he was tossed around between foster homes, partly because he was difficult and nobody could handle him, and partly because a few of them turned out abusive. Perhaps in response to him and his behaviour. How he'd spent so many years on the streets, and how his involvement with things had been inevitable.

As far as I knew, he'd first been dragged into the cartel when he was 12. And he'd only truly broken free once he was 23. What I didn't know, is what things he'd done during that time, only that Tyler had been involved with it all once they were at college and university together. And his guilt in something that happened with Tyler was the last straw he needed in knowing he had to stop.

"I wonder if it's the same one," I said.

"You know what, it probably is," Violet replied. She was stunned by the whole story. "I'd go and ask if anyone remembers a big dude who goes by Keane, but, I'd really rather not."

I smirked. "Well, he wasn't 'Keane' back then."

"No?"

"He took Mum's name when he married her."

"What, really?"




Hornet's Nest Ch. 05



"Yeah, Keane is all my mum's side."

"Oh, wow."

I brushed hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "He broke out of that world. He got away from it all. He did it, and you can, too."

She smiled. "You believe in me, huh?"

"Why wouldn't I? Just keep doing what you're doing, denying them, or whatever. Don't do whatever they say."

"What about you, fucking idiot. This whole fuck-up with Myles?"

I touched at my brow and screwed my face up for a moment. "Gonna call Wes."

"Mate," his voice said as he picked up. "Where are you?"

"Vi's room in halls. I'm staying here tonight."

"Probably for the best."

"What's going on there, is Myles gonna call the cops on me?"

"No, mate, nah. He's too embarrassed."

We both just snickered, like little kids. When the moment was blown over it was easier to laugh about.

"I've talked to Vi," I said, hoping he'd pick up on all the hints.

"Everything's good?" he asked.


"Yes."

Violet and I laid on her bed talking for a little while longer. She told me one story about what her parents' 'jobs' involved, but no more. I couldn't expect too much at once.

When she was drowsy and laying with her eyes closed, I remembered that I'd called up my dad in an absolute state. Fuck. What was he thinking now? Had he been talking with Mum?

"Everything's ok," I texted him. "Sorry for calling you up like that."

"It's fine," he replied. "I'm glad you did."

Maybe the true weight and possible danger of Violet's situation just didn't sink in to me. Maybe I was so blinded by affection for her that I wouldn't think something bad. She had revealed something large, but as far as I was concerned, nothing changed. It was a separate world - so long as she was with me, she was away from it.

*

It's amazing what people will forgive you for, when they can't be fucked to deal with it.

In one sense, I was lucky that Myles had macho problems. He didn't want to go 'crying to the police like a little bitch', in his own words. I mean, it could've been worse. It wasn't like I'd hospitilized him. He stayed indoors for a couple of days to let bruising go down, calling in sick to class. He was moody with me, but surprisingly cool with it all. If anything, he only seemed frustrated that there'd been some kind of fight, and he'd lost it. I could relate. I'd felt the same upon having my arse handed to me when I was 15.

The strongest thing he appeared to feel about it all was, 'at least I still got the fucking coke'. He'd already paid Vi before the cops showed up.

He was still a prick, and we were never going to be friends, so nothing particularly changed.

For a couple of weeks, Claire wouldn't talk to me. She avoided me, tossing me the rare glance, like I was some neanderthal brute. Eventually, even she went back to normal. I actually missed the silence.

Adrian was a bit timid, and talked about getting his rent sorted.

We didn't find out who had ratted Violet. Both Myles and Adrian tried to ask their 'friends', but it was hopeless. Adrian throught it was some girl Myles had been involved with, but Myles disagreed - he told me he figured out exactly who it was, but couldn't prove it or make them own up. He gave me the name, probably hoping I'd go apeshit and beat up that guy as well.

I wasn't going to. I had rumours to deal with.

Violet was the 'drug dealer', and now I was her 'thug' of a boyfriend, who'd beaten someone up when she got arrested. There were different stories floating about, but the general details stayed the same.

Yeah, reputations. They're fucking great.

I didn't like the looks I got. I hated what had happened. I felt like I'd let my dad down. I'd let myself down.

I guess it was worth it, for Violet. It made her realise that whatever affected her was going to affect me, too. That we were in this together. I was going to be there for her.

*

Violet eventually talked to Wesley. I didn't tell him anything - I waited for her to decide to do it. They were both still in his room when he sent me a subtle text.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," I thumbed with a grin.

She bounced in ten minutes later, throwing herself into my lap, arms around my neck. She pecked my forehead with kisses, down to my cheek, then my mouth.

"Okay," I said in a gap where her lips weren't smothering me. "All good?"

"Yes." She kissed me again. "I love you." And again. "You're awesome. Wes is pretty awesome, too."

He was. University would've been... different, if he hadn't been there.

I thought he was getting along fine, but as usual, he made it hard to know. His behaviour was as erratic as ever. He'd shake his head and slump around, exaggeratedly sighing at things like the world was so impossibly hard. Then he'd be hyperactive and almost crying with laughter, jumping around like life was the best thing since sliced bread.

He got drunk, he got high, he spent stretches entirely sober. Some things never changed - he still liked going out. Friday nights he routinely spent clubbing, and sometimes the best hangover cure was more clubbing the following Saturday. He made friends in the way Wesley does - always having people around to talk to, random high fives down the street, hollered greetings across campus. Social and energetic. He had this pumped up bravado that convinced everyone they wanted to know him.

He brought a few girls back to his room, stayed over theirs' sometimes. One became clingy and he quickly broke it off with her, but was bombarded with angry texts for a week. Then eventually a guy did come into the scene. I caught Wes in the hallway shortly after he left that Saturday morning.

"So?"

Wes pulled a humourously wide-eyed look and shook his head, as if I shouldn't have asked. "Let's just say, that guy knew what he was doing."

"And was it good?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I'm even comfortable with what happened."

"Yeah, we heard you."

"Fuck. Well that's my payback, mate. Heard enough of you. Vi is one thing, but when you get going..."

I chuckled and averted my gaze to the floor. "Yeah, well, she likes to be in charge."

"Does she tie you up?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" He threw his head back with an eruption of laughter. "Fucking hell, Dave."

"This coming from the guy who took it up the arse all night."

He laughed again, shoved me, and disappeared inside his room.

Whatever he was doing was pretty normal. I suppose students and experimentation go hand in hand. I wasn't entirely exempt from it, either. I was just making all my discoveries with the same person.

Violet and I did go clubbing with Wesley a few times, but Violet liked it even less than I did. I could swear she simply had better hearing, better smell, and even better sight, than the average person. Whenever too much was going on around her she became increasingly jumpy and irritated, and just wanted to get out.

Not that she wasn't a thrill seeker. Those clubbing nights usually involved us staying for a couple of hours, then disappearing outside for some 'exercise'. One time she'd had a bit to drink, gotten herself tipsy, and still wanted to do parkour. I struggled between fits of laughter and worrying she'd split her skull open.

We climbed up high and she performed a handstand at the edge of a building's roof, grinning at me with flushed cheeks. I couldn't watch without grabbing hold of her ankle to be sure she wouldn't fall. She did a lot of acrobatics that night, flipping off walls, somersaulting in the air, showing off. And convinced me to join in.

Maybe she also had a better sense of touch than the average person. She was like a fiery ball of passion, and after all the months we'd managed by then, it still felt like she couldn't get enough of me. She'd shove me into bed, straddle me, push me onto my back. I knew what she was like, yet it still gave me butterflies. Her fingers would lock with mine and she'd hold down my arms, kiss me while grinding her body on top of mine. She liked to tease me, ride me slow, bring me close over and over until I lost control and wrestled her down.

I'd have a twinge of guilt during the afterglow sometimes, worrying I might go too far. Closing my hand around her throat to hold her down might be walking a fine line. I left hickies on her, a few accidental bruises. I didn't mean to be so rough, but I only did what she drove me to do. She never told me to stop. Her eyes were never filled with anything but pleasure. I guess I was her bedroom thrill.

---

Violet

The weather was getting warmer, the days were getting longer. David and I turned 19, five days apart, during spring.

"Are you having a joint party?" Wes asked.

David let out a scoff from the flat's sofa, eyes fixed on his phone, replying to birthday messages from family. "It's not like it's a number worth making a deal over."

"Yeah, easy for you to say. I turn twenty in May. Do you know what a shitty number that is? Not a teenager anymore, but it's not twenty-one, either. Complete limbo state."

"Yeah, think you're still gonna get a sports car by twenty-four, and beat Tyler?"

"Shit. I'm running out of time. I need a job."

David chuckled and finally looked up from his phone. "Good luck."

"Mate, I'm gonna get everything straight this summer. I'm gonna get my license, and I'm gonna get a job. Even if it's just flipping burgers, I'm getting a job."

"You need to stop wasting money on weed and start saving."

"I'm already cutting down."

Wesley wasn't cutting down on the weed for his own interests. He was doing it to limit his contact with Romain. It was for me, partly, but it wasn't entirely selfless. When Romain couldn't get hold of me, he'd started asking Wesley my whereabouts, how I was doing. Wes didn't want any chance - or any risk - of being drawn in. To anything. I should've been flattered that he chose being friends with me over getting stoned.

I was his brother's girlfriend, and that made me family to him. He'd become more and more accepting of my presence, until he might've been the loudest and most adamant about the fact that I was going home with them for summer.

David was equally verbal about it. I wasn't really given a choice in the matter.

It did make most sense, after all. It's not like David was telling me not to see my parents, but he was scared what might happen to me if I went back to 'that environment', 'those people'. And it's not like we wanted to spend weeks apart, either. We might as well have been joined at the hip.

I wasn't looking at longterm solutions. I was thinking about the now. And honestly, all that meant was settling into the new lifestyle I found myself in.

I had a lot of work, I had a lot of typical student things, but I also had David. He wanted to look after me, and after all his tireless insistence I finally relaxed, and let him. I'm not even sure if 'stubborn' was a good word to describe him, and how he was. Maybe 'overpowering' was more fitting.

I'd thought he was naive, and innocent, and clueless. I'd thought he couldn't possibly understand the cold truths of my childhood. But he wasn't as sheltered as I'd thought. I'd also come to realise that he didn't have to be rougher and tougher than me. He didn't have to fight the world I'd come from, to 'save' me from it. The fighting was my own. All he had to do was give me a way out.

Somewhere, at the back of my mind, this had all been my plan, of course. I'd come to university looking for more than just an education. I'd come looking for that escape.

Find a rich boyfriend. What a potentially easy and flawless plan. And yet in the cold calculations in my mind, I'd somehow glossed over a key detail. That I was going to care about this person. That I was going to fall in love.

What had the previous me been thinking? That I was just going to put up with some rich dickhead, and try to ride off it, and live the high life? Be some token wife?

I wasn't even passive - or disciplined - enough to pull that off.

David put up with me. All of me. And I was fortunate that he did. He somehow treated me like the most precious thing in the world, while still being so brash and blunt to call me out every time I was an idiot. If someone had ever openly insulted and heartily complimented me in the same sentence, it was David. Maybe Wesley got close, but he lacked in the compliments department.

*

The plastic money fascinated me. I watched David's card slot and swipe away, paying for everything with the punch of numbers on a pad. Invisible payments. Electronic numbers. How did the money actually exist? At one point I forced him to an ATM just so he'd withdraw something physical, so I could see him hold some real money in his hands.

Everyone I knew while growing up mainly dealt in cash. Ideally, cash was harder to trace. More anonymous. That debit card just highlighted David's stark contrast to me. His name was on everything he did, and he had no reason to worry about it. Didn't even think about it.

He wasn't a massive spender, and his money wasn't limitless, but he did like to put it to periodic use. We ate out at cafes and restaurants a few times, and he bought me a few things, including a new summer-friendly jacket, and some new boots. I spotted them, and liked them. He offered to buy long before I asked.

We didn't initially go out shopping for me, though. He started complaining about clothes not fitting.

It's not that he'd gotten taller. He'd gotten wider. And I'm not saying he'd put on weight. Well, he had. It was muscle. It'd slowly built up and it was hard to see the gradual difference without something to compare, but from my own memory, I guess it was visible. Everything looked a little more defined.

"Vi, you've ruined my fucking life," he said. "I'm in between sizes now. Oh my God. Do you know how much I hated finding clothes already?"

I didn't see the big deal. A few t-shirts were tighter around the shoulders and chest, but he was uncomfortable with it.

I threw a white tank top at him. "Start showing yourself off. Weather's good for it."

He looked at me like I'd just called him a piece of meat. "That's really gay."

"Your uncles will be proud."

He guffawed and threw the tank top back in my face.

"Or better yet, just go topless."

"I'll look like a total douchebag."

"No, you'll look hot. If you got it, flaunt it."

"Jesus Christ." He took the top from my hands, hung it up on the rack, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me out. He tugged me through the shopping mall, straight to a Victoria's Secret.

"Oh no," I said. "No, no."

He started pushing me inside. "Yes."

I struggled, shoes sliding on the floor. "They won't have anything my size!" Bra shopping had never been easy.

"With all the size zero models? Sure they do."

"Oh my God. What's the point of buying something if it's just going to come off anyways?"

"It'll look hot for those ten seconds that it's on."

"Oh God!"

Laughing makes it really hard to fight back. We were receiving some funny looks. I mean, a boyfriend was dragging his girlfriend kicking and screaming into a lingerie shop.

*

It was a matter of weeks until the first year of university was over. By June all classes would be finished until September. There was still some ongoing work, projects being reviewed and sent back to tweak before re-submitting, but we had no reason to stay around the campus premises. Which was why David and Wesley wanted to go home as early as possible.

David was utterly exhausted while things came to their close. He sat in his chair, head down on his desk, and didn't move for fifteen minutes while I restlessly paced the flat building's stairwell during a phonecall to my mum. We were having the first heat wave of the incoming summer, and although the forecast said it would be over by tomorrow, David still grumbled and complained.

I stopped in the kitchen on my way back to his room for a glass of cold water. Upon seeing him in the exact same position I'd left him in, I poured it down the back of his neck. He jolted with a comical yelp, his elbow narrowly missing my face.

"Fucking hell, Vi!"

"Are we running tonight?"

He slumped again. "I will die. I will literally die."

"Your poor baby." I leant on his shoulders and nuzzled my nose into his hair.

"Just think," he mumbled. "This first year is all foundation stuff. What the fuck's it gonna be like after summer?"

"Worse?"

"One more year. Then I can drop chemistry."

"Mm-hm." I kissed his ear, then his cheek, and he let out one of his affectionate grunts. I'd discovered he had a wide range of conversational grunts, from 'fuck off', to 'I love you'.

"You spoke to your mum?" he asked.

"Yep."

He sat up. "Everything's good?"

"Yep."

Mum's reaction had certainly been positive, maybe even funny - "Get in there, girl." She approved of what I was doing, but Dad was a little more apprehensive about letting me out of his sight. Seeing me off to university was one thing, and now I was gallivanting around with this mysterious, rich boyfriend. It had always been like that. If I fell, Mum told me to climb better. Dad wanted to be there with a cushion for the next time.

"Are you sure it's all okay?" I asked David.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I'm just, like, a stranger, living in your house the whole summer."

"You're not a stranger." He got to his feet and peeled off the wet shirt sticking to his back.

I perched on the bed and gave him one of my smiles.

"No," he said.

"Yes."

"It's too hot."

"Are you gonna be like this all summer?"

"No, it's just..."

I gave a little fidget, straps of my bra and tank top slipping off my shoulder. There was a brief flicker in his expression, but he contained himself.

"I'm going to have a cold shower. You're welcome to join me."

He could return it on me just as much, with the subtle, enticing flex of his shoulders, the smirk and twitch in his brow. Fuck sake.

---



Hornet's Nest Ch. 06



---

Violet

I was going to see what David's life was like. What it really was like, not just how he behaved at university surrounded by other students. Last time I was there, I only got a glimpse.

We didn't take a train that time. Amelia was in a nearby town for something to do with work, so late afternoon she arrived with Zack's car to pick us up. She was dressed in a navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, relatively low heels clicking the floor, hair tied up high atop her head. Wherever she had been, appearances must have mattered. Our suitcases, and a few other boxed things, were packed up and loaded in.

The first amusing thing of that 'holiday' happened when David, out of nowhere, asked, "Can I drive?"

Amelia looked at him for a moment with her brows raised, then handed him the keys and got into the passenger side. Wesley clambered into the back beside me.

"How rusty are you?" Amelia asked.

"Very," David replied. He started the engine and left it chugging away while he fidgeted around with the seat and mirrors. He gave a nonchalant, leftwards glance before lifting the handbrake and turning out of the parking space into the road.

He braked sharply when Amelia scoffed and gave his shoulder a back-handed slap. He frowned at her and made a point of looking out the rear window before continuing his turn into the empty street.

"Do you want to be marked on performance?" she asked.

"No, Mum. Please don't."

She did it anyways, and they bickered the whole drive while Wesley chuckled away. She scolded him every time he was in the wrong gear, and leant across to flick on the indicator when he didn't do it himself, hazardously switching lanes on the motorway.

"Are you even looking, David?"

He chuckled. "Mum."

"What if a motorbike comes shooting up here a hundred-and-fifty miles an hour?"

"They shouldn't be going that fast."

"Yes, but you still shouldn't hit them."

"It's true," I said, leaning against the back of David's seat. My mum always liked to complain about ignorant car drivers.

"Listen to the women, Dave," Wesley chipped.

He let out another chuckle of defeat, and carefully checked the mirrors and indicated that time, moving across the lanes for a junction.

Amelia looked around and gave me a grin. "Sorry. You must think I'm so strict. I'm just doing my part to make sure there's no more crashes in this family."

"Had some, then?"

"A couple."

"Yeah," David said. "Tyler totaled his car when I was, like... what was I? Five or six?"

"Yes," Amelia said.

"And Darren totaled a Lamborghini before I was born."

"Wow," I said.

"Yes," Amelia agreed. "Wow."

"Tyler also had that accident a few years back," Wesley added.

"Yes, but that wasn't his fault," Amelia replied. "A big car," she looked at David, "very much like this one, went right into the back of him."

David scoffed at her accusing tone. "Then that crash where he nearly died wasn't his fault either."

"He was still speeding."

"Tell it to Wes. Says he's finally gonna get his license this summer."

Amelia swiveled and looked over her seat at him. "You're going to have a crash."

"What?" Welsey yelped, and erupted with incredulous laughter. "Holy shit! I will if you fucking go jynxing me!"

"If Tyler's your idol of course you're going to crash."

"Fuck off, Mum. I might like how sports cars look, all right, but Dave's the speed freak."

Amelia sighed in agreement. David was focusing on the road and only offered one of his goofy grins in response.

We were right on time to catch some rush-hour traffic when we reached their home town. Everything crawled for a stretch, but we arrived at the house by 6pm sharp. The front door opened to an interior that already smelt like dinner was cooking.

Things were lugged and carried upstairs while a tottering Hanna got in the way, then we moved through to the lounge.

I felt different looking at Zack, knowing what I knew. He seemed quite at home in his shirt and trousers, this nice big house, being the father figure of this family. But it wasn't always that way, was it? I was trying to picture him as a child, as a teenager. What had he done, what had they made him do? I knew how it was. Anything similar to my parents? How many dead bodies had he seen? Made any himself?

He knew my eyes were lingering on him, and looked around. I desperately wanted to avert my gaze, but found myself stuck, like I was caught red-handed. We shared what seemed too long of a cold stare. His expression was dark, but empty. My heartrate involuntarily picked up, a similar reaction to knowing someone was about to start on me, not the happy fluttering David gave me.

We probably both felt like whoever looked away first was the loser.

Zack lost, because Wesley spoke to him and drew his gaze.

"Dad."

"What?"

"I love you."

Wesley seized him in enough of a boisterous hug to make him stagger, and the dark expression cracked into a grin.

Apparently, dinner was Wesley's favourite.

*

The first two weeks were spent lazing around. David wanted time to relax and unwind, even if I started to get a little bored and restless after ten days of it. He slept, woke up, made love to me, ate, then slept again. I spent quite a lot of time on his computer playing various games, and asked if he had a porn collection I could look through, for potential inspiration. He told me to check his favourites. Mostly lesbian stuff. Boring.

Wesley wasn't anywhere near as inactive, getting up early every morning and keeping to whatever it was that he decided he would do. He liked to knock on David's door somewhere around 8am every day.

"Rise and shine, bitches!"

It wasn't always enough to wake me, but David hollering profanities back was.

When Wesley was out, Hanna was at school, and his parents were at work, we had the house to ourselves for a chunk of the day. We didn't quite walk around naked, but still, it was one of the most strangely relaxing and intimate situations I'd experienced. That household could be so loud when everyone was there, and eerily quiet when they were gone. I suppose it was a bit like a glimpse into the future. Was this what it would be like? I'd be successful, and live in a nice big house, and marry David?

I made sure to explore every corner of that house. I felt like a little kid again, sitting on the carpet in a warm ray of early summer sunshine, looking through a cabinet full of glassware. David would sometimes come looking for me, find me, call me terrible, then leave me to it.

Everything was interesting.

I had just enough respect to leave Amelia and Zack's bedroom alone, but I decided to wind up Wesley, and gave him a running commentary about the interior of his room through a series of texts.

"Bitch get out," was his response.

"Make me."

What I hadn't known, was that he was down the road, ten minutes away from the house. I heard the front door opening and somehow knew it was him, and tried to flee the scene of the crime. He came rushing up the stairs, three steps at a time with his lanky legs, and collided with me on the landing, knocking me clean to the floor.

I was laughing too much to do anything about it. I curled into a ball and hoped he wouldn't hurt me.

"What have you done?" he said, quickly getting to his feet. "What did you touch?"

David's room door opened. "Wes, what the fuck?"

"Vi," Wesley called, from now inside his room. "Did you move anything? You don't get it, everything has to stay right where I left it, or I lose everything!"

I leant against the doorframe and watched in amusement. I'd switched his socks and underwear drawers around. He took a moment to realise, going between them again, before bursting into laughter and throwing a scrunched sock at me. Which hit me right in the forehead.

"Dave," he scolded. "She's fucking bored. Entertain her, take her for walks. She's gonna be chewing up the sofa next."

"Or I can get a crate and lock her in it," David replied.

I growled at him. It came out surprisingly throaty and feral, and must have been the funniest thing ever because they both laughed like it was. David cupped my cheek and kissed me.

He perked up a little after that. Wesley didn't knock the following morning, but I awoke quite early by myself. David still appeared unconscious, his back to me. I spooned him and raked my fingers through the hair on his chest until he stirred, and grumbled something incoherent.

I kissed his shoulder. "Wake up."

"Hhffgrm."

"Is that so?"

His hand lifted to his face and rubbed his eyes, then he rolled onto his back. "I love you."

"Okay. That's nice, but I want you to wake up."

He grinned while his eyes stayed shut. He was a cuddly teddy bear when he was drowsy. I stroked my hand up and down his chest and stomach, waiting for a response from him. Nothing.

"Has this year really been so exhausting?"

He grunted, fidgeted a bit more. "It's been... intense."

"Mm-hm?"

"Mentally, physically. Emotionally." His eyes finally opened and regarded me with an affectionate smile.

I smiled back. "You're a lazy cunt."

He chuckled and stretched with one of his rumbling growls.

"I'm going down town today," I continued. "And if you're not taking me I'll find my own way."

"Okay."

He did get out of bed, and shortly after we hit the streets. When the sun is high, when the weather is warm, I'm at my best. I like things bright and bold. I think I'm like a plant. I photosynthesise. I can have the worst possible day, but the dappled shadows of sunlight through the green leaves of trees can always pick me up.

I also liked how David looked when he wasn't padded out in winter clothes. His hair had grown out, to an extent, and it didn't seem to know what to do with itself, falling in chaotic tufts over his forehead, framing his temples, some bits tucking behind his ears. It was a bit like his beard. He made scruffy look good.

We did end up climbing around in some back alleys. It was like a fever, and I'd successfully passed it to David. When you know you can do something, you see no reason not to do it. When you've broken down the walls and psychological barriers that tell you 'no', nothing stops you. And when you've escaped consequence numerous times, like me, you develop this unwavering confidence in yourself, that you can get out of anything.

I revelled in whatever sensations of freedom I could get.

*

Wesley received a phonecall during a Saturday dinner. He scraped his chair back while frowning at the screen, and walked out to the lounge to take it. Everyone fell silent to eavesdrop.

"Uh-huh... Yes... Okay, that's great... Yes, thank you." He came back in with a little jump and massive grin. "I got an interview!"

"For what?" Zack asked.

"Waiter."

"So that's why you plucked your eyebrows?"

"Really, Dad? Gonna pull that shit on me?"

"Well if looking good gets you the job, am I right?"

"The manager is a woman, I'll have you know."

Both David and Amelia cracked up, and Hanna giggled. I was never sure if she caught on to the jokes, or only laughed because everyone else did.

"What about you?" Amelia asked, looking straight at David.

He looked back with a mouthful of food and spoke through it. "What?"

"Any plans to actually do something productive?"

"Oh, fuck off."

She let out another tinkle of laughter.

"I have a guest to entertain," David continued.

"Well, you can always come down to the complex and make yourself useful. Good work experience."

David grinned. "It doesn't count, Mum. What do I put on my CV? That I made coffee for my mother in her office?"

She sighed at him as if it was a conversation they'd had before. "Maybe Vi would like to see it?"

I was glad she seemed to read my mind. I still found myself being very quiet, never voicing opinions, perhaps out of the concern that I'd say something wrong. I wouldn't know what was wrong to say until I said it, and that was the problem.

If I burned with intense curiosity over a simple house, I hope it's understandable what an entire company complex did to me.

That Monday we were up early, taking a lift with Zack while Amelia took Hanna to school. The complex was out the edges of town, as if eating up its own acres of countryside.

It wasn't so enormous. In fact, it was unassuming, the type of thing people would pass by and not think twice about. It wasn't plastered with logos of the company's name, there didn't look to be any information at all. It simply looked three generic office buildings. With somewhat of a labyrinth of car parks.

There wasn't an overwhelming amount of security either, but some subconscious part of me was trained to look for it. There were gates to get through with the car. The grounds were subtly fenced in. Zack steered through with easy familiarity, ending up at whatever his 'space' was beside a certain building.

David looked over the passenger seat with a grin, probably trying to determine my reactions. I smiled back with a shrug.

"It's actually a bit bigger than it looks," he said. "The labs are all underground."

I undid my seatbelt and reached for the door, but Zack opened it from the outside before my hand touched the handle. I wasn't sure whether it was a friendly gesture, or domineering. As usual, there was nothing to his expression to give it away.

I quietly burned with excitement while I followed them across the carpark. We were relatively early, so there were some keys into doors, then further inside there were electric locks. Shouldn't have been surprised at the techy feel for what was, in all basic forms, a tech company. We took corridors, one flight of stairs, then a lift. Zack's office was on the top floor of the building, as if in appropriate hierarchy.

It was open, spacious, with a nice overlooking view of greenery outside. And very tidy. Not even in the manner of someone who was naturally tidy, but of someone who made the effort to ensure everything was kept in the right place at all times. Maybe that was where Wesley got it from.

Zack retrieved something for David from a drawer - some kind of ID tag, and some keys. Both went into his pocket. Zack crossed his arms to lean against his desk and we stood there, chatting, in a three-way conversation. David and Zack discussed the layout of the complex, and Zack kept asking me questions. Suddenly we were talking about my parents.

David didn't react in the slightest as I spouted my bullshit 'sales' story again. Just as well, because I was supposed to be good at this sort of thing, and I was struggling. I threaded in a lot of truth, as if it would ease my burden, legitimately talking about the towns we had moved between, and I successfully shifted the conversation onto that. It was difficult to say what I wanted to say. I couldn't look at Zack without thinking things, getting distracted by my brain trying to draw lines between dots.

I wanted to ask Zack about the cartel so badly the curiosity was almost physically painful.

The door opened at some point, and Darren came in. His eyebrows rose and he gave a pleasant smile, gaze darting between us. "Making yourself useful, are you?"

David grinned back. "Mum happened."

"Of course. Where's your suit?"

It was quite a stark contrast, those two in their smart suits, David and I in our jeans and hoodies.

David only chuckled. "I'm not on an internship."

"Are you sure?" Darren continued.

"Not unless you're paying me. Fucking slave labour."

Even Zack finally cracked a smile, and Darren leant against the desk beside him. There was even more chatter. Holy shit, these men could talk for days. I just wanted to get out and explore.

The office phone rang which finally broke things up. Zack answered it and was quite curt with whoever was on the other end. He thudded it back to the receiver and Darren straightened like he was about to leave.

"McMillan," he said to Zack, in a tone that suggested the one word was supposed to say ten.

"What now?"

"It's McMillan, what do you think? Will you call him for me today?"

Zack gave him such a jaded look it almost reminded me of when someone told my father there was a body. "Have you emailed me a script?"

"Oh, Zack, use your imagination."

David chuckled and Darren smirked, but Zack sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh, like Mondays were just the worst. Darren took his leave and David headed for the door as well.

"Catch you later, Dad."

Zack grunted. "Don't get into trouble."

I trotted behind David into the corridor. "Who's McMillan?"

"I don't know, some longterm client. First he argued with Mum, then he argued with Dad, then he argued with Darren. They always try to pawn him off on each other whenever they have to deal with him." He took my hand. "Come on, I'm gonna give you a tour."

"Are you allowed everywhere?"

"Sort of. A lot of people here know who I am."

I felt so out of place, and I didn't even care. I was some guest, in this strange new environment, and completely free to explore.

David was the best tour guide ever. "Over here they do stuff, and over here they do more stuff."

"Wow, you know your shit, don't you?"

The whole complex wasn't only offices, and we had to reach something more interesting eventually. We passed corridors through the levels, passed rooms designed for slightly different purposes. David always chose stairs over lifts. He explained how one building was for 'internal', and one was for 'external'. I didn't exactly understand but I nodded anyway.

We went outside and across a carpark to reach the third building, right at the back of the complex. It looked just as unassuming as the others, but David seemed more in a hurry for this one. We passed out of the sunshine into a chilly shadow, straight up to a pair of thick, double glass doors. They almost looked as though you were supposed to push through them, but David stopped at a number pad and punched something in. The doors didn't open outwards or inwards, they slid aside.

Something about the interior seemed quiet, almost peaceful. There weren't all the subtle noises of knowing people were in every room we passed. David led me along, perfectly certain of where he was going. Once again we went to the top floor. He stopped at a door along a spacious corridor, slamming down the handle and shoving it open without knocking.

"Tyler."

The figure in the chair jumped. "Jesus, kid."

Tyler removed glasses from his face and briefly rubbed his eyes. A white lab coat was draped over the back of his chair. I tried to see what was on the computer screen - emails, or something. Not very interesting.

"Why are you here?" Tyler continued.

"Being useful," David replied.

"Okay, you know how I like my coffee."

"Fuck off." David leant on his desk. "Can we see the labs?"

Tyler gave a smug smirk and sat back in his chair. They stared at each other for a second. David couldn't keep a straight face.

"You're a prick, Tyler."

"Coffee, then labs."

"Or I can cut off your hand."

"Good luck with that."

David chuckled and headed out. Tyler flashed me a grin, then the glasses went back on as he returned to the screen.

There was a room further down the corridor, a sitting area filled with sofas, and it had kitchen facilities. David made three mugs of coffee, differently for each of us, and raided a cupboard for biscuits. This place was like some second home to him.

There was more talking in Tyler's office. He wanted to finish whatever email he was typing up, which was fair enough, but David wouldn't shut up and kept distracting him and made it take twice as long.

"It's boring at the moment," Tyler said. "There's nothing going on."

David frowned "Why?"

"Project finished, and we're waiting on your mother for the next one."

"What about the military stuff? Classified?"




Hornet's Nest Ch. 06



"So fucking secret," Tyler agreed.

We weren't allowed beyond the first level of the labs. The rest was off limits. David tried hard to persuade, but Tyler wouldn't budge.

"Kid, everything is need-to-know basis. You're not running amok down there."

Tyler eventually rose from his chair, slinging his lab coat over his shirt and jeans, glasses hooked into the front pocket. Fucking finally. He led us through to the ground floor and I felt like a child, controlling my walking speed so I didn't race ahead. He keyed open a door, then we took a flight of stairs down. The next thing we faced was a solid metal blockade.

Fucking fingerprint scans. Tyler thumbed his way through it and we moved along a corridor to another, identical door. It led to an open area with more doors leading off, and a lift. We took that down.

The labs were a contrast to the peaceful offices above - high-ceiling, hard floor rooms, where every sound seemed to carry and echo. It was far more populated.

Tyler pointed some things out to me as we passed, and we went through another door to another room, bright with artificial lighting.

"And here are the fucking interns," Tyler said.

A group of five were pissing around, making noise. They were a bit older than myself and David, but couldn't have been beyond their early twenties. One guy was clinging to a wheely chair while the others shoved him across the floor. They spotted Tyler stalking over and instead of stopping, shoved their friend towards him.

Tyler caught the chair and shoved it back. It caught on the edge of a desk with a ringing crack of plastic. The guy tumbled off onto the floor, punctuated by howls of laughter.

"As fucking productive as always," Tyler said.

The intern grinned and got to his feet. "Sorry, Mister Sörensen."

"They're fourth years from the local university," Tyler continued, giving me a glance. "Get dumped on us every spring." The group stood to attention, as if proving they could be perfectly behaved and presentable. Was I that worth impressing?

"Yes, sir," the chair guy confirmed.

"And what days are you here?"

"Mondays and Wednesdays, sir."

"Worst days of the week," Tyler agreed.

There was an eruption of more chuckling, from all of them.

"This is my nephew," Tyler said, gesturing to David. "And this is, erm, what are you? Like my niece?"

"Err," I replied, unhelpfully.

"Yeah, she doesn't talk," Tyler said, and there was more chuckling.

"I talk if I have something to say," I quipped, and he grinned, encouraging me to banter with him.

"Oh really?"

David snorted. "If she's not talking to you it means you're boring, Tyler."

Tyler's eyebrows shot up and there were more intern snickers. "This kid," he jabbed a thumb at David, "Keane's son. Can you tell?"

It devolved into slightly duller 'family' talk, and even Tyler didn't seem to want to have that conversation. His clowning demeanour switched to authority. He saw them set to a task, before leading us away to continue with the 'tour'.

"They really think you and Mum are brother and sister, huh?" David asked.

"You'd be surprised how many people think it, kid. But it doesn't go well with the idea that Lia and Darren are cousins."

"Oh, wow," I said.

"You sicko, Tyler," David agreed.

Tyler yelped with laughter, passing through into a corridor. He walked right into a tall, but mousy woman, an ungainly collision of lab coats. She tutted at him, but brightened the moment she looked past him at David.

"Oh, it's little Zack!"

She threw her arms around him and David cringed.

"Hi, Jenny."

She moved to me and offered a handshake before even being introduced.

"This is Violet, my girlfriend," David said while she vigorously shook my hand.

"Hi," I offered.

She looked back to David. "How's uni?"

"Well, erm-"

"Can't you ask some other time?" Tyler interrupted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you so busy?"

"Well what the fuck have you been doing all morning? Go and sort the interns."

She tutted again, but scuttled off.

The first level of the labs was disappointingly small, and we'd seen it all too quickly. It was Jenny who used her fingerprints to get us back to the surface, as Tyler disappeared down to the lower levels to actually do some work. We stopped off at Amelia's office in that building to say hello. She gave a beaming smile, but was on the phone, so we didn't stay.

With the excitement of the labs over, David filled in the gaps by showing me whatever he had left out. At midday we went to the complex's canteen for lunch. David picked a specific table, and by then I knew to follow his lead. Zack appeared shortly after and joined us, then Darren, then Amelia. Tyler never showed up. Darren briefly checked his watch, before leaving to take some food down to him in the labs. How cute.

Our table gradually became crowded. David was a magnet for attention. All these middle-aged people wandered over like he was some celebrity, asking him about his life, about university, and about me.

We talked about how we'd met in physics, which apparently made a delightful conversation and everybody approved of it. We didn't go into too much detail, but we did mention the staring match we'd had across the classroom before David finally got the guts to approach me. And I pointed out that when I'd sat next to him before that, he'd ignored me, which had him reddening at the ears and Amelia cackling with laughter.

The way I was treated was... new. As if these people didn't see me as some dirty, druggy teenager. As if they presumed I came from a well-off background because of my university position. And perhaps the most fascinating was how they treated me as though, because I was taking physics, I was clearly an intellectual individual.

I think it sank in and gave me a confidence boost.

You know what? I was pretty smart. I'd worked damn hard and turned a lost cause of my school situation around. I'd gotten into university all by myself. And so far, my university grades were pretty damn good.

At some point I had to shake off this idea that I was an under-achiever.

I thought these business people would just be snobby, or something, but they radiated with refreshing attitudes. One man started off into a spiel about 'setting your sights on the horizon and working towards it whatever the cost'. David gave a playful roll of his eyes as if it was all something he'd heard before, but I found myself listening quite closely.

In the environments I'd grown up in, all anyone did was trash talk their lot in life. All they seemed to do was find some way to undermine society, some way to cheat people to survive, as if it was their vengeance. They were bitter, and spiteful. Some might have had good reason to be that way, but those attitudes were so ingrained into me that hearing something so optimistic was unusual.

All the ideas that I thought were crazy weren't so unattainable. I could do this. And apparently by the smiles he gave me, David thought I could, too.

"I think lunch hour ended fifteen minutes ago," Zack said, which drew chuckles from the circle of people around our table.

"Don't fire me, sir."

Zack always looked so calm and comfortable, confident in himself and his surroundings, like his voice carried the weight of the world. The only one who didn't give a shit was Amelia. She leant over and grabbed his face in her hands, smooching him like talking about the successes of their son had filled her with a burst of affection she couldn't contain. For the briefest second he looked smitten by it, before his usual demeanour returned.

"Mum, please," David said.

More chuckles. So many cheerful people. I guess they had life good, didn't they?

"Come with me," Zack said to us. "I have a job for you."

"Oh God."

We followed him back to his office, where he gave David more keys and some instructions. "Delivery's due in ten minutes, better hurry."

"Ugh," was David's enthusiastic reply.

We spent over an hour in one of the carparks near the labs, overseeing the unloading of a lorry into some storage annex. David got so bored with it - not really caring for the banter between the workers or their leisurely pace - that he ended up helping with the lifting and carrying of boxes.

Somewhere around 14:30 his phone rang - Amelia asking if we wanted to take her car to pick up Hanna from school. So we went up to her office to collect the keys, then back out to the carpark to locate her Civic. David chuckled something about his mum having such short legs while he pushed the seat back.

We were stopped as we approached a gate to leave the grounds. Perhaps because the man recognised the car, but not the driver. David wound down the window, quite unoffended, and showed that ID card he'd had in his pocket for the first time.

"Sorry, Keane," the guard said with a respectful nod of his head.

I wondered why David needed the ID, why they couldn't simply recognise his identical features to Zack. Then again, they couldn't be judging everyone who came in and out by black hair and tawny skin.

I watched him driving during a short silence, staring at the profile of his face until it made him uncomfortable. He looked at me, looked away, then glanced again, before cracking up.

"What?"

I had a pang of nostalgia. It reminded me of those early days in physics. He was so damn adorable.

"Nothing," I replied. "I don't know. Just you."

"Just me? What about me?"

"Dunno."

His left hand left the wheel to squeeze my thigh.

There was more to it, but I couldn't put my feelings into words. I felt a contradictory mix of being normal, and special at the same time.

I'd just spent another day where people were intrigued by my existence, instead of seeing me as some dirt beneath their shoe.

*

We went back to the complex many more times, as Amelia found plenty of jobs for us to do. Sometimes we worked in a pair, sometimes we were split up.

I found myself alone in the labs, where Tyler directed me to a mess of wires and gave me a box of twist ties.

"Organise them all by colour."

"Oh my God."

He patted me on the head. "Have fun."

David was right - he was a prick. So why was it impossible to hate him?

Zack dumped three heavy binders full of papers in my arms, and sent me to deliver them to a conference room somewhere. I was baffled.

"Why isn't this all on a memory stick?"

"We have some old farts here," he replied, with a hand on my shoulder to direct me towards the door. "And they still prefer paper."

Finding that conference room was a mission in of itself. I think I located it because I clued in that I was looking for a grey-haired person within.

Amelia took me with her to a room, so I could act as clerk to a meeting. It wasn't a formal meeting that actually required one, or there was no way I could have been qualified, it was simply to provide the experience for me. I felt like she was my uni professor as I handed her the typed report at the end. She complimented me, though. All that note-taking at university was good for something.

Perhaps what got me most nervous was when I was sent to Darren, alone, because David was sent to Zack. Amelia ushered me off in a rush.

"Hectic day," she said. "He will appreciate any help, trust me."

I had trouble separating Darren from his business persona. He always seemed busy, pre-occupied, with this lingering aura that said he'd be angry, very fast, if you wasted his time. It's not like he'd ever treated me in an unfriendly manner. It's not like I hadn't seen him laugh or smile. I'm not sure what my problem was. Maybe I just reacted badly to anyone who radiated authority.

I knocked on his office door somewhere around mid-morning, and the deep voice called for me to come in.

"Err, I'm supposed to be your assistant for the day," I said.

He chuckled and beckoned for me to come closer, then gestured to a chair opposite his desk.

If Zack's office was tidy, Darren's was at the opposite end of the spectrum. Things just looked as though they'd been put in random places and forgotten about, until it grew daringly close to clutter.

"I hope you won't be offended if I have you doing menial jobs," he said.

"Of course. What do you want, coffee?"

He chuckled again, looked at his computer screen, and rubbed his brow. "I wish I could say it's not always this chaotic, but this is normal."

I hadn't noticed anything wrong, anywhere, despite what Amelia had also said. "There's chaos?"

"If there's one thing you should learn about the business world, Violet, it's that nobody actually knows what they're doing. They just pretend they do."

"Including you?"

That might've been a bit ballsy, but he looked right into my eyes with one of his smiles. "Especially me."

His fingers pattered on his keyboard and I watched the movement, the silver and gold colours on his left hand, before turning my attention to the room. There wasn't a single personal thing within - no photos of family, no ornaments or decorations. Just a bland work space.

"Coffee would be nice," he said into the awkward silence.

I quickly got to my feet. "Okay." It was only once I'd reached the nearby kitchen facilities that I realised I had no idea how he liked it.

"How does boss like coffee," I texted David.

"Black, 2 sugars," he replied, thankfully fast.

"Cheers."

"He won't talk unless you ask things," he replied again, as if he just knew there would be absolutely no flowing conversation in that office.

"Like what," I thumbed while I searched for the sugar.

"He likes cars and he likes Tyler. Easy."

"Ok Mr expert."

I knew next to nothing about cars, and I was sure if I tried to ask questions about their marriage I'd say something offensive. Darren was on the phone anyway when I got back to his office. It ended shortly after and he took the mug from me with a cocked brow.

"I didn't tell you how to make it."

"I asked David."

"Initiative. Fantastic. You're smarter than half the people I deal with on a regular basis." His eyes smiled at me over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. "Incompetence," he said. "Everywhere."

"Including you?"

He nearly spat out his second sip and the chuckle was one of those bouncing ones. "Sadly."

Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

His phone rang again, then the office phone, then his work phone a third time. He got fed up with whoever it was, telling them to call back when they 'actually knew'. He had just sat down and was starting to say something to me when the door burst open and Zack came in, David in tow.

David headed straight over to me, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pecking my cheek, while his father and uncle engaged in an immediate discussion over whatever was going on that day.

Within a minute it was clear they didn't agree with one another. Their voices bounced back and forth, then began cutting off each other's sentences. Darren got up from his seat, getting more and more animated until he was waving his arms around. As soon as he was off, Zack became just as physically imposing.

It turned into quite heated bickering, where Zack called Darren a 'stubborn pillock', and Darren told Zack that his mathematics were 'diabolical'. I bit my lip and looked at David, but he only grinned back.

It stopped almost as abruptly as it started. Both looked like they were about to say something more, but didn't. Zack pinched the bridge of his nose and Darren's arms crossed.

David gave them a mocking applause. "Diplomacy."

Zack guffawed and his gaze shot around. "Shut your mouth, son."

"You know I'm right," Darren said.

"No, I haven't said that yet."

"Take your time."

Zack scoffed. "You know how much goes down the drain if this falls through?"

"Diddums."

I finally snickered and looked at the floor. Darren's sophisticated insults were quite something. Zack promptly left, taking David with him, and Darren returned to his seat, completely unfazed by the little spat.

I hesitated before I spoke this time. I wasn't sure how far this man's humour went.

"... Are you sure you two aren't married instead?"

His eyebrows rose, but he smiled at me. "There's no arguing with Zack. There's waiting until Zack realises he might be wrong."

"And Tyler's any easier?"

"Usually. I'm allowed more creative methods to shut him up."

I nearly choked on an eruption of laughter I tried to suppress. Holy shit.

His smile got bigger. "Get your mind out the gutter."

"You said it, not me!"

I think, sometimes, people give you a simple look, that says 'I like you'. Darren just gave me that look. I was feeling a little more confident. With everything, overall.

I was released for lunch hour, which I only spent with David as the rest of the family was occupied with these phantom events and angsty phonecalls. "What exactly is going on?" I asked him.

David shrugged. "Some business partnership. It's international. It's a big deal."

"Right. What country?"

"'Murica."

Darren was on the phone again when I returned to his office. I just let myself in and leant against the desk while he paced in circles. Even if his voice was professional and proper, he had a constant smile on his face, with jittery and excited movements. When he hung up I expected him to fist pump the air while yelling 'Yes!', or something.

No, he was still a bit too British for that.

"Right, I have to dash," he said, retrieving his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

"Err," I replied.

"You can watch the phone for me," he continued, gesturing to the one on the desk.

"What do I do?"

"Give your name, apologise that I'm in a meeting, and ask if they'd like to leave a message."

"... Okay."

He headed for the door, checked his pockets, realised he'd forgotten something, and went back for the desk. "Don't worry, I doubt anyone will leave a message. If someone actually wants a hold of me they call my work phone. And if they're really cheeky, they call my private one." Stuffing something into his pocket, he took his leave. "Catch you later."

I was left alone in his office. I tried to fight my nosey urges, but couldn't. Oh God, I needed to explore. I had just reached the other side of the room when the phone rang, already. Shit.

"Darren," a gruff and completely informal voice said, before I had a chance to compose what I needed to say. Fucking hell, I couldn't tell if it was David or Zack.

"Err," I stammered in my typical fashion.

It was David's familiar tone of laugh. "He's got you watching the phone?"

"Yeah, he just went out."

"Oh. Dad, Darren's fucked off somewhere."

"For fuck sake," Zack's voice growled in the background.

"Vi, when did he leave?"

"Literally a minute ago."

"Dad, you can still catch him." There were more background noises, and David chuckled again. "I'll come keep you company," he said to me.

I resumed my 'exploring', and perhaps by dumb luck was by the window to witness a comical sight - Zack sprinting across the carpark below, throwing himself in front of a black car that was pulling out. It braked sharply, Zack slammed his hands on the bonnet a few times, and Darren's head and shoulders poked out the window with more bickering and arm waving. Then Zack went around and clambered into the passenger side, and both drove off.

David came in while I had my nose in a drawer of files.

"Oh my fucking God." He grabbed the hood of my hoodie, pulled me away, and shoved me down into Darren's chair.

"What?"

"This is like a company CEO, you know? And you're snooping around his office like a damn burglar."

I grinned. "Half the stuff is locked anyways."

"Yeah, and I'm not telling you where he keeps the keys."

*

Wesley got the job, much to everyone's surprise and delight. And not only that, he passed his theory exam without having to retake. The practical was a breeze. He was doing well for himself.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 06



Darren and Tyler came over for a dinner, as if in celebration, which just meant Wesley had the shit lovingly ripped out of him. He could handle the banter quite fine.

"It's plucking the eyebrows," he said to Zack. "It's the secret."

"Well I didn't pluck my eyebrows for my job," Zack replied.

"No, you just fucked Mum instead. That's next level, Dad." Amongst the laughter, his eyes shot to Tyler. "Don't know why you're laughing, you did the same."

Tyler yelped again. "I got my job before I fucked Darren, you little prick."

"Okay, sure."

"Jesus Christ, why do I always get the blame for this? It was Darren who started it." He looked straight across the table at me. "Do you know what he fucking did?"

"Tyler-"

"He got me, the poor little newbie employee who'd only been there a month, alone in his office under the disguise of fixing his PC. And started making moves on me. Sexual harassment in the work place, that's what it was."

Darren bounced with a chuckle and rubbed his brow. "And you weren't up for it at all, were you?"

Zack gestured at Amelia with his fork. "She mostly did the same to me."

"What? You flirted with me first."

"Yes, but what you did is as Wes calls, 'next level'."

"I didn't fuck you in my office! Good God!" She sought my gaze. "Don't listen to a word he says, I'm not a slut."

"I did nothing of the sort either," Darren hurriedly added.

Tyler chuckled. "Yeah, apparently these rich white people had a thing for the little brown boys whose lives were a mess."

David barked with laughter, throwing himself back in his chair. "Holy shit, still not letting this 'brown' thing go?"

"Kid, I'm gonna keep saying it until people stop reacting like I said the word 'nig-"

"Oh my fucking God-"

"Tyler, please-"

"Fucking hell-"

The table took a good minute to recover from that. Everyone set each other off again any time they made eye contact. Tyler just sat there grinning, head turning side to side to look between them, then shrugged at me as if these people had the issues, not him.

Poor little Hanna. I think, half the time, things went over her head. Just as well.

The conversation finally got back on track as Tyler waved a hand at Wesley. "Kid, let's see your license. How bad is your picture?"

"It's not bad," Wesley said, dropping his wallet on the table so Tyler could look through it. He leant across his plate and tried to pull his cutest face at Amelia the far end of the table. "All I need now is a car."

She tutted. "We'll get you on insurance for ours, but you buy your own car, Wesley."

"I'm only working weekends."

"Good, that means you'll be here to look after Hanna when her holidays start."

"I don't need to be looked after," Hanna protested.

"Can you cook? No?"

"I can make pot noodles."

"You're gonna be surviving off those once you go to uni," David said. "You don't need to start now."

Wesley chuckled and looked back at Tyler. "Are you sorting the pool for summer?"

Tyler sat back in his chair and grunted as though he'd just been asked to exert an unfathomable amount of effort.

"Fuck the pool," David said. "What about the race track?"

Darren grinned. "Maybe."

David's gaze shot around to me. "You want to see what happens when my uncles get their sports cars on a race track?"

I glanced between them, then back at David. "Yes?"

"Do it, Darren."

He chuckled and shrugged. "We'll see."

Apparently, 'we'll see' meant, 'yes I would like to show off', because it was organised for the next weekend. Wesley didn't have a shift that Saturday. He wasn't fussed about the race track, though - he said that last time he 'threw up all over the dashboard of Darren's car'. No, he mostly cared about the pool.

I didn't even own any swimwear, but David took me to buy a bikini. A girl who worked at the shop went to school with him, and recognised him. David immediately tried to get away but she wouldn't stop talking, asking him about university, about Wesley, then about me. That frustrating 'she's-right-here-so-I-could-talk-to-her-myself-but-I'll-just-keep-asking-you'.

"Fuck sake," David said, once we were finally walking out. "Why didn't these girls show any interest in me when I didn't have a girlfriend?"

I grinned and locked my fingers with his. "That's just how it goes, isn't it? Also, you're hot." I'd finally gotten him in one of those tank tops, and his face and shoulders had been catching the sun, bronzing his skin even further.

He tossed me an unimpressed look. Why did I have the only boyfriend in the world who reacted as though I'd insulted him when I called him attractive?

"Some guys in physics only started paying attention to me once I was with you," I continued. "Or maybe they were just trying to figure out what the hell you saw in me."

"Shut up. You're fucking beautiful."

"But Chanice is queen bee in physics, isn't she?"

"Yeah, so? You're way prettier than her."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. The guys in physics are fucking desperate."

I cracked up. He was so loyal, so cute.

We waited on Saturday for Tyler to pick us up sometime in the afternoon. "You know I basically can't swim?" I said to David.

"You think anyone's actually going to be swimming?"

I had an irrational hatred of pools, which I blamed on mandatory school swimming lessons, so that didn't sound much better to me.

Tyler pulled up to the house but didn't bother down the driveway, letting us know he was there with his typical engine revving.

"Shotgun," Wesley called as we walked out.

"No," Tyler said. "Lady sits in the front. Get in the back."

"Oh my God. Tyler, there's no room."

"Don't start."

"I will break my knees. Tyler please."

"Get in the back you little shit."

I clambered into the comfortable passenger seat, tossing a cheeky smile over my shoulder at Wesley's misfortune. The backseat of that sports car really didn't look designed to fit anyone over six foot.

The amount of banter squeezed into a short drive was incredible. I guess Wesley started it with his whining. Tyler ripped into him instantly. In a mockingly spiteful response, Wes made a comment on how the model of the car was 'some years old by now', which led to David starting on Tyler.

"And how old are you now?"

"Thirty-nine."

"Yeah, but you're not. You're fucking forty, Tyler."

"Shut up, kid."

"You're old, Tyler."

"Kid."

"I like how you call him 'kid'," I chipped in, "when his voice is twice as deep as yours."

Tyler let out a little yelp of laughter as if to prove my point. "Girl, you should've heard him years ago. He had the cutest, squeakiest voice you ever heard."

"'Uncle Tyler!'" Wesley tried to imitate, as shrill as he could go, and David guffawed.

"Jesus Christ," Tyler chuckled. "Nailed it. When kid's balls dropped they didn't just drop, they crashed through the floor. He went from that, to this, in about the space of a week."

"It was pretty amazing," Wesley agreed.

I saw David's grin in the rearview mirror. "It used to annoy me that you wouldn't stop calling me 'kid', Tyler. Then I realised it was only because you didn't want to accept that I'd grown up, 'cause that makes you old."

"I'm not old."

"I think I can see your first greys, in your beard."

"Fuck off, kid."

David only had a couple of subjects that could work in winding Tyler up, and he was putting them to good use. When Tyler had quipped his way out of the harassment over his age, his sexuality was under fire next.

"... Yeah, but kid, the thing is, I'm not gay."

"But you are."

"But I'm not."

David leant forward, against the back of my seat. "You married a man. That's pretty fucking gay, Tyler."

"I'm not gay."

"Why do you always argue against it?"

"The same way that if I'd married a woman I'd be arguing if you called me straight."

"Tyler. You're gay."

We braked into a long line of cars waiting at some traffic lights.

"I'm not gay."

"You're so gay."

"Fuck your shit, kid."

"Fudge packer."

Tyler reached back, grabbed a handful of David's hair, and smacked his head against the back of my seat. He let out an ear-splitting guffaw.

"Oi!" Wesley barked. "We don't need a kitchen incident in the car."

I grinned, looking over the seat as if I needed to check David wasn't hurt. "What's a 'kitchen incident'?"

Tyler pulled up the handbrake. "Kid tried to break my nose a few years back."

"I'm not even surprised."

"Yeah," David said. "And then Tyler clobbered me twenty times in the head and gave me a concussion."

"You deserved it," he quipped.

"So did you."

Wesley's exaggerated sigh rang out. "So much hate."

"I'm sorry. I love you, Tyler."

"I love you too, kid." Then he flashed me a grin. "I don't know why you're shagging this prick."

"He's a good shag," I replied.

"Wow. And you gag him to shut him up?"

"I sit on his face."

You knew Tyler thought something was funny when he fucking squeaked. I don't know why he laughed so much, as if I'd caught him off guard - he'd walked right into that one. He was gasping for breath and could barely drive, and David and Wes were straight in on it, not giving him any respite.

"Yeah, you laugh, but she's telling the truth, she shuts me up good."

Wesley hooked an arm over the back of Tyler's seat, patting his shoulder. "It's just too much for you, isn't it? Little Dave ain't a virgin anymore."

"It's like I said. He won't accept I've grown up because that means he's old."

"Jesus Christ," Tyler chuckled, wiping at one of his eyes.

"Tyler," Wes said, gesturing at me with a thumb. "I'm fucking warning you. She's got a mouth on her. She tricks you, 'cause she's quiet. You think she's shy, right? She's fucking not. She'll rip you apart if you try it on. Mate, stop laughing, I'm not even joking."

He shook his head and managed a much-needed inhale. "Kid, put a ring on it."

David scoffed. "Yeah, all right. Don't scare her off."

Tyler's giggle fit was perpetual, even swearing at himself with a squeaky 'for fuck sake' when he just couldn't stop. We pulled up to a driveway, blocked by metal gates. He finally gathered his composure, winding down his window and leaning out to enter a code on a number pad. "I missed you, kids."

"Yeah?" Wes asked. "Glad we're home for summer?"

"Yes."

"Well it ain't a holiday without a sleepover round the uncles', is it?"

I stopped paying attention to the interior of the car, studying the enormous house we approached through the open gates. The tyres crunched on gravel as Tyler steered past what wasn't a front garden, more like grounds. Oh God, it stretched everywhere. Fucking rich people.

The car stopped and we waited for a door of some oversized garage extension to roll up. Tyler swore at it in impatience, making the car edge forward an inch at a time with more engine revving. I took a glance around once we were rolling inside, then my gaze snapped to Tyler's face.

"Why the fuck have you got like six sports cars?"

David and Wesley burst into laughter, but Tyler held up a dismissive hand like he'd just been accused of a crime.

"It's not me. Everyone always fucking thinks it's me, but it's not. It's Darren."

"But why?"

"Because he's allergic to money. As soon as he has it, he has to do something with it."

"So he collects cars?"

"What he buys is a fucked up mess destined for a scrap heap, and hands it over to a mechanic we know."

"Right."

"He hardly even drives them, because he thinks it makes him look like he has a mid-life crisis. So he uses that Jaguar instead. Because, you know, a fifty-K Jag isn't a flash car."

"Mid-life crisis," David repeated. "So what the fuck happened to you?"

"Quarter-life crisis," Tyler replied.

Darren wasn't home for whatever reason. I half expected to be greeted by butlers and servants when we went inside the house. Its interior was spacious, almost tranquil, shattered by the voices and bodies bundling through. I followed, as much as I wanted to break away to snoop around.

Tyler gave me a brief explanation of the pool. "This end, eight foot. That end, five foot. Don't go fucking bombing in the shallow end."

I had no intentions of doing anything of the sort.

With the house being up a slight hill, the view from the patio showed stretches of fields and trees from the surrounding countryside. I pulled my phone out and took a picture, catching the pool, the view, and half of David's back, stripped down to his swimming trunks. I sent it to my mum, just in case she needed proof of how well I was getting along.

She mustn't have been busy, because her response came unusually fast. "#richpeople," it said, with a thumbs up.

I was grinning to myself when David started to harass and grope me, trying to undress me to the bikini beneath.

Distant gravel crunched to accomodate more tyres, followed by the faint sound of a slammed car door. Not more than a minute later Darren appeared through the house, dumping two crates of drinks on the table beneath the parasol. When David approached he gave him a bemused scowl. David looked down at himself, equally confused.

"What?"

"Are you fucking surprised, Darren?" Tyler asked. "He's Zack's kid. He gets a sixpack because he sits up to get out of bed every morning."

David went sheepish. "I've been working out."

"It shows. Fucking hell."

"Look how fuckin' hairy he's getting," Wesley said.

"Yeah," Tyler agreed. "He's getting there."

Instead of being embarrassed further, David seemed to take that as an outright attack. "What? I don't have a hairy chest?"

"It's a chest with hair on it. It's not what I'd call a hairy chest."

Wesley was in the midst of lifting himself out the edge of the pool, and blurted with laughter. "Tyler's masculine beauty standards again. Fuck me."

"What?" Now Tyler looked attacked. "I'm just saying. Your dad was hairier than you at your age."

"Fuck off, Tyler."

Darren clasped his brow. "Gentlemen, please."

"They've been like this since the moment we got in the car," I said.

He chuckled and gave me a grin. "I'm so sorry."

"All right, because miss innocent never joins in." Tyler leant an arm on Darren's shoulder. "Are you getting in for once?"

Darren gave the pool a disdainful look, as though it were something his highness could never possibly want to touch. Tyler responded by giving him a boisterous shove, then shrieked with incredulous laughter, as though he expected Darren to shove back, or stand his ground, or only stagger a step, anything other than lose his balance and faceplant the water.

He surfaced with splashing and gasping, then a deep bellow. "Pillock!"

Tyler dove in after him. To rescue him? No, to bully him. He dragged Darren underwater, distorted colours wrestling beneath the choppy surface. Darren broke through with more gasping. Tyler stalked him like a shark, dragging him under twice more before he finally made it to the edge of the pool, clinging on for dear life in a coughing, swearing, and chuckling mess.

When they'd recovered from their own laughing fits, David and Wesley leapt into the pool and launched a similar attack on Tyler. Darren pulled himself out, collapsing on his back in the bedraggled state of his clothes and shoes. So much for dignity. Luckily, he'd had nothing important in his pockets.

That was pretty much how the afternoon went. After Tyler enacted his drowning attempts on me three times too many, fought by all the kicking and screaming and splashing I could muster, I fled from the pool to join Darren - showered and in dry clothes - beneath the shade of the parasol. I told him all about my nightmare experiences with swimming lessons at school. He chuckled through it.

"Once I was a bit older, swimming days always miraculously landed during my period," I said.

"Well, I never got that excuse."

"Sucked to be you."

He chuckled again. "It was traumatizing. I don't think there was any effort to teach anything, they threw us in the deep end and told us to swim to the shallows if we wanted to survive. And if you tried to get out at the sides before you made it, they shoved you back in with the end of a broom." His stories were always aided by generous arm movements and hand gestures, to ensure you really pictured it.

Whatever was going on in the water, Tyler was being ganged up on and losing. There were splashes, yelling, and barks of laughter galore.

"So you had one of those nightmare private schools?" I asked.

"Strict Catholic," Darren replied.

"Ouch. All boys?"

"Yes." He gave me a humorous, but sharp look. "Before you ask, no."

"Hey I-"

"What actually happens at all-male schools, is that everyone is quite aware of the stigma, and makes an extra effort to prove how straight they are."

I held my hands up. "You keep accusing me of all these things before I open my mouth."

"It's a very common question."

"I know I'm a commoner, but come on."

That got another chuckle out of him. "Yes, is that what you are? A peasant?"

"I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here, with all these flashy cars and big houses."

He smiled and sipped his drink. "Money means nothing."

As much as I was starting to like Darren, hearing a rich person say that was incredibly annoying.

Once everyone was showered and dried off, it was dinner time. Tyler cooked, or rather, tried to cook while being harassed and bullied by Darren. Payback for the pool, I guess. He was tugged and shoved all over the kitchen, yelping with laughter, and Wesley did his sigh.

"Want to save your domestics for when we aren't here?"

Because Tyler looked so abused, repeatedly hugged and kissed.

Just like at home, David had to make himself useful, helping with cutting vegetables, then laying the table. Wesley and I sat on the island counter doing fuck all.

Evening time was movie time. Wesley searched through the DVDs, very specific in his tastes. "Let's watch an old one, from your time."

Tyler scoffed. "From 'my time'? How fucking old do you think I am?"

"Transformers, yes. Which is the one where Optimus rides the T-Rex?"

"You want to watch braindead explosions, okay kid."

"Man, you've been in those labs long enough. Where are our Transformers, Tyler?"

"Do you know how many rules and regulations there are surrounding AI already?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Do you know what an absolute fit the planet would have if we turned out something even close to a Transformer?"

"Mate, I believe in you. You'll get there one day. If you don't, the bad guys will."

Tyler sat back on the sofa with a little grin, stopping himself from bothering to continue the conversation. Apparently, making light of his work was the third thing that succeeded in winding him up.

"Tyler," Wes continued, waving a DVD in the air. "There's Chevy's everywhere in this. You love this shit."

"Okay, kid."

Everyone talked all through the movies anyways.

And kept talking afterwards. The banter and testosterone finally died down, and things took on a much calmer, perhaps 'normal' feel. The conversations weren't all entirely interesting. They covered typical life stuff, some discussions about the differences between what university was like for us, and how it had been for Tyler and Zack years ago. Darren's education record was bland - no college, no university. He came from a family that had always run business, so him inheriting and finding himself in his position was no surprise. "Monkey see, monkey do," was his explanation.

Mentions of Darren's family were noticeably brief before things moved on. He preferred to talk about Amelia as if she were actually a blood sister, about how their families had been friends, about how they'd literally known each other since babies. He seemed to know more about her parents than his own. I wanted to probe with questions, but saw no way I could do it without being outright rude.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 07



---

David

She couldn't be fucking doing this.

When I first woke up, there was no body directly beside me, but I didn't think much of it and dozed off again. Coming to the second time, I looked around the room for her. She was sitting on my desk chair, fully clothed, staring back at me. As if she had been waiting for me to wake up.

There was something alarming about her expression and posture, but I didn't make any sense of the red flag in that moment.

She looked at me as if I was a... thing. Her eyes had no emotion. Her voice was blank, words choreographed.

"I have to go for a couple of days."

"What?" I sat up and pushed the duvet off. "Where?"

"To see my parents."

"Why?"

"Stuff going on. Just need to see them for a couple days."

"Stuff? What stuff?"

A flicker passed over her stoney expression, as though she had said something wrong. She got to her feet and picked up a small backpack. "I'll only be a couple of days. I'm leaving everything else here. I'll be back soon."

"No, wait." I quickly got out of bed, pulling on some boxers.

"What?" she said, hand already on the door handle.

"What's going on? Talk to me."

"No, it's fine."

"Vi."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not allowed to see my parents?"

I held my arms out, a spark of frustration building up. "What stuff, Violet? What's going on?"

"It doesn't matter."

She opened the door but I lunged over, grabbing the shoulder of her leather jacket. She froze, her eyes slid to me with a glare. I didn't let go. Her fingers closed painfully around my wrist, like she had no inhibitions of using whatever raw strength her body could muster, and yanked my hand off.

"Get out of my face."

She walked out.

"Hey. Hey!"

I lunged in front of her again, trying to block her way down the stairs. Her eyes were just as empty as before, the glare was something created in her skin and brow. It wasn't her. It was like someone had ripped her personality out, and left a shell.

"You're just gonna do this?" I asked. "Just gonna walk away from me?"

"Yes."

She pushed past me, each step making absolutely no sound as she descended the stairs. I thundered down after her, tried to grab her again. She knocked my arms away with precision, and put both hands on my stomach to shove me back.

"You're gonna make a scene, huh?" she hissed. "Get everybody involved?"

I stared at her in a stunned silence. "Vi..."

"You can't stop me. Don't fucking try. I have to do this, I need to see them."

"Do what? Stop, please, Vi, just stop. Fucking talk to me."

"No."

"You can't do this." I took another step forward and she bristled like a snarling animal, backing away from me.

"Get out of my face. For fuck sake, David. Give me some fucking space!"

When her voice rose I froze. She took one last look at me, before turning her back to open the front door. She stepped outside, and slammed it shut behind her.

"David?" Mum's voice asked.

I just stood there in my boxers, staring at the front door, a sickly weight in my stomach.

"What was that?"

"She's... had some argument with her parents, and now she's going to see them."

I felt her warm hand on my shoulder, and my gaze snapped around. She looked confused, also mildly alarmed. I must have been obviously upset. I raked my fingers through my hair.

"She's angry?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Then let her calm down a little. Text her later."

Mum, of course, could sound completely calm and logical. But it wasn't that simple. It... fuck. Violet couldn't go back to that environment. I had no idea what she was going back to. I had no idea what was going on. Mum's hand stroked soothingly over my shoulder but I couldn't accept it. I pulled away, retreating up the stairs.

"Mate?" Wesley asked. "The fuck?"

I ignored him and went straight to my room, but he followed. Shit. Shit. Why was this fucking happening? I wanted to get dressed and chase outside after her, but some fear was stopping me. The way she'd looked at me, I felt like she'd leave me forever.

"David. Mate. What was that about?"

I sat on my bed and buried my face into my hands. How had it happened? I had some faint, lingering memory from last night - Violet sitting up in bed, light of her phone's screen on her face. A phonecall? So this was happening, again. She was getting aggressive and weird with me again, because someone was contacting her. Again.

"Dave, for fuck sake." Wesley sat next to me, shoulder and leg against mine.

I looked up at his face. Shit, he was the only person who knew. The only person I could talk to. "She's gone to see her parents."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I ran my fingers through my hair again, gripped the nape of my neck. My eyes were watering. My voice strained. "I don't fucking know. Why won't she talk to me, Wes?"

My chest was tight, it was physically hurting. Seeing her so cold, so empty like that, had shaken me to the core. She could just do that? Switch her affections off overnight? I tried to wipe at my eyes, but the tears kept coming and I couldn't stop it.

Wesley's arm went around my shoulders. "Hey," he whispered. "It's okay."

No, it wasn't.

---

Violet

I needed David out of the way. I couldn't keep him safe if he was going to get involved.

Sure, he would be angry with me, even upset. He'd get over it. I couldn't see him dragged into anything. I'd deal with him, after I'd dealt with this. I couldn't handle more than one thing at a time.

I was paranoid all the way to the station, checking over my shoulder, making sure he wasn't following me. He couldn't understand. He couldn't be safe if he knew. He'd try to stop me.

Maybe knowing his reaction should've been enough to drill some sense into me, but I wasn't thinking. I was back to reacting. Doing whatever I thought I needed to do. Impulses ruling a blank mind.

I could've walked out during the night, just left him a message. But I didn't feel right about that. Somewhere, right at the core that hadn't frozen over yet, I still cared enough to face him as I did this. He deserved that from me, at least. It wasn't his fault that I had ties to this world, but I guess it was his fault for getting involved with me.

I wouldn't let him get himself hurt. That's how I convinced myself that what I was doing was okay.

When trapped in a tunnel vision there wasn't time for doubt.

The wait for the train felt long. The journey felt long. Harold texted me the license plate of my ride, and I looked for it in the station's carpark. The driver was focused on his phone and didn't see me approaching. I ripped open the passenger door and he jumped, eyes shifting to me in a mixture of suspicion and knowledge.

"Lewis?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Aight."

I didn't know him, and he didn't know me. Neither of us were bothered by that.

"Straight to Harold?" he continued.

"Yes."

"Aight." He offered me a toffee from a packet.

I took it. I didn't really know if I was hungry. I didn't know if I was tired. I didn't feel anything.

It was late afternoon when I finally reached Harold's flat. My driver didn't drop me off, he parked and came in with me. He knew the code to the building and had a key for Harold's place.

As usual, where Harold lived looked anywhere close to a crack den. There was clutter and shit everywhere, a lingering smell of being too 'lived in'. The air was almost misty from smoke, or dust, or something.

Two more unfamiliar faces looked around as I stepped in. Harold's voice came from another room, on the phone. I sat myself on the sofa while a guy in an armchair studied me curiously, cigarette hanging from his lips. His appraising eyes moved over me, from head to toe, and I stared back.

"'Ello," he started, with the tone of, 'Who the fuck are you?'

"Vi," Harold said, before I could reply. I swiveled to look over the sofa. "Pretty quick, good job. Are you hungry? Gettin' a Chinese tonight. You," he held some cash out to the guy in the armchair, "go sort it."

He gave me another suspicious look, but got to his feet and obeyed without question.

Harold called someone else up, pacing around the flat while he talked. He was putting out the information I'd given him, seeing if it garnered any interest. In my state of mind, it was an amusing sight. Darren spent a lot of time on the phone, didn't he? Harold was a businessman as well, of a different calibre.

There were more people coming in and out. The bustling environment was familiar, stirring up old memories of being dragged places with my parents. Only, I was alone this time.

Eventually, someone turned up who recognised me. "Hey, it's fuckin' Violet!"

Harold told him, and anybody else, to shut up. "It's her mum 'n dad we're dealing with at the moment."

People from that world could be very grounded, very understanding. They 'got it', and left me alone. I had every right to be uptight. Everyone knew what a rough patch was like. Many of them didn't know me, but they knew my parents.

Harold could be a funny, round little man, yet everybody did as he said. Younger, fitter men trod on eggshells around him, happy to engage in a bit of banter and quickly shutting up when he gave them the look. That was what happened when someone held a renowned rank within a hierarchy.

Somewhere between 5-6pm, dinner arrived. People crowded around to share out the mountains of Chinese brought in paper bags. The smell made me hungry, but after a few mouthfuls I was full, mostly poking at things with my plastic spork. The bustling finally relaxed, the coming and going stopped, and everyone just sat down to smoke, drink, or do whatever. It was a day in the life. My parents were simply potentially dying in the background.

"Harold," I started. "How old are you? Fifty?"

The room filled with boisterous laughs as he gave me his toothless grin. "Why, flower?"

"How long you been doing this? Thirty years?"

"Maybe longer."

"I was wondering if you'd remember someone by description. Someone who used to be in, a while ago."

Harold frowned at me. "What, did they die?"

"No, they quit."

"A deserter, nice." He held a cigarette between his lips, lighting it up. "Are you expectin' me to chase up on this, or something?"

"No."

"John's memory's always been sharper than mine. You can try, girl."

"He's a big guy. You know, not fat, just big. Six-four, or something. He came from Birmingham, he sorta looks like a Paki, you know?" There were more chuckles. "Seriously, I don't know how else to explain. Black hair, green eyes, real rough and mean-looking. He was a fighter."

"A Brummie," Harold said. "See, I don't know anybody from up north. Other than your dad."

"Brum ain't 'north'," another guy chipped. "It's midlands."

"Boy, anythin' beyond Oxford is 'north' to me."

Someone cracked a beer open into more laughter.

"Hey, girl," that same guy continued. "I'm not being funny, but I think I might know who you mean. Not know-know, but what you're sayin', I've heard before."

I perked up at the chance of my curiosity being sated. "Yeah?"

"This guy you know, what's his name?"

"Zack. I don't know what he went by back then. He's like, forty. He was in when he was a teenager, early twenties."

The guy looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Don't 'urt yerself," someone else quipped.

"Man, shut up. I know someone, who talked about someone that sounds similar, aight? He called him 'Amir', I think. From what he said, this guy, he was like a fuckin' Rottweiler. He could fuck up anybody."

I smirked. Yeah, that sounded enough like Zack. I wasn't going to get a definite answer, though. 'My mate knew' stories were always unreliable, embellished pieces of shit.

"Why'd he quit?" someone asked.

"He went to uni like me," I replied, taking another mouthful of my beer. That got more laughter and bantering out of them, but I didn't feel anything towards to it. I'm not sure what I was expecting the alcohol to do. I was already numb.

*

Harold's hand shook me awake from my unconscious state on his sofa.

"Sweetie, up, up."

I rubbed my eyes and rolled onto my stomach. "What."

"The name, it's worked."

I stared at the mess of beer cans on the floor. "Yeah?"

"We got their fuckin' attention. The market. You're going to see someone this afternoon."

"Fuck." I pushed up on an arm, brushing hair behind my ear.

"Get showered, get yourself presentable. This is serious, Vi."

I was lucky I didn't have a hangover. I was just stiff and groggy, feeling sick from inhaling so much second-hand smoke. And maybe a bit sick from the beer. I didn't really like beer. Don't know why I drank it.

I dragged myself to his bathroom, gazed into the mirror, and surprised myself by how pale I was. I looked ill. It made my freckles stand out more than normal. Did it make me look cute? Was that a good thing?

I showered fast, changed into fresh clothes from my backpack. Harold knocked while I was brushing my hair.

"Yeah," I said.

He came in, grabbed my chin, turned my head. "No makeup. The younger you look, the better."

"Yeah?" I didn't like him touching me.

"Yeah."

"Who am I meeting?"

"They're being vague, you understand? Got location and details. You better handle this, flower."

"I will."

He handed me a flip knife. "Just in case, yeah?"

I slipped it into my pocket and didn't reply.

There was barely time for me eat, but I couldn't stomach it anyways. I managed two mouthfuls of toast before that same driver from the previous day turned up to take me somewhere. He had such a bored face, and looked at his phone too much. Harold gave him strict directions and instructions.

My number was given to whoever I was meeting. It was a bright, sunny day, and I was dumped out onto the street in a busy public space, outside the town's main shopping centre. The leather jacket was going to get uncomfortably hot very quickly. I glanced around, pulled my phone out, and leant against a wall to look busy.

I had a text from David. "Gonna talk to me yet?"

No, not yet.

My eyes automatically shifted around again. So much for inconspicuous. But I wasn't nervous, I was incapable of feeling anything. There was simply that mild curiosity. I had no idea what was going on, what was about to happen to me. I was disobeying Dad's orders, in the hope that doing so might save his sorry arse.

Before long my phone rang. I gave it a blank stare, swiped the screen, and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Miss Lewis?"

"Yes."

"I think I see you. Step out a bit, yeah?"

I did so, moving away from the wall, towards the road.

"All good, lass. Turn right."

The voice had a tang of an accent, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Yes, you're looking at me."

I could see the white of a shirt through the windscreen of a car, pulled up on the curb. Sunlight reflections obscured the face. A hand briefly lifted in acknowledgement, then the call ended.

I covered the distance. Had that car been there the whole time, watching me arrive? I hadn't noticed it parking itself otherwise. I opened the passenger door and peered inside. The man beckoned, so I climbed in.

My second time getting into a car with strangers in two days. Be proud, Mum.

The cabin was pretty nice. Fancy dashboard, leather seats. My host patiently waited for me to shut the door, but didn't offer me a handshake. He had one elbow leant up on the back of his seat, the other hand idly on the wheel. He studied me. Intently.

He wore simple black trousers with that shirt, the top two buttons undone. His age was hard to determine. Not that old, not that young. His sleeves were rolled up to show sturdy forearms, the stubble on his jaw might've been showing signs of greying.

"You're with the market?" I asked. "You work for 'Driscoll'?"

"Yes."

There was another short silence. "Are you taking me somewhere, or am I talking to you?"

"You're talking to me."

Something about his demeanour told me he was high ranking. He wasn't some chauffeur grunt. The accent was bothering me - so diluted it was indistinguishable, yet just about there, catching slightly on his words.

He started the engine, watching the busy road for a few seconds before turning out onto it, then started the car's air conditioning.

"My first question for you, lass, quite naturally. How do you know our Mister Sörensen?"

My answer almost sounded stupid, yet it was nothing but the blunt truth. "I'm dating his nephew."

"Interesting... And why did you decide to contact us with this name?"

"My father told me it has enemies. You have my parents. You want two-hundred grand for their release. I don't have two-hundred grand."

"I see your logic."

I stared at the side of his face. His nose had a little bump in its bridge. "What's happened to my parents?"

"They're alive."

"Are they hurt?"

"Yes, I'm afraid. They put up quite a fight and had to be subdued."

"How hurt?"

"I don't believe they'll be dying overnight."

I averted my gaze to the window, wondering what I was supposed to be feeling, even thinking.

"Lass," he started. "The lord of your little drug gang has been giving me issues for a while. I've been looking forward to an excuse to knock him down a notch. You'll have to offer me something very good to change my mind."

"It's not my gang," I replied. "I want nothing to do with them. I'm here for my parents."

He removed his eyes from the road to give me a brief glance.

"You can go to war with them for all I care. Do whatever you want. Just give me my parents."

"Yeah," he said. "I can respect that. Family's important, eh?"

"They're all I have."

"Family's very important to me, also. But what about Sörensen? Isn't he family to you? How close are you with this boyfriend of yours?"

"I... don't know what Sörensen's done to have enemies," I carefully replied. "I imagine he's not a saint. His business isn't my business."

The man pulled the car over, stopping so he could look around and study me, not caring if I held his gaze or not. "Am I understanding, that if this should cause some... wedge, in your personal life, you are already aware of it? That you're choosing your parents over your boyfriend here, girl?"

I swallowed. "Yes." His questions forced me to think, however briefly, and I felt a faint crack in my resolve, but I ignored it. I needed to see this through.

"You're very calm," he probed.

"I don't want to do something wrong, that's going to get my parents killed." The more plain and biddable he thought I was, the easier this would be.

He nodded, and gently steered the car back onto the road. "Fancy yourself pragmatic? Realistic?"

"I guess."

"You're not what I'd expect out of a drug gang. You speak well, for one."

I shrugged. "I'm at university."

"A student, eh? Well done, lass."

I looked out the window again. "Where are you taking me? To Driscoll?"

"He's right here."

Shit. I almost swiveled to check the backseat, like a fucking idiot, but made do with a glance at the rearview mirror. I frowned at him while it sunk in, felt my head shake. "Why?" I asked.

He knew what I meant. What if I was dangerous, had other motives? His thin lips curved with a smirk, but he didn't look at me. "This has been quite a surprise. I had a carrot with 'Sörensen' written on it, dangled in front of me. Out of nowhere, it seemed. Unrelated to anything at all. It's quite a personal matter."

The Driscoll name held a lot of weight. He must've been filthy rich, infamous as hell, dealing in all sorts of illegal trades. There I was, sitting next to him in a car, trying reach some sort of compromise about letting my parents go. I could've just been dealing with a lieutenant or something. Nope, how about an actual Driscoll.

Fucking. Hell.

Impulses screamed to open the car door and get out. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. What I was supposed to do.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 07



Calm the fuck down, and see this through.

"I don't suppose you have any idea about the story behind Sörensen, do you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"It almost depends on which Sörensen we're talking about. There's been a few, obviously, and all nasty pieces of work. My bloodline, we seem to repeatedly have dealings with them, much to our detriment. Whenever we go our separate ways, we cross paths again somewhere down the line."

His driving was aimless. We were cruising around the town without any particular direction.

"Now, Darren, yes? His father, and my father, were involved in dealings, keeping to this century-long pattern. The Sörensen, in typical fashion, displayed his genetic disrespect for everything possible. He intervened with a certain transaction, making sure no shares would reach my father, and ran off with some important information. And a lot of money."

Men behaving badly in the business world. I wasn't even surprised. Perhaps my indifference showed too vividly on my face, because Driscoll tossed me a glance.

"It doesn't end there, lass. He also ran off with my father's wife. My mother, Miss Lewis. My mother. She abandoned us, fancying her chances with this Sörensen cunt."

I swallowed and gave a nod.

"Family is important, lass, and there's a line to be drawn somewhere. My father saw this dealt with, saw two Sörensens removed for their involvement. Unfortunately, his marriage could not be saved. He was bitter, as you might imagine, but as far as he was concerned, that was the end of it. The problem now was Arthur's son, Darren. He rose up and started business, built on his father's dirt. Very disrespectful."

"What's still running?" I asked.

"Yes. My father ignored it for a long time, until he heard it was getting involved with the military. Then he just had to stick his nose in. My father was a good man, lass, he felt as though he had acted impulsively, under the influence of anger. He seemed to think he could make amends. I advised him not to initiate any dealings with a Sörensen again, but my dear father, always very headstrong. He attempted contact with Darren, and was met with violence both times."

There was a short silence, and Driscoll looked at me. "Is any of this surprising you?"

All I could manage was a shrug.

"My father did not react well to disrespect, I hope you can see. We were all quite concerned for him by then. After much pissing around and unlikely behaviour, he struck out and removed another Sörensen, hoping to draw Darren out of his shell. It didn't happen, unfortunately. He drew out the wrong one instead."

He tossed me another glance. I blinked back.

"Darren's uncle, yes? Arthur's brother. Now, my father, he made a terrible mistake."

He paused, turning a corner.

"Which was?" I carefully asked.

"He thought it was a good idea to get into a car, with a driver, who had just lost his last son. Two bitter old men, letting their lives be controlled by irrational anger. That crash took out the pair of them."

Driscoll's tone was unpleasant. I thought I saw a flash of that 'irrational anger' in his own eyes.

"... Do you want to 'remove' Darren?"

"Are you going to back out if I say yes?"

"I don't know." It was a very impulsive, very honest answer.

Driscoll grunted. "He's a queer, isn't he. His family line's dying out with him, with or without my help. This is something I would've left to rest, but when you give me this opportunity, I need to follow it up. On my father's honour. There's some unsettled business."

I offered some slow nods, watching buildings go past beyond the window.

"Now, Miss Lewis, your parents. What are you up for, to see to their wellbeing?"

"Anything."

"Then I think we better discuss how we can help each other."

*

Everything was going fast. I said I'd do something, and now had to live up to my word.

There was no bullshitting, no time wasted. Driscoll handed me over to some of his men. I was improvising, connecting dots with whatever I had. They were almost amused, watching me come up with my plan. Nobody intervened. They did as I said.

I didn't know what would happen if this didn't work.

I was put with a hit group of four men. By the evening we were driving to David's home town - two cars, and I rode in the backseat with the lead man's. I didn't know I could feel so empty, watching the world outside pass by on the motorway.

Maybe there was supposed to be some glimmer to it, something vaguely enjoyable to make it all worthwhile. Some spark of adventure. There had to be a reason why people chose to live these lives. I wasn't feeling it. There was no adventure to what I was doing. I wished I could feel bad about it. I wished I could feel anything at all. It was like all energy and emotion had been drained out of me, and all that was left was a quiet anger at myself.

I didn't want anything to do with this world. I thought I was walking away from it. Here I was, getting myself involved deeper than ever before.

The guys I was with, they seemed quite normal. They kept the cars connected with phones left on loud speakers during the drive, pissing around, overtaking each other on the motorway and bantering amongst themselves. They were just colleagues. Theirs was a job, like any other, unorthodox as it may be.

We stopped off somewere to get a takeaway. The lead man ordered on the phone, and sent me inside to pick it up with cash. They parked down a back road somewhere to eat, lounging around outside the cars, perching on the sides of seats through open doors, sitting on bonnets.

"Don't eat too much," one of them said to the youngest guy there. "You'll be fuckin' throwing up again."

He rolled his eyes and continued to stuff his face.

"Serious, man. We've only got a few hours."

"Shut up."

The lead man chuckled through his mouthful. "No pissin' about tonight, boys. Don't want to see any mistakes. This is the bloke who killed Kowiak."

The mirth faded into silence. I was mostly oblivious to their conversations anyway, poking at the food I had no appetite for.

We had to wait. The summer evening gradually grew into darkness. The group kept themselves entertained, talking about guns and knives like little boys, then demonstrating their combat techniques on each other. Which involved one taking a forward smack straight on the nose.

"Twat!" he barked, clutching his face.

The others roared with laughter, and the lead man sighed. "Fuckin' save it for Sörensen, boys."

I'd normally at least be smirking at witnessing such antics, but that night, nothing.

He checked the time. "Aight, let's get to the station."

I got back into the car, sat in silence. The driver door slammed shut and he looked over his seat at me.

"Which one, girlie? Central? West?"

"The Tilehurst one."

"Aight. Quieter around there, isn't it?"

I didn't reply.

Upon arrival he pulled up against the curb, and looked around at me again. "Right, you're on."

I stepped out onto the asphalt and walked towards the station's carpark. The air was muggy. I pulled my phone out, flicked through my contacts. My hand trembled, but I wasn't even aware that I was nervous.

The time at the top right of my screen said 00:36. No buses by now, right? Fuck, did it even matter?

I spotted a camera overlooking the carpark, and walked away from it, onto some grass. Leant against the trunk of a tree. Finally called the number on my screen.

It rang for a while. When he picked up he sounded very confused.

"Vi?"

"Tyler, I'm really sorry to call you like this. It's just, err..."

"What?"

"It's just, um." I needed to sound more upset. My tone was so bland. This wasn't going to work. "I, err, I've been an idiot."

"Why are you calling me?"

"I need you to pick me up. It's David. We had a huge argument." I needed to cry. I forced my breath to hitch. "I just, err... I've been an idiot. I'm at the station, I got the last train. Please, Tyler, I'm so sorry. I just... there's no buses going."

"Fucking hell."

"I'm sorry, I can walk if it's too much trouble." I was sniffing now, my eyes were watering. "Sorry, don't worry, I can-"

"No. Jesus, girl. I'll come get you."

I was certain no guy, not even one married to a man, wanted to hear a girl upset. It was called the waterworks for a reason, because it worked.

I sniffed again. "I'm so sorry."

"Look, I'll be like thirty minutes, all right?"

"Shall I walk to-"

"No, stay right where you are."

"Thank you."

I heard him mutter a 'Christ' as he took the phone away from his ear and hung up.

I wiped away the tear making its way down the side of my nose, briefly dabbed my eyes, got my breathing under control, then turned and headed back for the car.

The lead man watched me approach through his rolled window. "Aight?"

"He's coming," I replied.

"Good job. Do you know what car?"

"Um, his favourite one, it's a silver sports car. Chevrolet."

"What model? Camaro or Corvette?"

Shit. I'd heard them talk about cars so much and couldn't even remember. "Err, Camaro?"

He chuckled, finding something funny, but I didn't know what it was. "Aight."

"He might not bring that one, it might be another, a black Jaguar."

"I think we'll be able to spot him. You're done, girl. You're free to go. Just be on call incase in boss needs anything else, aight?"

"Okay."

I walked away from the car, hands in my jacket pockets, but didn't leave the scene just yet. My sick, morbid curiosity was too interested in seeing what happened. Seeing what I'd done.

---

David

Tyler was ringing me gone midnight.

"David, what the fuck?"

And he was using my name.

"What?" I asked, a little dazed.

"The fuck is going on there? You had some massive argument with Vi?"

"Mate, what?"

"I just had her fucking ringing me, crying, saying she's at the station. What the fuck is your problem, kid?"

My mind was screaming, I needed a moment to get my thoughts straight. "What... No, no, Tyler, no, we didn't have an argument. Well... like, not exactly."

"Kid."

"She fucking walked out on me to go see her parents. She was in a mood with me, I don't know why, she-"

"Well she's at the station now, and upset."

"For fuck sake." I was automatically moving around my room, looking for clothes. "How did she get your number?"

"I gave it to her, ages ago, when she was in the labs one time."

"Why the fuck didn't she call me? I can pick her up. What the fuck, Tyler?"

"Kid, I don't fucking know!" There were background noises from his end too, the slam of the cupboard where they kept their shoes. "I'm going to get her, anyways."

"Get me on the way, I'll be at the end of the rise."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"What?"

There was the slam of his front door. "I'm just saying. If she's in a mood with you, she can stop over here and you can see her tomorrow."

"She's not in a mood with me, she was in a mood with her parents, she just got moody with me because I tried to stop her going."

"Okay, whatever."

"Pick me up, Tyler."

"Yeah, I'll be there. Fuck my life."

He hung up and I raked my fingers through my hair. She wouldn't reply to my texts, but went calling Tyler? What had I done wrong? There was a sick knot in my stomach. I'd spent two days being pissed off, and equally helpless over all this shit.

I was tempted to take Mum's car and go on my own - if I left right then I'd arrive before Tyler - but Tyler was involved now, so might as well wait for him.

Light from Wesley's room showed through cracks in the doorframe. He was still up this late? I went downstairs as quietly as possible, and shut the front door as softly as possible.

I walked and waited at the end of the designated road. The sound of Tyler's car sounded through the darkness not more than a minute later, roaring above the speed limit. Good timing. The headlights were needlessly bright and I squinted against it, moving around to the passenger door.

I sat down while Tyler gave me a look to match his tone on the phone - that I was a dickhead, who'd been a cunt to my girlfriend. For fuck sake, I wasn't in the wrong over this. I wasn't.

"Is this your first argument?" he asked, stepping on the accelerator again.

"No. Not really."

"So what's so bad about her seeing her parents? Are they pricks to her or something?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just..." I watched the road ahead, bathed in the headlights. I wasn't sure what to say, if I should say anything. I couldn't do what Violet did, I couldn't keep things locked up in my head. It ate away at me. "Her parents are involved in some shit."

"Like what?"

I paused again. There were red lights ahead, the back of a car pulled up on the curb. "Like- Hey, woah!" The car turned out in front of us at a sharp ninety degree angle.

Tyler slammed on the brakes. There was still a collision. My body jerked and slammed against the seatbelt. I was surprised by how loud the crunch of metal was.

... What the fuck?

We sat there in silence against the chugging engine of the car. I swallowed and looked around at Tyler. His expression was equally shocked, staring ahead, but slowly turning into a snarl.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

The car in front reversed away, showing the dent in its side. Tyler snapped his door open, getting out like he was ready to punch the driver into the floor.

I got out as well, leaning an elbow on the roof of the car. There was the slam of a shut door and a man appeared in front. Tyler stood his ground, holding his arms out in challenge.

"What the fuck? You didn't see me, huh? What you playing at, turning out like that?"

The man didn't look bothered. "Mister Sörensen."

Tyler paused, his glare faded, his arms dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Sörensen."

There was a prickle in the air. Tyler's head gave the slightest tilt. "Who?"

"Don't bullshit me. I know your face."

I could feel my brow furrowing, some sort of glare forming. My instincts were reading a lot from Tyler's body language, even if my conscious thoughts were behind.

The two stared at each other for a long second. Tyler was entering a fight or flight mode. He decided on the latter, suddenly jerking back for the car.

"Kid-"

The man lunged in nothing short of a flash, stopping the car door from shutting. He grabbed Tyler by the collar, ripped him out of the seat, and threw him onto the floor.

A fist smacked into my face - a second man had crept up around the car. I staggered back with a rush of adrenaline, managed to dodge the second swing, and retaliated with an uppercut of my own.

A guttural noise erupted from Tyler's throat, pumping me with a second burst of adrenaline.

I had no fucking idea what was happening.

Some quiet, sane part of my brain was wondering why these men were so pissed off about a small crash, while my body desperately tried to fend off my attacker.

He hailed me with punches. Some hit, some didn't. I swung back in an alien state, being forced to fight without having it triggered by my anger first. I landed something heavy that got a reaction, then there was a second guy.

He wrestled with me, slammed me against the side of the car. My shoes scraped against the asphalt, trying to get a grip, trying to fight back. I threw all the weight in my body, twisting and turning, got his fists out of my clothing, and staggered away.

Putting that distance between myself and those two men, it struck me. I could run. I could put everything Violet had taught me to use, and escape. There was no way they could catch me.

But that meant backing down from a fight. And more importantly, that meant leaving Tyler.

I wasn't doing either of those things.

So I lunged straight back into the fray. It was a chaotic, scrambling mess. There were voices and shouts from the other side of the car, and a sharp sound. Someone's head cracked the window of the driver's door. It wasn't Tyler's. Was he winning?

Sometimes, all it takes is one punch. A fist struck me perfectly in the temple. The kind of hit that wasn't fucking around. The hit that's only purpose was to incapacitate. Like how Tyler hit me in the kitchen that time.

I blacked out for a split second. When I came back my body was tumbling, grabbing against the dented bonnet to steady myself. The guy laughed.

I'll always remember that laugh. How he waited, giving me a moment, wanting me to keep fighting back. "Did that fuckin' hurt ya, mate?"

If he wanted to make me angry, it worked. His eyes were alive with violence. I wanted to smack every expression off his face, but injuries were taking effect. I was dizzy, almost sluggish. Every heavy hit I managed didn't matter because I didn't know where to land them. There's having the strength of a bear, and actually knowing what to do with it.

The reality is that I didn't know how to fight. Nobody had taught me, because I was never supposed to be violent.

These guys knew, and they demonstrated it with every aimed punch at my head, the blow to my sternum that felt like my heart stopped, knocking the breath out of me while I choked and gasped. They worked in perfect union to take me down. I was pinned against the car's bonnet, hit again and again, but I wouldn't stop struggling.

There was a sound that stopped me. The sound of a silenced pistol.

Tyler was on the floor. Was he shot?

Shit.

He pushed up on an arm, slowly, like he was in a lot of pain. He glared up at the man aiming the firearm at him. I was looking for the blood on his clothing.

"Stop pissin' around," the man spat. "Or second one don't miss."

The body pinning me lifted, but fists grabbed in my clothing and a hand closed around the back of my neck, digging its fingers in. I wasn't done, and they knew it.

The man slammed the butt of the gun into Tyler's head, knocking him clean to the floor. He kicked him in the stomach. And again, harder, knocking him onto his back with a wheeze and cough of pain. He kept kicking.

He was down. Stop. Stop.

I snapped free from my restraints, slamming into the armed man. He staggered, nearly fell, and shoved me back with a roar of anger.

"Fuckin' control him!"

The hands were on my arms again, tugging me around while I resisted. The muzzle of the gun slammed into my chest. I froze. My body wanted to keep struggling, to fight, but a screaming survival instinct held me still.

The man sneered at me, eyes darting as though making a conscious effort to remember the features of my face. He shoved the silenced muzzle into me again, then stepped back, wiping some blood away from his nose with the back of his hand.

"Fuckin' aggressive one, isn't he?"

"God," I heard Tyler wheeze. "Leave the kid out of this."

"Sorry. Can't."

"Fuck you!"

The butt of the gun struck me in the head. It was a sharp pain, but not much else. The second hit was dizzying, and I felt my mind starting to separate from my body. The third hit must've got me.

---

Violet

Blood thundered in my ears.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I was stupid beyond comprehension.

It took all my strength to stay where I was, not rush out into the scene. What could I fucking do? I was surprised by the fight they put up, but they didn't stand a chance.

Shit. Shit. David was not part of this deal. For fuck sake, Tyler, why did you bring him? You fucking prick.

I should've said more on the phone. Made it more specific. I should've... not fucking done this.

The youngest man got into Tyler's car to take it with them. The lead man gave a glance around, then got behind his own wheel. I had no doubt people from the nearby houses had heard things, maybe watched out their windows. Police would be called. I sank further into the shadows.

I felt like I was going to be sick. Something cold gripped around my heart.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 07



I... didn't know what to do. Driscoll had my parents, and now I'd given him my boyfriend. What did I have left?

Why did I think Tyler deserved this? Darren.

Amelia and Zack. Their son.

What was I doing?

My shell was breaking. I couldn't do this. I didn't want to. I had to think. My legs were already carrying me. Think, think.

I couldn't go to Darren. How could I explain? I didn't even know exactly where his house was, or how to get there. If I had known this whole plan might've been less messy.

I knew where David's house was. Even if I didn't have the roads perfectly mapped in my head, I'd find it. I had to.

Zack. He had to understand. He had to help.

Run, run. It was all about getting from one place to another, as fast as possible. I didn't know how much time I had before Driscoll was calling me. My feet pounded the concrete while I tried to stay on top of my breathing.

This road, yes, no? No, don't turn off here. Further down. Does this alley come out where I think it does?

It felt like I was running for an hour. When I finally reached that driveway I couldn't breathe, my whole body was trembling. I staggered up to the front door and pounded it with my fist. Pounded again. And again. Come on, fuck. I tried to swallow over my dry throat, still getting air into my lungs, and pushed the letterbox open. I shouted that it was me, to please open the door.

A light came on, the door opened. A scowling, tired, and very hairy Zack stood there, in nothing but boxers and a bathrobe draped over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

I pushed past him, still taking deep but slowed pants, going straight for the lounge.

"Violet."

He knew something was wrong, didn't he? He was reading it on me straight away.

I didn't even know what to say. Where to start.

For a moment we just stood there, staring. There was no logical pattern in my thoughts and words started coming out.

"Driscoll," I said.

His bemused expression got worse.

"Driscoll," I repeated. "Do you know the name?"

"Why would I know it?"

"Because you used to be in a fucking drug gang."

And there it was. The dark glare.

"Do you know it?" I said. There wasn't time for this.

"If I do?"

"For fuck sake, Zack, I've done something bad. I've done something really bad."

"Where is David?" he growled. "He left about an hour ago. I figured it was something to do with you."

I stood in an awkward silence, swallowing.

"What's going on?" Amelia's voice asked. She came up beside Zack, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, eyes squinting against the light with tiredness.

All the rush of emotion I'd had before, and now I was going numb again. "Driscoll," I said again.

"Are we thinking the same 'Driscoll'?" Zack asked.

"The family that runs a branch of the market?"

I wondered if Zack felt the numbness I did, when his eyes went empty like that. Where he was looking 'through' me, like his mind was too busy to concentrate.

"He's got my parents, he's ransoming them. I ended up meeting with him because I needed to do something to help. He's got some sort of fuckin' family feud with Darren?"

Zack's eyes widened, so did Amelia's.

"We made a deal. I get my parents out if I draw Darren out for him."

"What?" I'm not sure what I'd been expecting. That Zack would just calmly take the news in his stride? No, he was reacting. He was bristling. There was an explosion of energy filling the room. "What've you done?"

"I... I called up Tyler and asked him to pick me up at the station."

"And that's where David went?"

"Yes."

Amelia's face disappeared behind her hands. Zack just kept staring at me, waiting for more information.

I swallowed and gave a slight nod, like I was confirming his worst fears. "They've got them."

He... I saw him coming and couldn't will myself to react. His hand closed around my throat, my whole body slammed into the wall. My head knocked.

"Zack!" Amelia barked.

The hand wasn't squeezing. It was a threat, but he wasn't that far gone yet. I clutched at his massive forearm, spring and tension building up in the lower half of my body. I didn't know what I'd do if I had to fight him, but I'd do something.

"Why do they have your parents? Who are they to them?"

"They're in a drug gang."

We stared.

"Zack," Amelia said again, in a surprisingly low tone. "Let her go."

He released me, but stayed where he stood. He wanted to snap my neck, he wanted to break me in half. Everything about his posture said it.

"Driscoll's going to call me," I said. "Probably soon. I... I don't know what's going to happen."

His silence was more unnerving than any words he could say.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't know why... I did this. I came to you because, you might be able to fix this. We have to do something-"

"We?"

That did it. Okay, this was happening, he was going for me. Pure reflexes moved me and I staggered away while he swept after me.

"What have you led here?" Zack boomed. "Who's about to knock on the door, huh?"

"No, no-" He lunged and I dodged again. "I haven't, I'm not-"

"Zack!"

It probably looked ridiculous, but when is anger ever rational? He knocked over an armchair to get at me, I was practically running across the room to get away from him. It wasn't going to be funny if he got a hold of me.

Steps were thundering down the stairs. When I was cornered Amelia intercepted. She bumped into Zack's whole front, and he stopped. She stood there, forehead against his chest, hands against his stomach, but I didn't trust it. I didn't trust that he wouldn't hit her. He was so riled up.

Wesley burst through the door in a similar state of undress, eyes darting to take in the situation. The state of Zack, Amelia's dangerous position, me trapped where I was.

"What's going on... Dad, stop. Stop."

Zack wouldn't take his eyes off me.

Wesley briefly met my gaze, so many things flickering across his expression.

"Dad, you've got to stop."

He had to get his shit together. We didn't have time for this. The knowledge that Driscoll was going to call was a nagging urgency inside me, building up into frustration. I wasn't the enemy. Zack, for fuck sake.

"You know what?" I surged forward, fucking shoved Amelia out of the way, and took her place. "Hit me."

She staggered and her breath hitched.

"You're angry, yeah? Fucking hit me."

Wesley's hands clasped at his head, as if he was about to watch a trainwreck.

I put my hands on Zack's stomach and shoved, like I'd done to David more than enough times. I managed to make him take a step back.

"Vi-" Wes started.

"Oh my God-"

"Fucking kill me and then what?"

Zack's hand grasped the side of my head. He gave a push that almost threw me to the floor, but spun and swung his fist at the wall, a thud to make the whole house shake. It left a hole in the plaster.

"He's gonna fucking call!" I continued as I staggered. "If he calls, and I have to go... If I don't, if he suspects something's up, if he thinks... He's gonna kill Tyler, he's gonna kill David, he'll kill my parents, he'll kill everyone!"

Zack's only response was a cry of anger.

"We have to do something, have to figure something out before-"

"Mum!" Hanna's shrill voice shrieked from elsewhere in the house. "Are they fighting? Mum!"

Amelia made to bolt for the door but Wesley beat her to it.

Zack just stood there, staring at me in agony, like I was proof of everything wrong with the world. It wasn't just the anger, there was so much hurt in his expression. Like he stared down a nightmare.

I was it. I was his nightmare. The destructive thing that had slipped in beneath his nose. I could tear everything apart, destroy everything he cared for, ruin everything he had ever worked for. He didn't know what to do, with me, with what I had done.

"He's gonna call." I just kept saying that, not even realising how panicked I was. And I couldn't fucking believe it when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I winced, it was like a jolt through my body.

Time's up.

"Please, oh God... Don't say anything. Stay silent. Please. Don't fuck this up."

They both watched me as I pulled the phone out, and answered it. I put it on loud speaker. If Wesley came bursting back in right now...

"Lass, where are you?"

I swallowed. "Where do you want me to be?"

He chuckled. "Good answer. Now, I understand Alex just left you there. Not his smoothest, he'll be back for you. You'll be answering to him for the rest of the night, so this is the last you'll be hearing from me until further notice. I just wanted to personally congratulate you on a job well done."

"Yes. Thank you."

"You sound like you're finding this difficult? I understand my men picked up an extra."

"Yes."

"Is it your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Ouch. Need I remind you how important your co-operation is?"

Amelia clasped a hand over her mouth. Zack's expression didn't change.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "We're not done yet."

"No. You need to be on call. No nodding off somewhere. Alex'll be calling you soon. I'll be busy. Take care, Mum and Dad are holding on for you."

He hung up and my whole posture sagged. We still had more time. I took a few deep breaths while looking at the floor, then moved my gaze up to Zack and Amelia.

"You need to start from the beginning," Amelia said, in that low tone. "You need to explain everything that's gotten to this point."

Despite how upset she was, there was intelligence in her eyes. She, Zack - and I was certain Tyler, too - they all knew what this shady stuff with Darren was.

---

David

I have no idea what woke me up. With the unbearable, splitting pain in my skull, I'd rather not have done. Staying out cold would've been fine.

The floor was hard, wherever I was. My cheek was against something softer, sorta rough... jeans? I stirred and felt a hand on my head, brushing my hair back.

"Kid."

I gripped Tyler's thigh to push myself up. Everything hurt. My head was throbbing. My vision swam. Being touched was the last thing I wanted, but Tyler cupped my cheek and I winced. He frowned, looking me over, and I was able to focus my eyes on holding his gaze.

I wasn't fully with it.

There was a loud slamming sound. I felt like it might not have been the first. Maybe what woke me up? I didn't know where we were. Indoors somewhere. What was it, some giant garage? There was a stink of oil.

Voices. Men coming over. I couldn't tell how many, there just seemed to be so many footsteps.

"Well done, lads," one said. "You got a Sörensen. It's the wrong fucking one!"

Laughter rang out. A man crouched down infront of us while the others stood around. He had a massive, cheerful grin on his face, making lines around his eyes. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, in a white shirt and black trousers, like he'd just dressed down from a suit.

"The boy's awake, that's nice. Constitution of an ox, lad. Good job."

I just blinked and frowned at him. He gave my shoulder a pat, then his eyes shifted away from me.

"Now, Tyler." He waved a phone out. Tyler's phone. "Would you do us a favour, and unlock this? Can't figure it out from your grease prints. We need to make a call to the mister."

Tyler gave him a blank and empty stare.

"Tyler. I don't want to be more persuasive. Unlock it, please."

I didn't know how to feel as I watched Tyler take it and move his fingers across the screen.

The man grinned again, flicking through its contacts. "Thank you." He stood straight and gave a gesture for Tyler to get to his feet, but he didn't comply. Another grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. I flinched, legs suddenly very close to knocking into me.

"What's a normal morning like, Tyler? When do you get up? Seven?" He was copying what I assumed to be Darren's number into his own phone before making any sort of call. "Poor husband, went to bed with no idea that you never came home, eh?"

Tyler still wasn't talking. I felt like I was going to vomit, but held it down.

The man held the phone to his ear, smirking. It rang out to voicemail. He patiently cancelled it and called again.

Darren's voice was audible when he finally picked up. Probably still half asleep. "Ty?"

"Mister Sörensen. I'm terribly sorry to be calling at this ungodly hour, but you might notice that the other half of the bed is quite empty right now. That's because Tyler's here with us."

There was a long pause. "What?"

The man kept smirking and didn't offer a response.

"What's going on? Who is this?"

"I think you know exactly who this is. It's been a while."

"No, I don't know you. What do you want?"

"Calm down. First, I wanted to let you know that Tyler is quite all right. He's here. Would you like to talk to him?"

Darren said nothing. The man held the phone out and Tyler said nothing.

"Come on, Tyler. Let the hubby know you're all right."

He glared at him, and didnt speak.

"Tyler, I don't think your tantrumming silence is doing much to make Darren feel better."

Still nothing.

"All right." His foot flashed out and kicked Tyler in the balls.

Shit. The following scoff and wheeze of pain was unmistakably Tyler. He almost doubled over, but the guy with his fists in his clothing stopped him, holding him up.

"Don't touch him," Darren's voice snapped.

"I'll be touching him a lot more if you give us trouble, Darren."

"What do you want?"

"You just hold tight and be patient. I'll be in contact again soon. Oh yes, please don't get up to any funny business. We seem to have your nephew here, also."

"What?"

Tyler finally spoke, still strained from the kick. "It's me and the kid, Darren."

There was silence from the phone again.

"All right," the shirt-guy declared. "We'll speak again soon. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation." He hung up and waved the phone at Tyler again, but not to hand it over. "I hope there's nothing on this you'll miss. We'll have to have it destroyed. Tracking and that."

Tyler just gave him another one of those looks. He was shoved back to the floor by the man holding him.

"I don't understand you people," the man in the shirt continued. "If you weren't so hyper aggressive, this," he gestured between Tyler and I, "could all be avoided."

"What?" Tyler asked. "I started this?" He pointed to one of the men, the one who'd ripped him out of the seat, the one who'd had the gun. "This dickhead."

There were chuckles. Someone else crouched in front of me, offering what looked nothing more than a bottle of water. I didn't trust it, I scowled. His brow rose and he offered it again. His face... it was a guy I'd been fighting, at the car. I didn't understand, but I took the bottle, fumbled with the lid, and downed half its contents. My throat was sore.

Tyler's voice was still bouncing with the man in the shirt, who was studying him with interest. He crouched down again, clasping his hands together.

"You're the man who killed Bartkowiak."

Whatever Tyler was about to say next, he didn't. The man grinned, drawing a finger across his throat with an added sound effect.

"Yeah-"

"Kowiak was a good man."

"I beg to differ," Tyler replied.

They laughed again.

"Boss. I told you 'bout this guy."

I studied the side of Tyler's face, the perpetual snarl he seemed to wear. I was still trying to make sense of what had happened, I couldn't process anything else. There'd been a fight. Which we'd lost. We'd been abducted? What in the fuck. This was potentially a life or death situation, and Tyler was... being Tyler. Mouthing off to our captors.

I was gonna die.

My head was hurting so fucking much. The water wasn't sitting well in my stomach.

"Get up," the boss said, cutting through the mirth of Tyler's audacious quipping and the men's laughter. "We're moving. Boy, can you stand?"

Oh God, I didn't know. Tyler hooked an arm around me and helped me up. The world spun. Anything I focused my eyes on went blurry. We were walking, I could do that. A car door opened and Tyler guided me inside. I scooted over and he joined me, then another got in with pistol in his hand.

"Tyler," the boss said, leaning through the door. "No funny business. We can be civilised, all right?"

"Right."

I knew I wasn't supposed to sleep with a concussion, but I'm pretty sure I blacked out again. I don't remember anything of the drive.

---

Violet

I was trapped on the sofa. Trapped, because through all of the talking, Zack hadn't calmed down in the slightest. He paced, and bristled, and growled. If I moved, he'd attack.

Wesley was terrified of him. Hanna had been up but ordered back to bed.

It wasn't really going well.

I had an awkward minute or so alone with Wesley and Amelia while Zack disappeared to get dressed. We didn't say anything. Amelia looked at me with a strange expression, like she wanted to feel sorry for me, but couldn't. Wesley stared at his hands.

When Zack returned his demeanour had changed ever so slightly. He was starting to decide on things, plan on some course of action. It was either a good or a bad thing when very shortly after, somewhere around 5am, Darren called.

"Darren," Zack started into his panicked blathering. "Darren... I know... Darren."

"You know? What the fuck is going on?"

"You're not gonna like this. We've got a mole."

"No!" I barked. I wasn't 'working' for Driscoll. I thought we'd made that clear.

"What? Zack, where are you?"

"At home, with Violet. She did this."

"What? ... I'm coming there."

"No, you need to call the police."

"What, so they can take me in again?"

"Darren, for fuck sake."

"I'm coming there."

"No, stay there."

"I'm not staying in this house another fucking second."

He hung up on Zack, who tried to call again, but it went to voicemail. Darren cut it off on the second attempt. Zack threw his phone onto a chair, glaring at me with renewed anger.

A lot of things were my fault that night, but Darren's stubborn nature was not.

He must've sped the whole way, because he arrived fast, letting himself in through the door. He looked paler than usual, tense and stressed.

We had to go through everything, all over again. I was already getting sick of it, yet I knew there was nothing to do until I received my next orders from Alex.

Darren's icy stare was as piercing as ever, but he couldn't seem to muster any anger behind it. He looked like I'd ripped his heart out and stamped on it. A choked "Why?" was all he asked.

Zack had a way of triggering me and making me defensive, but the agony in Darren's stance made me ashamed. I couldn't look at him. "I do things," I quietly replied. "And I don't think first."

Amongst everything happening in that moment, Zack and Darren's energies were clashing. They weren't arguing yet, but it was close.

"They're going to kill Tyler," Darren said. The blunt defeat in his voice riled up Zack. He growled, but Darren cut him off before he said anything. "What? Am I wrong? Dad, Andy, Marcus, Vince." He didn't blink, but his hand waved. "Why in God's name are they going to leave my husband alive?"

"Then they're also going to kill my son," Zack snapped.

"Oh God," Amelia whispered.

Wesley was sitting with elbows on knees, head in his hands. His voice was quiet, but it cut into the silence. "Can somebody please explain what the fuck is going on?"

They looked between each other.

"Wes," Amelia finally started. "We can't. Not right now."

"Why?"

"It's just... it's not safe." She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Wes. I need you to take Hanna, and go to your grandparents'."




Hornet's Nest Ch. 08



---

David

Tyler slapped my cheek a few times to bring me to.

"Kid. Kid."

I shoved his hand away and buried my face into his shoulder. I was awake, damn it.

"You gonna walk? I might have a bit of trouble carrying you."

Still drowsy and lethargic, I managed to get out of the car. I wasn't in such excruciating pain, I felt a little more like myself. I wanted to figure out what was going on. I tried to pay attention to everything.

It was early morning. Summertime brightness could be misleading. The surroundings were... a carpark, of sorts. Trees. Birds. Was it an office building?

Our 'escort' led us inside. So long as we weren't giving them trouble, they weren't giving us trouble, but a hand on my back still gave an irritating shove.

My head hurt, but it was bearable. As soon as we were indoors it became clear that the building was abandoned. It wasn't in a terrible state, there wasn't shit everywhere or tons of broken windows. It was simply very empty, and smelt stale.

We scaled a stairwell up numerous levels. There were more people there, reacting when we arrived as though they'd been expecting us. So many faces of strangers merged together in one big blur in my mind. It was almost possible to forget what was going on, except that the guy behind me casually had a Glock in his hand.

"A Sörensen?" one asked.

"Yeah, sorta," another replied.

"Ch'ya mean sorta?"

"It's the spouse."

"Oh, right, he's a fag, ain't he?" His eyes moved to Tyler. "So you's like the wife?"

Tyler's eyebrow rose. "Yeah, I do the cooking and cleaning and stuff."

One burst with laughter.

"Jeez, don't encourage him," another snapped. "He doesn't shut up."

"And what's the kid?"

"Sörensen's nephew."

I was stared at, but he didn't speak to me. "So boss is happy?"

"Yeah."

"Well, put 'em away."

They needed to talk and do their 'work', or whatever. We were ushered away behind a door, into a very empty looking office. "No funny business," a voice reminded us.

Someone leant against the shut door, his back visible through the narrow rectangular window. There were faint murmurs and tones of voices through the building's soundproofing.

Tyler went straight over to the window while I sagged against a wall.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Somewhere around London."

I slid down to the floor. "How high is it?"

Tyler grunted and his forehead thudded the glass. "Fifty feet? We're not getting out through the window, kid."

I felt like saying, that from what Violet had taught me, I actually thought I'd be able to make my way to the ground unharmed. But my mind was more focused on other things - what had happened to Violet?

We'd never turned up. Had she realised something was wrong? Done something about it? We'd been very close to the station when we'd been jumped. Maybe she'd heard something, maybe she'd seen it?

"Tyler," I said, but he didn't turn from the window straight away. "What's going on?"

There was a silence with no response.

"Tyler," I growled.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"Why do I have to be the fucking one to tell you this?"

"I'm fucking sorry?"

He finally turned from the window, rubbed his eyes, and gave me an empty stare.

"Tyler."

"This wasn't something that was supposed to affect your life. Ever."

There was another pause, then I snapped, "It kinda has, hasn't it?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Tell me what the fuck is going on."

He came and sat next to me, tossing a glance at the door. To my further annoyance, he didn't start explaining, but instead grabbed my jaw to check me over again.

"I'm fine," I said.

The pain in my head was mostly localised to one point, rather than the all over throbbing that felt like my brain grated against sandpaper. His fingers touched that point and I winced. My hair was matted with blood, but it was dry.

"Is my skull split open?"

"Nah, you're okay." He sighed, and his expression was ridden with guilt. "I'm sorry, kid."

"Please tell me what's going on."

"Okay, but look, just listen. Listen and don't say shit, okay?"

"Okay."

"All this shit, everything, is because of Darren's father. He got himself involved with some criminals, the black market, and did some stupid things. We've never known exactly what. Whatever he did, he took it with him to his grave. He did die in a car crash, kid, but it was because he was attacked and shot while driving."

"... Okay."

"Darren's eldest cousin was killed by these pricks for being involved, or whatever."

"He was murdered?"

"Yes. That was it for a long time, kid, but they came back eventually. Do you remember when your dad had that broken rib? That was because of this. These people were trying to get to Darren, but your dad was there. I mean, it's your dad, he figured out they were shady, he pissed them off, and they attacked him."

I scowled.

"And you remember when I totaled my car, kid? That was because of this. They attacked me and Darren on the street. We, well... We got away, but they chased and fucking smashed into me. That's why I crashed."

It was giving me a headache to scowl any further. It was absolute absurdity. Tyler was rushing through a lot of information, and it wasn't really sinking in.

"Police were all up in the air after that," he continued. "We thought it was over. It was, for a while. But, when you were like, ten, or something? Do you remember when me and Darren went on that sudden holiday? We didn't go on holiday, the fucking police took us in for protection. These pricks killed Marcus."

"You told me he moved to Sweden."

"No, he's fucking dead, kid."

Holy shit. "... And after that?"

"The police took in Vincent, too. But he got out somehow, because the police are fucking stupid. Next thing we know, he's died in a car crash. And in that crash with him, was a body that the police eventually identified as 'Brendan Driscoll'. Some big shot in the black market. So, apparently, that was who had been giving Darren shit all that fucking time."

I stared at the floor. "So Vincent didn't die from a heart attack, huh?"

"No. I dunno, it just seemed pretty ridiculous to say someone else died in a car crash. You'd get a damn phobia of cars."

"What about the cousin who died in Darren's Lambo crash? Was that because of this?"

"Oh... No." Tyler smirked. "That was all Darren, kid. But, other than that, yeah, these fucking cunts slowly killed Darren's whole family."

There was a pause of silence. I listened to the muffled tones of the conversation going on outside the door. It was a lot to take in, and not exactly explaining why we were there right now, either.

My voice was quiet. "Why did you never tell me this?"

"Why would we tell you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Kid. Give me one good fucking reason why we would ever tell you this shit?"

"Because I'm a part of this family and I deserve to know?"

"Hey, maybe when you were old enough. Guess you're old enough, now. Congratulations."

I clasped my forehead. "You killed someone?"

Tyler didn't instantly reply, choosing to stare at the opposite wall instead. "... Yeah. In self defence, when they attacked me and Darren on the street."

I sat in silence to try and process that. It was too much to take in. Trying to think about these things happening, not only before my existence, but going on after I was born. They'd certainly sheltered me from it. Sometimes I found it hard to think about normal stories involving my parents or uncles, to imagine they'd ever once been something else other than happily married adults, and this was something else.

It just wasn't working in my head.

He was Tyler, my uncle. My dad's best friend, my mum's biggest friendly rival, with the funny and loud mouth, where nobody actually meant it when we told him to shut up. We couldn't live without him, his cheeky grins and boyish excitement, his energy and love for life. He never offered to help because he expected you to handle yourself, and yet if you ever asked, he'd go to the ends of the earth for you.

He filled hundreds, if not thousands, of my happy childhood memories. He'd always been there. And he was a murderer. Maybe I was really emotionally soft, but I just wasn't finding that an easy piece of news.

Everybody else must have known - Darren, Mum and Dad. And apparently, they weren't bothered.

Tyler was giving me a look, as if everything I thought was all far too obvious on my face. "You want gory details, kid?"

"No," I snapped. "Fuck you."

"It was one of these dickheads, kid. I didn't go murdering some fucking innocent on the street. If someone pulled a knife on you, stabbed you, wouldn't you do it?"

I didn't know. I'd never had to think something like that before. I'd been threatened by enough kids during school years, with their shitty attitudes and gobby mouths - 'Mate, I'll fuckin' cut you!' - and yet never thought about what I'd do if it actually happened.

Probably because I knew the answer on a gut level.

Tyler pulled up his shirt. "This one," he said, tapping his fingers on the scar one side of his stomach, "is where the cunt stabbed me. And this," he gestured to the scarred line the other side, "yes, they did cut me open to get at my kidney, and you know why it actually was? To get a bullet out of it. Where I was fucking shot."

"Okay, and what about that one?" He had a scar on his forehead that went through his left eyebrow.

"That was from a time with your dad." He frowned at me. "Jesus, kid. Did you get like this with your dad?"

It might have been the most genuinely innocent, clueless "What?" I ever asked. There was a brief flash to Tyler's expression, and the room went so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

I wasn't an idiot, and my mind raced to try piece it together. "... You mean Dad killed someone?"

"He didn't tell you? He told you everything, but left that out? Zack, you prick. You fucking prick."

"Holy shit."

"Yes, kid, he fucking shot someone dead while we were out on a run."

"A run?"

He studied me for a few seconds. "He really hasn't told you shit, has he?"

"He has told me stuff, I guess not everything."

"Stupid prick."

I scowled at Tyler and felt strangely defensive over my father. I'd seen how difficult and painful he'd found it before.

Tyler leant against my shoulder and massaged his eyelids in exhaustion. "I don't want to talk about this with you, kid."

"No, don't."

"Ask your dad when we get out, yeah?"

"Are we getting out? What the fuck is going on? Why are we here?"

He let out a long sigh. "I don't know, kid." He rubbed his head where he had his own bruises and cuts. "I don't fucking know. It's a hornet's nest." He slouched further, resting against my shoulder and chest with his eyes closed. "It's probably Vi."

"What?"

"You said her parents are involved in some shit? She goes acting funny, disappears, comes back, calls me in the middle of the fucking night, then some people who know who I am are perfectly there to jump me? Okay, kid. Keep being blind."

"No, her parents aren't part of this stuff. They're in a drug gang."

He grunted. "Like fuckin' Zack?"

"Yeah, like Dad. It's not this 'black market' shit."

"Kid, I'm sorry to say, but the drug trade falls under 'black market'."

His voice had gotten grumbly and quieter. My heart thudded against my ribs and I felt sick.

"Kid, I just need to sleep a bit."

"Tyler."

"What."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm shitting myself."

"You don't sound it."

He grunted again. "I'm scared about Darren."

"Why?"

"Because, what you don't know about him, is that he's a fucking idiot."

I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to. My mind raced in panicked circles.

---

Violet

The hit group was down to two men and one car. The undamaged car, and the undamaged men. Alex had a bruise showing up beneath an eye, but it wasn't too bad or obvious. I wondered who'd given it to him - David, or Tyler?

They were upbeat and cheerful, despite the long night. I guess things were going well for them. Both looked sleep deprived, but both seemed fine with surviving on caffeine.

We went into a Starbucks of all places. Questionable things were casually left beneath the passenger seat in the car, but I kept my jacket with me. We looked quite ordinary. The pair of them were in polo shirts and jeans, and the younger guy had sunglasses hooked into his collar.

"Wanna borrow?" he asked Alex. "Hide that black eye o' yours."

Alex responded with a tut.

They bantered away about football while we sat eating croissants and drinking coffee. One nearby man, with tattoos all up his arm, kept looking in our direction. I wondered why. Did he just 'sense' something wrong? Was he questioning why I was in their company?

In all honesty, I think Alex took a few shots flirting with me. I wasn't responsive to it. Even on a good day, under any other possible circumstances, he was a little old for me. Thirty-something at least.

A dick move of him, anyways, since he was quite aware of my status. Once we were back in the car he tossed me a look while reversing out of the parking space.

"Sorry 'bout your boyfriend, love."

"He wasn't supposed to get caught up in this," I replied in an honest blurt.

"Yeah, shit happens. He was a fierce fuckin' bastard. We had to knock him out for his own good."

"He would've made mince meat of Mikey's face if I wasn't there," Lee said.

The mere thought that either of these had hurt David was enough to make me toxic, let alone what I'd watched. I contained it.

"Uh-huh," Alex agreed, trying to turn out into a busy rush-hour road.

"And the Sörensen guy nearly put Ben's head through that window."

Alex snorted. "I fuckin' told you boys not to piss around. Girlie, your boyfriend's probably gonna be fine, so long as mister Sörensen don't go giving boss trouble. It's important for you to help keep him amiable once we pick him up, yeah?"

"I know," I said.

"Boss is normally fair, but he's got a really short temper."

"He's fucking batty," Lee said.

"No he ain't. Fuckin' hell, Lee."

"Aight, he's not as bad as his dad."

"He might've lost his marbles a bit at the end but he weren't always like that."

"Boss pisses around a lot."

"Yeah, sometimes, but he gets results. What's problem?"

"More work for us?"

"You've got a fuckin' horrible work ethic, mate. You hardly knew Brendan. He'd have you fucking shot."

"Yeah, 'cause he lost his marbles."

My phone had vibrated with a text while in the Starbucks, but I hadn't checked it. With them busy bantering again, I decided to, not really thinking whether they'd notice me or not.

They did notice. Alex's eyes were on the rearview mirror. "What's that?"

"My friend," I replied in my most bored tone, which wasn't actually hard to pull off. "She wants to know if I'm going to town later." I vacantly raised my brows as I thumbed a response on the screen. "Have to tell her I'm a bit busy."

"Yeah," Alex chuckled. "I'll say."

The text was from Zack, warning me of an anonymous call I would be receiving sometime soon.

Everything depended on these people not having any reason to suspect me, on them staying completely blind to the idea that I might not be as obedient as they thought. I kept being treated with bipolar extremes. One minute they expected me to be savvy and performing smoothly, the next they thought I was a clueless teenaged girl.

There were bits of truth in both.

It might have been time to play up the clueless side a little. Try to display some insecurities.

I leant forward, against the back of the driver's seat. "Alex," I started.

"Yes, love?"

"When this is all done, Driscoll is gonna let my parents go, right?"

"He's a man of his word."

"I'm just... I dunno. I'm nervous."

"Yeah, I know. Just do what you have to do. There's no reason for anything to go wrong. Especially if you help in keeping Sörensen amiable..."

"I know. It's just, he can be really stubborn."

"It's all gonna be fine."

"When are we picking him up?"

"Soon." He lifted a hand to give my cheek an affectionate pat.

My impulsive reaction was to recoil from his touch, but I didn't. If he was going to be friendly with me, might as well be friendly back.

*

I found myself dumped out on a street once again, and they drove off. I had to wait for Darren. He'd been told where to go.

I felt like I was reaching a point where I was so tired I stopped caring. Being in that state put me at risk of impulses so much more. I didn't want to make any animalistic mistakes, whatever they may be.

So I sat on a wall beside the road and scrolled through my phone, re-reading text conversations I'd had with David, trying to ground myself back to reality. It was stirring something in me, but getting emotional wasn't making me feel much better.

I heard a car pull up on the curb in front of me. My eyes moved over the black door that opened. Darren stepped out, fully dressed in his suit. His head turned, tossing a few glances about our surroundings, before stepping over to me.

"You're alone?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Are you wired or anything?"

Because I'd say yes if I was, right? I tilted my head at him, at his stupid question. "No. Are you?"

He shook his head. "Zack and Lia are dealing with the police."

"They just let you come?"

"Nobody let me do shit, I got out of there before they took me in."

I fucking swear, he was like an insolent child. But, we did need him free. I needed to take him in for the plan to work.

"Have you had the call yet?" he asked.

"No."

He touched at his brow.

"It doesn't matter when I get it," I said.

"Sooner rather than later. If you don't get it until we're there-"

"Then you gotta have a real long conversation with Driscoll."

He massaged his eyebrows and stared at the floor. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know yet. I have to tell Alex that I have you."

He returned to the car and I got into the passenger side. I thumbed a message to Alex's number, and received a reply with a street address. I entered it into the sat nav built into the dashboard while Darren watched.

"You have to behave believably, you know," I said.

"I know." He started the engine and drove us to our destination.

I copied the address in another message to Zack, explaining the current situation, on the off chance that it might be helpful in some way.

The drive wasn't... smooth. Darren was supposed to be this amazing race car driver, but he went into the wrong gear at one point and irritably shifted it again when the engine made an unhappy noise. He was tense and jerky, and it showed, even through the steering. He must have been really nervous. I stayed awkwardly silent.

"Here," I said, pointing to a narrow side road. Alex and Lee were down it with the car.

Darren pulled up and parked, then shot me a look, like his eyes were two blocks of ice in his face, somehow burning with hatred.

"Okay," I said. "That's believable."

"Mister Sörensen," Alex's voice greeted. I shut the passenger door and looked over. "Remember me? Last time we met, you tried to fuckin' throttle me to death." He offered a handshake.

Darren stood very still, but accepted the handshake while seeming to dig through memories. "Hello," he finally replied. "Got a promotion?"

I tried to picture it as my eyes bounced between them. Darren wasn't 'small' - he was taller than Alex, and pretty broad in the shoulders. It was still hard to imagine any aggression or violence in him.

They searched him none too gently and Darren scowled, but didn't fight against it.

Nobody seemed comfortable about where their hands had to go, and Lee visibly smirked. "You wired?"

"No."

"Got anythin' we should be worried about?"

"No."

They took things out of his pockets - wallet, phone, a packet of spearmint gum. "Leave it in the car," Alex said, handing the wallet and phone back. Darren did so, shutting them in the glovebox of his Jag, then locked it up and got into the back of the second car beside me.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 08



"It's a bit of a shock, huh?" Alex asked, swiveling over his seat and gesturing at me. "Bet you weren't expecting her."

Darren gave me a look, like my existence was an irritation. "Quite."

I did my best to appear sheepish and looked out the window. "Can we just go, Alex."

He started the engine, but kept talking. "How much has she told you?"

"More than enough, I think," Darren replied.

His seething tone and radiating tension might not have simply been acting. I suffered a very real twinge of my own. Even if this went to plan, he had every right to be angry. I was the worst sort of person. I bit the hand that fed me.

There was a long silence inside the car. Lee went to turn on the radio and Alex swore at him. Darren mostly focused on staring out his window, probably making a mental note of where we were going. His head snapped around to me when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out, briefly saw the unknown number, but hurried to answer and hold it to my ear. "Amy for fuck sake," I snapped. "I told you I'm busy."

"Jeez, sorry," the female voice - as I'd asked for - replied. "What you in a mood about?"

"I had an early start and you never fucking listen to me."

"Sheesh. Don't have to bite my head off."

"I'll call you back later." I quickly hung up and made awkward eye contact with Alex in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. Should I turn my phone off?"

"Might be an idea," he replied.

I slid it back into my pocket, but didn't switch it off. As easily as that, one part was done. I was now being tracked. Darren glanced at me, with the briefest flicker of relief in his eyes.

The next part was making sure I wasn't separated from Darren.

*

Darren's tension manifested itself into a constant cold expression and stiff demeanour. I wasn't sure if what I felt were my own nerves, or something I picked up from him. Getting out of that car couldn't happen soon enough. I was feeling sick and cold, despite the sunshine and bright weather.

We drove through a business park, stopping at a certain office building. The area was pretty empty. A broken window on the second story of the building gave a subtle hint that it was abandoned.

When the car parked beside some others, people started coming out of the building.

It was like a disturbed ant's nest.

There were so fucking many of them. This could really complicate things.

Darren froze as he watched them approach through the window. Alex graciously opened his door, and gave a kindly gesture to remove himself from the seat. I swallowed, hard, and got out my own side.

There was cheering, hooting, and laughter. The swarm came over to crowd us. Darren's head snapped side to side, bemused, panicked. They closed in on him.

"Fucking Sörensen!"

"Never thought I'd see this, fuck!"

"Holy shit, man!"

"Alex, you monster!"

Alex was swarmed as well, receiving slaps on the back and an arm slung around his neck. He only grinned at all the attention.

It was like Darren had been handed over to an angry mob. He was pushed and shoved, as if everyone wanted an excuse to say they'd touched him. Energies escalated in a boisterous rush, like little boys circling a fight on a school playground. Only there was no fight, just Darren versus fifty guys, who all seemed to want a piece of him and weren't lining up for it.

Someone finally took charge, grabbing Darren's collar and shoving him forward. He staggered, and the crowd split to let him through. "Come on, you poncy cunt."

"It's fuckin' showtime!" someone else called, followed by more hooting.

He continued to be shoved towards the building, staggering and keeping his balance. It felt like the moment he hit the floor, the rabid pack would jump on him and rip him apart. I helplessly watched, trailing Alex and Lee, who were now mostly oblivious to my presence.

We passed into the interior of the building. Everything was an unbearable crowd of bodies. Someone was hollering, telling everyone to calm the fuck down. The voices bounced and echoed off walls, down corridors, a stairwell.

Darren appeared from the crowd as he scaled the first few steps, ruffled and agitated, but not beaten and bloody. He tossed a glare across the heads.

"Gentlemen!" Driscoll's voice called from further up the stairwell, very close to anger in tone. "Is this din necessary? Good fucking lord!"

Everything obediently quietened. The same man who'd taken charge outside gave Darren another push and nodded to keep heading up the steps. The throng thinned and began to disperse. People took off in different directions. Some followed up the stairs.

"Alex!" I barked.

He was heading for the stairs but spun to me, eyebrows raised.

"What's going on?" I hissed.

He smiled and gripped my shoulder. "It's all good. They're gonna have their little talk. I'll come back and get you soon."

"No," I said, and his brow furrowed slightly. I tossed a glance at the surroundings, all the charged up and boisterous men, suddenly taking notice of me now that Darren was gone. "Don't leave me here."

I think desperation showed in my expression, and it wasn't fake. His lips pursed for a brief moment. He tossed a side glance at some of his own colleagues, then made up his mind.

"Aight, come on."

Thank fucking God this was working.

---

David

The door burst open and I jumped, jolting Tyler.

"All right you cute little fags, come on, wake up."

Tyler growled and sat straight, rubbing his eyes.

"Come on, get up."

About five men came into the room and circled us. One grabbed at Tyler's collar but he knocked the arm away on reflex.

"Give us a fucking minute," he snapped.

The man scoffed. "Get up."

"Why? Where we going now?"

"Nowhere. Your mister has arrived."

Tyler reacted like he just wanted to lay down and die. He let out a sigh, and buried his head into his palms. The men laughed at it.

"Hey, you," one said to me. "How's your head? You can stand, yeah?"

I felt perfectly sharp and awake, but thought still acting concussed might be a better idea. I faked needing support of the wall as I got to my feet. Tyler was dragged up and shoved towards the door. The muzzle of a gun gave me a nudge to follow.

"No funny business, Tyler," one said again.

They kept acting like that, expecting him to do something. But I was, too. I kept watching him, waiting for some moment where he'd decide to fight and we'd try our chances at escaping. He seemed to know what was going on, while I didn't. The moment he fought, I'd join him.

He never fought. If anything, he behaved so defeated it pissed me off. I didn't know what we could do, but it just seemed wrong to be doing nothing.

We were taken through the building, passing shadowed corridors where barely any sunlight reached. The room we eventually arrived in was long and narrow. The end with the large window was lit by afternoon daylight, but the other end was shaded.

There were people inside. At least twenty. Their figures lined the walls. Standing in the middle, was Darren. He watched as we were brought in, his eyes a little wider than normal. I could see the faint movement in his throat as he swallowed.

The shirt-guy stood to our left, by the window. I'd decided by now that he was one of these 'Driscolls'. Even if he carried himself with authority, he looked just as tired and unkempt as everybody else. There were a number of bodies in a small space, in the heat of summer, and you could smell it.

Darren was the best-dressed and best-groomed man in that room. God, some things never change.

"You see?" Driscoll said. "I told you they were fine." He gestured us over, then placed a weighty hand on each of our shoulders. Tyler lowered to his knees and I copied. "You just stay there and don't do anything stupid, eh?"

I checked over my shoulder and was met by the tap of a gun on my skull. Right, okay. I looked ahead, at Darren.

Driscoll paced around a lot while he talked, while Darren stayed very still. I was aware of their voices on my ears, and Driscoll's fidgeting movements in the edge of my vision, but I wasn't really paying attention. My eyes shifted around the room.

Violet stood at the back in the shadows. My heart leapt to my mouth and my pulse quickened until I felt like I'd vomit. Why? How? I didn't understand. How could this be happening?

A man stood protectively close to her. The man who'd been there at the crash, the fight. Violet was staring at the floor, but he met my gaze and raised an eyebrow.

My blood was burning. Frustration and anger built up. I had to stay still. I couldn't move. Was she in league with these people? Or was she in against her will, another type of prisoner?

I was begging, praying for the latter.

I wanted her to look up, to look at me. She finally did. Her expression wasn't blank. There was pain in it. I frowned at her, she frowned back. We started having one of our wordless expression-conversations, staring across the room at each other.

Driscoll noticed. He cut off in the middle of his sentence and tapped my head with his knuckles. "Yeah, that's your girlfriend, eh?"

"Leave him," Darren snapped. "I'm the one you want."

"Yes, but what exactly is it that I want?"

"Enlighten me."

Their conversation just sounded like some pissy argument. Driscoll kept being snarky and Darren kept snapping at him. I looked to my right, at Tyler. He was still, but alert. His eyes gave quick movements around the room. He looked ready to spring to his feet at any moment, but the man behind him kept his gun barely an inch from his head. I guessed the one behind me was the same.

I finally tuned in.

"So why hold them hostage?" Darren was asking. "You want money for them?"

"This is just how things played out," Driscoll replied. "I work with whatever I'm given."

"So name your price."

Driscoll paced behind us while shaking his head. "Give a man a fish and you'll feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, however..."

Darren scoffed.

"I'm not interested in handouts," Driscoll continued.

"What do you want, then?"

"Your uncle did kill my father, you know."

Darren glared back at him. "Your father killed my whole family."

"Unfortunate series of events, wasn't it? My father wanted to make contact with you."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"So why did you reject it every time?"

"Because I'm not interested in dealing with your sorts."

"Oh?" Driscoll's legs passed in front of me, then back again. "That could also be very unfortunate."

"What do you want?"

Driscoll finally stopped his pacing. "Your company has been doing very well for itself. Now, I understand it was built on what your father stole from my father. I could simply ask for a little refund, of sorts."

"Which would be?"

He shrugged. "About four million. The thing is, I think we can both make a better deal than that. Times have changed."

"Right." Darren's hand went to his brow.

"Yes, you're thinking about it? Smart, eh."

"I'm not interested."

"I don't think you should be so quick on that decision. Now, you're in contract with the military, yes? Some of the things you've been turning out, trust me, there are people who will pay good money for access to those things."

"No."

"Darren." He gestured at two men against one of the walls. "They're here on a kindly short notice, and will discuss many things with you, if you open your mind a little."

"I'm not interested."

"Do you understand how much money we're talking about?"

"I'm not interested."

I only had a slight view of the profile of Driscoll's face, and it wasn't easy to make out his expressions, but I think he stared at Darren in disbelief. There was silence in the room, broken by someone clearing their throat.

"Darren," a voice said. Violet's voice. "Please."

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, then back at Driscoll. "I'll give you whatever you want for their release, but I'm not interested in doing business with you."

Driscoll ran a hand down his face, then disappeared behind me again as he resumed his pacing. "Are you sure it's smart for you to be so definitive, without your advisers here?"

"And what would my advisers say? Encourage me to deal with the likes of you?"

I looked over my shoulder, and was reminded to behave by another tap of the gun. Holding that kneeling position was getting uncomfortable.

"Is this how he is, Tyler?" Driscoll asked. "Plays hard to get?"

Tyler scoffed. "You're a cunt."

Driscoll's hand went to his forehead.

"Leave him," Darren snapped. "I told you, I'm the one you want."

Apparently neither of my uncles knew what diplomacy was. I didn't see how this was going to end in anything other than disaster. My tension was growing.

"Do you know why he's not dead?" Driscoll asked. "Because I understand how important he is. Your company would be nowhere without people like him, eh? The brain in this noggin." He tapped Tyler's skull.

There was spite in Darren's tone. "Are you this desperate? Fallen on hard times? I would've thought the war made things quite prosperous for you."

Driscoll passed in front of me again. Every time he got close I was fighting the urge to lunge. "Demands increase, yes, but increased security makes it much harder to meet those demands."

"So you're on hard times," Darren concluded. "Pathetic."

Violet's movement caught my attention, covering her face with her hands. Even Tyler reacted, shutting his eyes and giving a faint shake of his head.

Darren just stood there, somehow imposing on the entire room with his presence. Complete defiance of the situation. His gaze stayed fixed on Driscoll. Hatred is an ugly expression, and not one that suited my uncle's face.

I could almost feel like a little kid again. Darren was the big scary patriarch again.

Even Driscoll seemed to need a moment to figure out what to do with him.

"I don't understand you people," he finally said. "What do you think you are? Honourable?"

"You can have money from me, or nothing at all."

There was another long silence. I looked across the room to Violet. She had her arms crossed, leaning against the wall, staring at the floor.

I dared another glance over my shoulder. Driscoll was staring out the window. His voice eventually cut into the air.

"All right, Sörensen. There's obviously no reasoning with someone like you. We're not going to get anywhere. You can leave, but first, before you go, I need you to choose." Footsteps came up behind me. He snatched the gun out of the hands of the man standing over me. "Husband or nephew."

Darren's glare got worse. "What?"

"You're only walking out with one of them."

"This is how you want to persuade me?"

"No, there's no going back now. You've made up your mind, and I've made up mine." He gestured at both of us kneeling there. "So choose one."

"You're a fucking madman."

"And you just keep digging your hole deeper. Choose." He thudded my head with the muzzle. I didn't think my heart could pound any faster, but it did. "Nephew, or husband? The boy or the man?"

"I thought we were being civilised."

"Your attitude is, quite frankly, disgusting, and you need to be taken down a notch. The boy or the man, Darren?"

"What am I even choosing for, you pillock? To shoot or to save?"

"To save." He stood between us - I glanced up and saw the smug smirk at the edge of his mouth. Darren's stance was faltering, but he kept staring. "I won't put the death on your hands, that's simply the consequence of who you choose to save."

Darren fell silent.

"That's not going to work, either. If you don't pick I'll shoot them both. I don't really fucking care."

Then there was a long, mutual pause. They held eye contact. With another glance, I saw Driscoll's face fallen. "He's stalling." He stepped forward, the weapon hanging threateningly at his side. "What you stalling for? I thought you searched him!"

"He ain't got shit on him," the man standing beside Violet replied.

"Well, he's fucking stalling!" Driscoll's eyes shot around the room. "Go on, out! Go and check!"

I saw an eye roll, but the numbers around the walls thinned as multiple men jumped to action, as if eager to please their boss. The room emptied, but not completely. There were still at least ten of them.

"You wired?" Driscoll asked Darren.

He gave him an icy glare. "You're gonna be in shit if I am, aren't you?"

Driscoll stepped back towards us on our knees. "I'm done pissing around. Choose one."

Darren went silent again.

"I'll shoot them both, then."

"No."

"Then pick one." He pointed the muzzle at me, "The boy," then moved it to Tyler, "the man? Come on, Darren. You've had enough thinking time. Your adopted nephew, or your fuck-toy? Which is easier to replace? Five seconds before I shoot both."

Darren said nothing. I saw the panic in his eyes.

"Four."

He swallowed. He wasn't in control.

"Three."

Driscoll cocked the slide of the pistol.

"Two-"

"The boy," Darren said.

What? No. No.

Driscoll's eyebrows rose. "Okay. Yeah, I can respect that." He stepped behind Tyler.

No, no no no. The man behind me grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted my right arm behind my back, as if he could just sense me about to spring.

I was going to be sick. This couldn't be happening. Driscoll rammed the muzzle into the back of Tyler's head. He didn't fucking do anything, he just stared at the floor, then shut his eyes.

I couldn't watch this. My own eyes shut. The shots rang out and I winced.

One.

Two, three.

Voices erupted, wordless cries.

My eyes snapped open. Tyler had fallen forward, on his elbows.

Driscoll staggered back. He looked down at himself. There were two reddening dots on his chest and stomach.

Tyler's lips were curled back in a snarl of pain. Blood soaked through his left shoulder. He'd moved. At the last fucking moment, he'd moved.

The voices cried out from the other end of the room. Another shot cut through it. A figure slumped against the wall while one lunged at Violet. There was another crack of the pistol in her hands, and a spurt of blood out the back of his skull.

Someone lunged at Darren, he rugby tackled them to the floor.

My body roared to action without any conscious thought. This was happening. We were fighting. In a twisting flash I was free from the man trying to restrain me, cracking my knuckles across his face.

There was a shot that wasn't from Violet, then another that sounded as though it hit the window.

A man moved in front of me, I punched him down. Hit him until he stopped moving. Tyler was struggling with someone, I collided with them and heard their head hit the wall.

Faint sounds were ringing out from elsewhere in the building. Shouting voices. More gunfire. It sounded different. Faster, repeated shots. Like assault rifles.

Darren was stalling. We had to last for whatever that was.

I was lost in a blur of the fighting, flurries of punches and kicks. I swung all the weight of my body. I couldn't feel whatever hit me. We were four against ten at best.

Eight.

Six.

Darren had hold of a gun, and he was firing it. A fucking shoot-out was erupting in that confined space. Unless a bullet blasted my brains out, nothing would stop me. Violet's headstart, all the people she hit during that confused burst of panic, made all the difference.

More people came flying in the door and attacked us. We were outnumbered, we had to last.

Tyler was barely using his left arm.

Violet was out of bullets. She smacked the butt of the gun into someone's face over and over again.

Everything my eyes darted across were flashes of information, but my mind processed none of it. I guess, in that moment, I knew what it was to be seeing red.

There was so much chaos, people ducking and dodging, the cracks of pistols. Darren was knocked to the floor, but managed to lift the man off him with whatever raw strength he had. I tackled the next person lunging at him. We both hit the dusty carpet with a wheeze of pain from the man below me.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 08



All the yells, swearing, and grappling right next to me, I was instead aware of the disciplined voices and gunfire outside the room, getting nearer. We seemed to be winning, because the remaining men were panicking. All I remember from that moment was that people stopped looking like people. They became shapes. I was losing my fucking mind.

So when a blur collided with me, I attacked it. It was Tyler's barking voice. It was Tyler's face. I was so confused, I didn't understand why he was going for me. I thought we were on the same side. His hand clamped around my throat, and even as I tried to fight it he knocked my legs out from beneath me and slammed me to the floor.

I tried to get up but he threw his body across me, slamming me down a second time.

More figures poured in the door. They weren't appearing silhouettes from my crazed mind. They were police, in full black body armour. They yelled.

Mid-fight, Darren dropped to his knees and put his hands on his head. The pistol in Violet's hands clattered to the floor as she copied.

The men who didn't react fast enough were mowed down with that rattling, repetitive fire.

If Tyler hadn't taken me down, I'd have been shot.

"Stop, kid," he wheezed in my ear. His fists were clenched in my clothing and I felt his forehead against my cheek. "Just like your fucking dad." His breaths were ragged and pained. I'd winded him.

"Sörensen," a voice said. There were still faint sounds ringing from elsewhere in the building. I tilted my head to try and see with Tyler's weight pinning me down.

Darren got to his feet, a panting and unkempt mess. "You're late," he said, his voice lacking any of its usual power.

"Who opened fire in here?" The helmet looked towards Violet, the gun at her knees.

"She's with us," Darren replied.

Three of Driscoll's men were also on their knees. An officer moved into place behind one, and another moved towards Tyler and I. Tyler lifted himself, but I mustn't have appeared calm because a gun was pointed at me.

"No," Tyler said, putting a hand over the end of the muzzle and shoving it away. "It's the fucking kid."

I don't know what was going through the authority's heads, what the mess in that room looked like. My eyes moved across the bodies on the floor, not all of them dead. The blood finally reached my nose. Bile rose up in my throat. My state was seeping out of me, reality was coming back. I was cold and trembling.

"Where is Driscoll?" the lead officer asked Darren.

He pointed to the figure that had propped itself up against a wall. His shirt was soaked red, but he was still alive. He shook his head, surveying the carnage with a blank expression.

"Well done, Darren."

"No. This was all her."

Violet cautiously got to her feet, shifting her eyes over the officers. She stepped up beside Darren and gave Driscoll an empty look.

His head continued to shake, then he laughed. It was high pitched with disbelief. He gasped in a pained breath. "You're gonna go far, lass."

"Where are my parents?"

"Dead for all I care."

She glared at him, the fucking bastard managed to smirk.

"They were here, lass. These cunts probably shot them."

"Who's here?" the lead officer asked. "How many more hostages?"

Driscoll shrugged like a prick.

Darren picked a pistol off the floor. He gave it a nonchalant turn in his hands, then stepped forward.

"Sörensen-" the officer started.

He unloaded two shots into Driscoll's face. The body jolted before going limp.

"Sörensen!"

I winced and looked away.

"He died in the crossfire," Darren snapped. Gun muzzles pointed in his direction.

"Yeah, convenient, huh?!"

"You want to put him in prison, so his insiders get him out again, and he's back to attacking my family?"

"Sörensen-"

"He's a fucking madman!"

The lead officer ripped his headgear off, looking up to the ceiling as if to ask the heavens, 'why me?'

"You're all madmen Sörensen, the fuckin' lot of ya! Drop it!"

Darren glared.

"Drop it!"

He let the pistol slip from his hand to the floor.

"Now come 'ere!"

He held his hands up. "You're gonna take me?"

"For that fuckin' performance, yes."

An officer stepped forward to grab Darren's arm, but he backed off as though he'd resist. They bristled again, keeping their firearms pointed at him, shifting weight from foot to foot. One of them spoke into a radio.

"Sörensen," the lead warned again.

Tyler's washed-out voice pierced into the moment, like an exhausted sigh. "Darren, calm your tits."

Tyler wasn't okay. The left side of his shirt was clinging to his body. I finally staggered to my feet and exchanged a glance with Violet. She was panicked, filled with a state I recognised. She looked like she'd bolt and run at any moment. Her eyes flicked between Darren and the police.

Darren tried to step towards Tyler, but the nearest officer grabbed his arm. He barked and swore, and tried to wrestle free.

"Darren," Tyler said again. "Stop."

Violet stepped away from them. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

The officers barked at Darren in return as they restrained him, their efforts divided between watching the remaining men in the room and dealing with his behaviour. I didn't know what to do.

The eyes behind the visor of a helmet were looking at me. "How bad is it?"

I blinked. "What?"

The head gave a downwards nod.

I ran cold as I saw my hoodie sticking to my ribs. I'd been shot. I couldn't feel it. Was there a bullet in me? The shock washed over me in a dizzy rush and I took a staggering step back. I couldn't even panic, something told me it was futile.

Violet bolted over to me.

"Move," the officer growled.

I don't know what happened. I don't know why Violet flipped. She was shoved away from me, but her tension burst out, and she lunged back. The officer staggered and swore. After a single surging moment, they were wrestling. She swung a punch that glanced off his helmet.

"For fuck sake!" the lead officer roared.

I tried to grab her, and stop her. Too late. The rifle smacked across her face. Muzzles were pointed at her, another restrained her. She shrieked out something incoherent. Shock was numbing my ears.

Hands grabbed at me and pushed me towards the door. One of them spoke into the radio again, talking about injuries, ordering a thorough search of the building.

"Pressure," a voice said. "Put pressure on it."

I clasped a hand over my ribs. Hot blood smeared my palm from the fabric. I was feeling pain now, a raw stinging, but only on the surface. My mind was blank, I couldn't think anything. I was barely aware of Violet's shouting behind me, and Darren's booming voice.

I might as well have been unconscious because I entered the most unresponsive state I'd ever been in.

The short journey through the corridors and down the stairs was unreal. A few more bodies littered the way. There were bits of red everywhere. In one room five more men were on their knees, hands on their heads.

It looked like... warfare.

I just focused on walking.

The sunlight was bright outside. Police were crawling everywhere, chaos and commotion from every angle. They'd performed a full raid on the building.

I was separated from everyone. I didn't even know where Tyler went. At first, they sat me in the back of a van with a blanket draped over my shoulders. I was left for at least a minute, wondering what was happening, how much blood I was losing. Whoever was watching over me switched around, then I was rushed to an ambulance.

The man thanked me for being so calm, and kept saying I'd be okay. Hands directed me everywhere, faces and eyes of paramedics practised in a calm but forceful manner of their duty. I was quite biddable. I don't think I could have been anything other than that deadpan state if I tried. I was going to hospital with a gunshot wound. Okay. Shit happens.

---

Violet

They didn't listen to me.

Everything boiled up into an explosion. I lost control of myself. I told them they had to find my parents, not to kill them, they weren't working for Driscoll.

Shouted, more like.

They told me to shut up, to remain silent, and tried to handcuff me. Every time I struggled they got rougher. I knocked someone's helmet from their head, kicked off another's stomach while my shoulders were pinned against one's chest. I lost the scrambling wrestle, landing on my front on the floor with a kneepad digging into my spine.

They yelled at me, and Darren yelled at them.

They cuffed him as well. Why? They came to rescue him, they knew who he was. But they were arresting him.

And me. They were taking me. They'd already taken David and Tyler.

I couldn't stop fighting it. If I could just get out of their grip, I could run.

Animalistic mistakes.

I'm not sure how much force they were allowed to exert, but when a rifle butt cracked across my head, I should've only been thankful that they didn't shoot me.

I was dragged outside with Darren, perfectly conscious but with a splitting headache, and both of us were marched towards a van. Our escort was briefly stopped by more officers, who argued about what was going on while the ones gripping our arms defended themselves.

Shooting the suspect dead in front of them. Assaulting an officer.

We were shoved into the back of the van, and the doors slammed shut. I swallowed over my panic and looked at Darren opposite me. His eyes closed and he thudded his head back against the metal.

How did David phrase this? Done fucked it up.

*

They took everything I shouldn't need off me. Everything in my pockets, and my jacket. They found the flip knife. I was in even more shit. It was put into a separate plastic sealy bag, then I was put into a holding cell.

That cell was my nightmare. Narrow and claustrophobic. Floor, walls, and ceiling all the same white. I sat myself on the bench and buried my head into my hands. I was in pain. My face hurt. I had a cut from my temple, down my cheek, and it was swollen.

I hurt inside, too. Everything was wrong. David was hurt. I might've killed my parents. I was probably going to prison. Life as I knew it was over.

I was exhausted. I was hungry. I couldn't even cry. It was there, in my throat, in my nose, but no tears came.

I don't know if there was ever a time where I felt worse. In that moment, as far as I was concerned, I had nothing.

Scenes replayed in my mind. It wasn't the first time I'd felt that recoil in my hands. Mum had trained me. Yet all I wished was that I was a better shot. That I had actually killed Driscoll. Then, maybe, none of this would be happening.

I curled up on the bench, buried my head into my arms, and passed out.

*

I slept all through that night, until afternoon the next day. Nobody came in to wake me, or if they tried, they didn't succeed. Was it neglect? Leaving me there to rot?

I came to at one point, aching and stiff, with a dead arm. In my drowsy state I pulled my top off, scrunching it up to use as a makeshift pillow, then I was out again.

The door opening startled me to consciousness the second time. My body bolted sharply awake in typical fashion, while my mind took a little longer.

Darren stepped into the room, and the door shut behind him. He almost looked sinister. There was darkness around his eyes from lack of sleep, and the shadows from his heavy brow enhanced it. To put it less dramatically, he looked like shit. He took one look at me, then averted his gaze to the floor.

I swung my legs over the side of the bench and pulled my top on. I will always wonder why a bikini is seen as decent, and a bra isn't.

"What's going on?"

"Getting you out of here," he replied.

I rubbed my eyes, then looked back at him. "What? What's going on?"

"They're letting it slide."

"What?"

"Everything."

I tilted my head, curled my lip. "What?"

"You need to come and make a statement." He perched on the bench beside me, and his eyes searched mine to make sure he had my attention. "For simplicity's sake, you didn't fire a single shot in that room."

"What? No, I-"

"No."

"What? You're taking the blame?"

"No. There's no investigation into specifics. Police reacted to a threat. We were fired at, that is all."

"Driscoll?"

"He would've died before reaching hospital. They're letting it slide." He spoke in his business voice. It was unsettling. "Now, the knife."

"Err."

"I gave it to you. It belongs to me."

I frowned at him. "What's going to happen to you?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

He smiled as if it hurt his face. "Perhaps fortunately in this situation, I'm one of the government's pets."

I stared at him for a long second. I'd done it. I'd climbed the ladder.

"Okay," I finally replied.

"The police have successfully shut down an underground operation. They're quite content. There's no need for any extra work for them." He got to his feet and knocked on the door. I followed him out to make my statement.

I was led to a room by a sandy-haired man called Lawrence, who was apparently my lawyer. He told me exactly what to say. My statement covered details of how I had been the owner of the phone tracked, my involvement in everything, and an explanation of what happened at the building. Driscoll died in the crossfire.

And then it was over. Darren and I were just dumped outside the station, stranded in the middle of London. My phone was dead. Darren had literally nothing on him. All we had was Lawrence. He and Darren walked towards a car, so I followed.

They didn't sound happy with each other. Lawrence's voice carried on the breeze from in front. "... Digging up this fucking case again."

"Digging up?" Darren repeated. "I'm sorry, have all these events been false?"

Lawrence unlocked the car and gave me a look, but his words weren't directed at me. "You seem to have a habit of getting involved with the wrong company."

Darren snorted. "I don't see it that way."

I got into the backseat and kept my mouth shut.

"You wanted a Driscoll, you got a Driscoll," Darren said.

Lawrence let out a loud sigh. I didn't think he was a lawyer. Something undercover, more like. "There's one left now. They're a dying breed."

"Good. What hospital are Ty and David in?"

"I don't know yet. Just get you home, and I'll call you."

"No, my fucking car."

"What?"

"It's left in the middle of nowhere."

Lawrence drove us out of London and located the street. Darren's car was right where he'd parked it, and hadn't been broken into. Lucky, I guess. He got out and beckoned for me to follow, so I did, tossing a final glance at Lawrence, who barely made eye contact with me.

I stayed silent and simply tagged along behind Darren, worried that saying the wrong thing might piss him off and get me abandoned on the street. He sat himself behind the wheel and I cautiously got into the passenger side.

For a minute, there was silence. Darren leant back in his seat and closed his eyes. If he'd had some guard up around Lawrence, it disintegrated now, into exhaustion. My gaze shifted around, from him, out the windscreen, out the side window. I gave an awkward fidget.

He sat forward to lean against the wheel, massaged his brow, then held a hand out. "Would you pass me..."

Oh, right. I opened the glovebox and handed his wallet and phone over.

"Thank you."

He checked through his phone and there was another minute of silence. When the engine started it almost made me jump.

He drove himself home, taking me with him.

The entire drive was silence.

*

It was evening when we passed the gates and crunched over the gravel. My most prominent thought was that I was hungry. My stomach felt like a hole where innards were supposed to be. Amongst our silence, we also didn't look at each other. He parked and I got out first, but let him go ahead of me to open the front door.

I figured he was just keeping me with him because it wasn't particularly moral to dump me off on the street. He'd pawn me off on Amelia and Zack as soon as possible. I dawdled with taking my boots off in the foyer. Nothing seemed to mean anything at that point, and I saw no reason to hurry with my useless existence. So I almost startled when I looked up and saw him stood there, staring, like he'd been waiting for me to notice him.

"I'm going to shower."

"Okay, err. Can I... make some food?"

"Yes, take whatever you want, whatever's there. Don't make anything for me. I'm not hungry."

He disappeared upstairs and I found my way to the kitchen.

I think it was about an hour until he came downstairs again. I'd washed up and put away everything I'd used - I didn't leave a trace of my presence. I hoped sitting on the sofa and watching the TV wouldn't be taken as rude. I'd hide silently in a corner if he wanted it, and keep out of his way.

He passed the lounge into the kitchen, not giving me any looks or saying anything. His voice sounded out and I looked in its direction, but he came into view on the phone.

"Yes, ask Lawrence... No... No. Not really... Yes, she's here with me... Yes, I'm fine."

I was pretty sure it was Amelia. He moved back into the kitchen and kept talking for a while longer. When he re-appeared, he had a bottle of wine and a glass in his hand. He sat the opposite end of the sofa to me, poured himself a glass, and drained it. Then a second one. And drained that too.

He was gonna get pissed. I guess we all have our methods.

Once he was on the third glass, the silence was finally bothering me.

"Darren, I'm... I'm really sorry. About everything."

"I'll let you know if I'm angry once I've had time to think about it."

"... You're not thinking now?"

He took another sip of his glass. "Nope."

I snorted and finally looked in his direction. "Are you gonna have the whole bottle?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"You want some?"

"No thanks."

He finished the third glass and poured himself a fourth.

"Don't worry about it," he said after the pause. "I wanted to thank you for what you did."

I picked dirt from beneath a thumbnail with the nail of the opposite thumb. "I wasn't fast enough. He still shot Tyler."

"Yes, but Tyler moved. Could've been worse." He took another sip. "Did you have the gun on you the whole time?"

"Zack gave it to me."

He frowned into the depths of his glass. "Right."

The TV was simply a collection of moving images, where my ears didn't process the sounds. "Why did you pick David?"

"Because Tyler moved."

His response was sharp and fast. I almost wondered if it was some sort of sarcasm. Honestly, when I look back, I have no idea why I ever asked. My moral compass was extremely fucked up.

"If the worst came to it," Darren continued, "David still has his life to live." He gave me a curious look, as if also wondering why I found his decision so hard to understand. "So once again, thank you. For potentially saving Tyler's life."

"You're a horrible actor," I said. "All you had to do was keep Driscoll busy, keep him talking. Just go along with his stupid business deal. Nothing was gonna matter when the cops came. You pissed him off. You nearly fucked everything up."

Darren smirked and poured himself his fifth glass. Sweet Jesus, I wanted to tell him to stop. "Yes. I lost my temper. I think I might have sunk to the lowest I've ever been."

I stared at the TV and didn't reply.

He let out a deep sigh and massaged his brow. "I don't know why I shot him."

"Because he was a massive cunt?"

"Do you have any idea what his family has been doing to me, since I was about your age?" He downed the glass alarmingly fast, but didn't immediately reach for the bottle to ready his next. "I think I ruined a chance at some answers."

"What answers?"

He shook his head, hand touching at his brow again. "I'd have to start at the beginning, and I'm not in the mood. I had this stupid idea, going in there, that maybe, we would be having some sort of personal conversation. Of course not. It was just business."




Hornet's Nest Ch. 09



---

Violet

Being alone in Darren's house was pretty awkward, if I'm honest. And if it was awkward for me, I can only imagine what it was like for him. He knocked repeatedly on my room's door the following morning.

"Violet, erm. Violet."

I didn't immediately respond, and he knocked again.

"Violet."

It wasn't particularly early. I don't know why I took so long to wake up.

"What?" I finally replied, and it came out louder and sharper than I intended.

"Can you get up?"

"Yeah."

"I have information, about the hospital. I'm going soon, I guess you want to come too?"

That cleared up my tired fog much faster. "Yes." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and his footsteps headed down the hallway. I stared at my discarded knickers on the floor. "Darren," I called.

"Yes?" The footsteps came back.

"I really need clean clothes."

"Oh, God." There was a pause. "Are you decent?"

"No."

So we just had this bizarre conversation through the door.

"I, erm," he unhelpfully started.

"Does David leave any spare boxers around by any chance?"

He let out a light chuckle that was more of an amused exhale. "We've not had to keep spare underwear for him for a long time."

"Okay."

"Erm."

I guessed I'd have to borrow something of his.

"Maybe Tyler's smallest boxer briefs would fit you."

Or that.

"Can I just put my stuff in the wash?" I asked.

"Yes, but the hospital hours, um..."

"Just a quick spin."

"Yes, but the tumble dryer-"

"Darren, it's literally just some knickers."

His voice sounded muffled, like he had his hands over his face. "Okay, all right. Hold on." He walked away again, but came back and dropped a bathrobe through the door. I could probably wrap myself up twice in it.

I was hungry again. I was stiff in places that confused me - I didn't remember using those parts for anything specific. My head had a large bruise which only hurt if I touched it. The cut on my face only hurt if I stretched my cheek with expressions. My arms were decorated with marks from the vice grips of the police.

I made myself some toast, repeatedly checking the washing machine for the twenty-minute spin to be over with. Darren was anxious to get to the hospital, and so was I. I didn't know what to say to David, or what he'd say to me, but I needed to see him.

Darren wandered around on the phone. I didn't know what it was about, just kept hearing his voice through the walls. He hung up and came into the kitchen with an expression that said his mind was busy. If he had any sort of a hangover, he did a good job at hiding it. There were only some creases around his brow and eyes to suggest he was working through a headache. He poured himself what might have been his second or third cup of coffee.

There was a distinct lack of noise from the washing machine, so I went out to sort the dryer. Darren was leaning against the counter and looking down at his phone when I came back in. I hesitated before speaking. His eyes flicked up to my presence.

"... Have they found my parents yet?" I asked.

"I'm trying to find out."

I stared at the floor and crossed my arms.

"Lawrence is sticking his nose in for me," Darren continued.

"Who is he?"

"What?"

"Lawrence."

"Someone who's been hunting Driscolls for a long time. I was put in contact with him some years ago."

"Right."

"This was all the kick-off he was waiting for. Had to happen one day."

So Darren was bait on a hook. I came along and bit.

I watched him typing a message on his phone's screen, then looked around the kitchen. I hated everything right then. The situation, what had happened, everything I'd done. I wanted to fix things, make everything better. I was helpless. Everything was in the hands of someone else, the mercy of something else. I dropped the stone and had no power over the ripples.

*

The drive was uneventful. I tagged along behind Darren upon arrival. He seemed to know where he was going and what he was doing.

I was 19 years old, and it was the first time I stepped foot inside a hospital. I had been born in one, but had no memories. When Dad got beaten up and stabbed, he never went to hospital. He 'pulled himself together' and spent a few weeks struggling. When Mum jumped off a moving motorbike in a choreographed crash and broke her arm, she never went to hospital. A friend snapped something back in place and bound it up while she screeched profanities. It got better, but she always complained that she didn't have the same strength in that arm ever again.

The hospital's interior was exactly as I expected it to be, but we slipped through without saying anything to anyone. Darren never went up to a desk. He stopped briefly to check some information on ward names, then continued down the corridor.

When we reached the ward that held David and Tyler, there were police. My stomach instinctively tightened, but Darren sped up. He greeted them with professional tact and showed some ID.

"And her?" one asked.

"My niece."

Well, okay. They let us through. I didn't understand at the time, but they were there in case anyone came into the hospital in an attempt to 'finish off the job'. An unlikely but thoughtful precaution.

We were seeing Tyler first. I fell behind as we approached the door. "Do you want to, err..." I gestured for Darren to go ahead.

He glanced over his shoulder. "He'll want to know what happened. Wouldn't you rather explain it yourself?"

Fair enough. I followed him inside.

We walked into Tyler bickering with who I assumed to be a nurse. His voice cut off mid-sentence and his head snapped to the door. He stared for a second, yelped out a little laugh, then looked back to the woman - "Nevermind." He grinned at us. "Did you suck the police's dicks?"

"Lawrence's," Darren replied.

Another yelp. "Is he doing even half as good a job as Ted?"


"It's not really a fair field to judge."

"Mister Sörensen?" the nurse asked.

Darren straightened at the side of the bed. "Yes?"

She simply nodded in affirmation and looked back to Tyler. "I'll leave you to it."

"Ma'am," Darren started. "Where is Keane?"

She paused with her hand on the door handle. "David Keane?"

"Yes."

"You're not of kin."

"Not officially, no."

Her eyes slid back to Tyler. "He's been explaining to me. David had some lad come in earlier, his brother I think? I'll go check anyways, and let you know." She took her leave.

I stood feeling very much like a third wheel as Darren sat on the side of the bed and seized Tyler in an embrace. Tyler returned it with one arm - his left was in a sling. Darren pulled back and gave it a tug. "What's this?"

"They don't really want me to move my arm while it heals, some shit with my shoulder blade. To be fair," he lifted the elbow level with his chin, "it hurts like a bitch to move it anyways."

They returned to their previous closeness. Darren seemed content with holding him in silence for a short while. Tyler eventually lifted his buried face, rested his chin on Darren's shoulder, and gave me a look. "So, what exactly has been going on?"

I think facing Tyler was, in some ways, the hardest. And I could get it over with first. I didn't know how many times I would be repeating this story.

There wasn't much detail or emotion. I simply relayed events, starting with the phonecall from Harold. I did try to apologise about the whole ringing-up-Tyler-gone-midnight thing. He smirked and I looked away. He watched me the entire time I spoke, but I only made a few glances of eye contact.

I trailed off close to the end, thinking Darren would take over and explain what exactly had gone on involving the police, but he didn't. There was a silence.

The silence stretched. Tyler was waiting for me to look up and make eye contact. I finally did.

"You're a dumb bitch," was his response. To everything. "And a pretty good shot."

I scoffed. "Not good enough."

"Why?"

"I didn't kill him."

"No, then you would've stolen Darren's moment." His eyes finally moved off me. "You enjoyed that, didn't you? Fucking idiot."

Darren's face was obscured behind his hand, but he visibly shook his head. "I lost my shit."

"Yeah, and you know who else lost their shit? The kid."

"Fucking hell." Darren dragged the hand down his jaw. "It's lucky you stopped him when you did."

"Yeah, and I nearly got broken ribs for it. For fuck sake. He's too big now, I can't handle him anymore."

There was another short silence. Tyler's abrasive, joking manner could be equally hard-hitting.

David definitely had lost his shit. A physical eruption. The blurred lines of violence. Perhaps the worst thing, was that nobody was sorry it had happened. None of us knew how things might've gone otherwise. David performed nothing but a necessity that kept the four of us alive.

"If only he did that at the car," Tyler continued.

"They got the jump on you," I quietly replied. "It makes the difference."

He snorted. "You'd know all about that, huh? Like you knew to aim at the torso and not the head?"

I stared at the floor.

"You got a headshot, though. I saw it."

I'd shot people dead, and Tyler was ready to joke about it.

"Can we not talk about this," Darren butted. "Not here, not right now."

Tyler shrugged his right shoulder. "We have to talk at some point."

Darren let out a deep sigh and buried his head again.

"What's going on," Tyler pushed, "what's Lawrence doing?"

"Honestly, I wish I knew."

"Is he gonna find anything out?"

"Actually, I called him up to tell him something."

"What?"

Darren's eyes fixed on me. "This Driscoll talked with Violet, and told her some things."

"Like what?"

"Like, my dad stole Brendan's wife."

Tyler's eyes widened, then he blinked. His mouth became an unimpressed line in his face, that sort of disappeared beneath his beard. "You what."

"Yes."

"For real?"

"Yep."

"So that's what this guy got in a fit about? Your dad fucked his mum?"

"My dad fucked his mum," Darren confirmed.

Tyler's face screwed up, like there was just so much stupidity in the world and he didn't want to think about it, let alone deal with it. "Jesus Christ." They stared at each other for a long moment.

"My dad was a bastard," Darren said. "That's all there is to it."

"Nah," Tyler said, but it went no further. Apparently right then wasn't the time for that conversation.

I was waiting for that nurse to come back. Waiting to see David.

---

David

I entered a withdrawn state. Physically, everything was fine. Or, would be, given a typical recovery period. I didn't know what was going on, I didn't really know where I was, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I stared at walls, stared at the TV in my room, and mostly slept. I was out of it.

Wesley's voice told me that I was allowed visitors. It woke me up and I came to confused as fuck. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and opened my eyes to him staring at my face. His own eyes lit up and came to life with a massive grin. Before I could react he threw his weight across me and his shoulder knocked my chin.

"Wes," I growled. He chuckled and didn't let go.

"Fucking hell, mate. Fucking hell." He shifted, and his arm brushed where I had stitches. I jolted and he pulled back. "Are you okay? You got shot?"

"Fuck." I pushed myself up and rubbed at my eyes, then looked to the door. "Mum and Dad not with you?"

"They want to come, I think they'll be here at some point. Mum's having to deal with the company and Dad's dealing with some shit with the police." His eyes searched my face while I was drowsy and slow. "Dave. I've never shat myself like this before."

"I'm okay, Wes."

"What happened? They wouldn't tell me medical details."

"Apparently it was a 'graze'. Which meant it ripped my side open and I got stitches and stuff."

"... Can I see?"

I paused to give him a look. His lips pursed while holding my gaze, containing a laugh. It was infectious. I felt myself grinning, then showed him, peeling back the tape that held a gauze over my stitches.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only if you fucking touch it."

I slapped his hand away and we both snickered. He was giddy that I was alive, and I soaked it up. He just turned up in that room and suddenly everything felt better. Some things, at least. I had a whole mess in my head to sort through, but one thing at a time.

"Did you drive here?"

"Yeah, shit. I literally just got my license, and already had to deal with London. There's some idiots on the road. Don't tell Mum, aight, but I nearly crashed."

"Why."

"Someone pulled out in front of me."

"Wes."

"I can't do the sat nav and everything at the same time, I can't multi-task for shit, aight?"

I chuckled and thudded my forehead against his shoulder.

"Oh yeah." He reached for a plastic bag at his feet and dropped a chocolate bar on my stomach. "I hear food here is shit."

"They fed me pretty well last night."

"Bet you were high on drugs 'n shit."

I peeled back the wrapper. "Nah, man."

His eyes moved from the chocolate, to my face. "They got police out there guarding you and stuff, you know."

"... Really?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

The mirth had to sober up eventually. There was a pause where he stared at the door, then looked back to me. "What happened, Dave?"

I didn't know where to begin. My mind was full of images, and trying to put those into words felt impossible. Wesley only knew half the story, and so did I. One of us had to explain our side first, to piece it all together.

"How much do you know?" I asked. At that point, it felt like everybody but me knew what was going on.

"Violet turned up in the middle of the night after she got you and Tyler abducted."

I stewed in silence for a minute, and Wesley was patient. I finally explained, starting with the whole fight with the car. Our conversation was a mess. We jumped on each other's sentences. We cut each other off. Sometimes we fell silent, then both started talking at the same moment.

I tried to recall my conversation with Tyler, with as much detail as possible. Darren's situation was something we'd both been left in the dark about, and we'd both been trying to figure it out, trying to understand it with our shreds of information. Not only that - I told Wes, as bluntly as possible, that Tyler had killed someone.

He went very quiet and stared at the door again.

And more, I told him about Dad. He looked around with a long stare, where his eyes darted across my face. His voice was quiet when he eventually spoke.

"You didn't figure that out?"

"What?"

"I mean, I guessed back when he showed us that gun. I just... Dave. Why do you think he had a gun? For shits and giggles?" He leant his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

"It didn't cross my mind," I admitted. "It just didn't."

We both fell silent. My withdrawn state crept back up on me. Wesley was now going through all the motions I was. I couldn't decide whether it was easier or worse for him, being on the outside of the situation.

The fabric of my world was not just torn, but ripped up. There were ways things were supposed to be, and they'd all been shattered. Dad was a murderer. Tyler was a murderer. Violet and Darren were murderers. I'd watched them shoot. Maybe I'd killed someone, too. I didn't even know.

I wanted things to go back to normal, but they never would. Everything would simply be different from there on out.

Violet had done this. It was all her fault. She'd called up Tyler like that, lured him in, given him over to Driscoll. And yet I'd also been there as she shot Driscoll to save him.

She'd changed sides, or something. She was some sort of turncoat. Double agent. Triple agent. I had no idea how I felt about it.

I explained the rest of it to Wesley - everything that followed when Darren showed up. He didn't jump on my sentences, simply listened. His eyebrows rose when I talked about Violet opening fire on the room.

"Holy shit."

"I don't know where she is now, or Darren. The police were angry at both of them, they were fighting."

"Mum said they're out."

"Huh?"

"The police took in Darren and Violet. They got out yesterday."

"Are they okay?"

Wesley gave a massive, full-armed shrug, hands in the air and everything. "I basically don't know shit. I had to take Hanna to Grandma and Granddad's. She's real upset, she knows something's going on, and doesn't understand why nobody will tell her."

We fell into another silence. He sprawled across the bed, across my legs. My mind processed all the new information until the pair of us jumped at the door opening. A nurse came in, whose face I recognised. She'd had a shift at the same time yesterday.

"There's some people here who want to see you," she said. "You're not supposed to have visitors outside of close family right now, but it's Darren Sörensen, you know him, yes?"

"He is family," I replied.

"I've been told about your 'situation'. He has a young lady with him, too."

"Violet?"

"I didn't catch her name, sorry. Would you like to see them? Shall I go get them?"

"Yes."

Wesley perked up and we sat in another silence. It was a painful minute's wait until the door opened again. Darren stepped inside first. He didn't look great, but he could've looked worse. His eyes were always expressive, and in that moment he looked so happy, not only at seeing me, but also Wesley. Wes sprung off the bed and threw his arms around him, and Darren returned it with just as much vigour.

Violet silently slipped in behind them. My gaze fixed on her, and hers on me. Her expression said so much, and so little at the same time. I'd always felt those big blue eyes were guarding something. She had nothing to hide anymore. They were clear as day.

"Where's Tyler?" Wesley asked.

"Right down the corridor," Darren replied.

"Can I see him?"

"I don't see why not."

Wesley tossed a glance over his shoulder. "Give the lover birds some time alone. They need it."

Did we? They both stepped out before I thought of anything to say. The door slowly eased itself closed and clicked shut. Violet crossed her arms and looked to the floor. I waited for her to talk, but she didn't. We were left in a suffocating silence. I finally broke it.

"Come here."

She didn't move.

"Come here," I growled.

She dragged herself over, but didn't look into my eyes. I sat up further, and somehow, while staring down the whole time, she had the perfect aim to thud her forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so fucking sorry."

It had the potential to sound insincere, but it didn't.

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know." She pulled back a little and met my gaze. "How much do you know?"

"I think I might know the general gist of things."

"Driscoll had my parents. I..."

"That's what the call in the middle of the night was about?"

She frowned at me. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you just walk out on me?"

"I don't know."

"I just don't... I just... I don't understand you, Vi. Why wouldn't you talk to me? Why did you do this?"

"Because I'm stupid."

"This is beyond stupid. You... You wanted to use Darren, to save your parents?"

"Pretty much."

"So what changed?"

"I kinda like Darren, and I didn't like Driscoll."

My heart pounded so hard in my chest. She almost made me want to scream. She made no sense. "What the fuck goes on in your head?"

"I wish I could say that there were voices. But that's the problem. There's not. There's nothing. I don't think. I just do things. Stupid things." She edged further away from me. "It seems like a good idea at the time." Her hands clasped at her arms. "If you just... If you want me to go, I get it. I'll go." She stared at the door, like she would bolt.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 09



"No. Don't you fucking dare." My hand shot up to grab her wrist. "Don't leave me again."

"I'm a terrible person."

"Yeah, and I still love you."

She was doing her thing, trying to deflect. It wasn't working. She gave a feeble tug with her wrist and I didn't let go. I watched her crumble. She finally looked into my eyes, then fell into me, hiding her face before I got a chance to see her weakness. "I love you," she strained. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

She let out a loud sniff. I wrapped my arms around her, falling back against the pillows and pulling her with me. I'd never seen her cry before, and to be fair, I wasn't seeing it, just hearing it. My own sinuses tingled and I joined her, resting my head against hers. We didn't really sob. Both of us were trying too hard to control it. The room just filled with sniffs, and pained breathing. A couple of whimpers.

She curled up against me, tucking her head between my shoulder and neck. I wiped my eyes with my free hand. It was the first time I had her in my arms after she'd walked out on me, after all the shit she'd put me through. Frustration and relief were a strange combination to feel.

We did talk more, eventually. But not that much. I mostly said things to break the silence, and she replied with short sentences.

"I don't even know if my parents are alive," she said. Her next few breaths were sharper, but she didn't break into a second bout of tears. "I don't know where they are. I don't know if there was any point in anything."

I didn't reply. She was the one I wanted to talk to the most, and yet there felt too much risk of saying the wrong thing. I opted for silence, and she didn't speak again either.

We both could've slept if left there long enough. The door opening cut through whatever drowsiness was forming.

"David," Darren said. "Your parents are here."

I pushed up on an elbow. "Okay."

"Violet, you need to come with me."

She sat up as well, blinking a few times, like doing so could remove any evidence of crying, or bring her back to a sharper state. Or both. She gave Darren a curious glance, but he'd used his authoritative tone that made people do as he said before they had time to question it.

"We'll come again tomorrow," he continued.

I gave Violet a kiss before she walked out. It was brief. She was distracted. I didn't get to talk to Darren. He held the door open, watched her pass in front of him, then gave me a quick look before disappearing.

Their presence was replaced in a matter of seconds.

Dad looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back. His eyes were exhausted, while his posture was tense. He was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. Somehow that was enough, just for the briefest moment, for him to look like Driscoll. My mind was an idiot. The involuntary prickle of adrenaline followed whether I wanted it or not.

I couldn't even explain what made my blood pressure go up. Too many subtle hints that hit at once. Darren had just removed Violet from my company. To make room for Dad.

The alarm bells only gave me the sudden realisation that I didn't want to talk to my dad right then. I wasn't ready.

Mum perched on the side of the bed, searching my face for something, and I didn't know what. She only looked tired, and fed up, and nothing else. Her hand reached out to cup my cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

Her response was to seize me in a hug. I mean, I got it, I could've died. But I was in a weird state, and couldn't really get on board with her thoughts. Whatever had happened to me didn't matter because I was right there and I was fine.

This wasn't about me.

"There's a lot of things you haven't told me about," I said.

"Yes." She pulled back and brushed her hand through my hair.

My eyes moved to Dad as he loomed at the end of the bed. "You shot someone."

His thumbs went to his pockets and his head turned away. It wasn't really possible to see his jaw tightening beneath his facial hair, but it showed in the muscles of his neck.

Mum fidgeted. She leant her palms on her knees, then crossed her arms.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that?" I asked.

Dad met my gaze. "Why would I?"

"No. No, don't fucking pull that. That's exactly what Tyler said. It's bullshit."

"David," Mum started.

"No, fuck this. Fuck you, all of you."

"David," she warned a second time, in the tone she reserved for whenever I was being an idiot or misbehaving. "Now is not the time or place."

Shit. I was angry at everybody. The whole abduction, the fighting, the shooting, had been traumatic in its own way. But I didn't care about that yet. What unsettled me were all the things that had been kept from me. Nobody was openly talking, but I needed it. I needed my answers. I needed my explanations.

---

Violet

I took the fact that Amelia brought my suitcase and laptop for what it was - I'd been kicked out.

I'd be taking up refuge with Darren for longer than I initially thought. Tyler even laughed about it - "Look after him, he can't cook for shit."

My future seemed pretty bleak. Not that it was possible to look far ahead, anyways. Life was trapped in a narrow scope, where the events of the next few days would determine everything. I felt pretty numb. Little spurts of emotions came and went.

"Darren," I said in the car. "What's going on?"

"You're staying with me for now."

"Are Zack and Lia angry with me?"

"They have David to worry about."

Right. I stared out the window. I wasn't even mad. I didn't blame them.

*

That evening was a blur. Darren spent much of it on the phone. Always with the fucking phonecalls. He liked to walk around a lot, as well. I could relate to that. I was a fidgeter. With a voice coming in one ear and my brain engaged, the rest of my body didn't know what to do.

I sat in the lounge with my laptop, listening to his conversations get louder and quieter as he moved in and out of the kitchen. It was interesting, at least, to keep track of the sheer amount of bullshit he could come up with, and try to figure out who he might be talking to, to be telling a particular story.

The general consensus was that David and Tyler had been in a car crash, and that was what held his attention the past few days. "Yes, another one," he confirmed to someone. "They're fine, yes. Perfectly conscious... yes... no... no. Tyler damaged a shoulder... just a strain..."

When he finally got some peace and quiet, he joined me in the lounge with another bottle of wine.

"Is this gonna make you into an alcoholic?" I asked, eyeing it over the screen of my laptop.

"No, I just need to make sure that I sleep."

"That's the kinda thing alcoholics say."

"I'm not an alcoholic, Violet."

He'd made his way through the first glass when another phonecall came. His frown turned to interest at seeing the name. He got to his feet and I tucked my legs back to let him past.

There was no bullshit in his tone. Less than a minute after wandering into the kitchen, he was back, and looking at me.

"John Lloyd and Eleanor Lewis, yes?" he asked.

I frowned, then nodded.

"Yes, that's them," he continued into the call. He straightened as he listened to Lawrence's voice. An expression passed over his face which I likened to satisfaction, but it faded. His hand went to his jaw, then his forefinger and thumb tugged on his bottom lip. "... Right. Okay. Well, no, but..."

'No' what? I stared at him, not wanting to interrupt but burning to know.

"Okay, thank you... Yes, I have her right here with me. Okay, yes. Bye."

"What's going on?" I asked before he'd barely taken the thing from his ear.

"Your parents are alive, but the police have them."

"What do you mean?"

"They've got some crimes under their belt, Violet."

I didn't know how to react. "So... they've been arrested?"

"Basically, yes."

"What's... what's happening, then?"

"I don't know."

"What's Lawrence-"

"This isn't his case. He's done a lot already."

Darren resumed his space on the sofa, and reached for his wine. I sat in a stunned silence. What was I supposed to do?

"Do you, err," I started. "Have a charger for this?" I pulled my phone out of my pocket - carrying around a phone with no battery, fucking useful, right? My charger hadn't come with my laptop and suitcase. I didn't know where it was.

He briefly examined the port in my phone's case. "Upstairs, the room two doors down the left. Tyler keeps a lot of shit in there. I can guarantee there's a charger for any and every model of smartphone to ever grace this planet."

I got my feet. "I need to make a call."

"To who?"

I hesitated and stared at the black screen in my hands, before stepping towards the door. "Someone in my parents' gang."

"Violet." I looked around to his cold gaze. "Don't get involved in anything else."

His awkward manner around me, like he had no idea what to do with me, had dissipated, replaced with a tone you'd expect from an elder family member. Like he was my dad, or something. Or, hell, my uncle.

"I'm not," I replied. "He just needs to know what's going on. Maybe he knows what to do."

"About what?"

"How to help my parents."

Darren's hand went to his brow, but I walked out.

Upstairs, I located that room. It could be heaven for me, free rein to go sticking my nose in and exploring, but I only wanted to find an appropriate charger and didn't care for anything else. There were boxes and boxes of shit. Wires, computer parts, metal bits of cases. It was like every computer, or laptop, or bit of technology Tyler had ever owned, had been ripped apart, the pieces kept and stored there. What for? What was the point?

I found what I was looking for, after enough thudding and clanking around. I plugged my phone in and waited just long enough for it to come alive. Moments after turning it on, some texts poured in.

A couple were from Harold, one even from Romain.

I had voicemails, too. I could probably wait and get a call, but it was better to take the initiative.

"Flower?" Harold's voice asked as he picked up.

"Hi."

"Holy shit, girl. What's been goin' on? I've been hearin' some crazy shit. Where the fuck are you?"

"Things didn't go to plan," I replied.

"Girl. Alan."

"What?"

"Alan Driscoll. He's been taken out. Is it true?"

"Oh, yeah. I shot him."

"What?"

"I didn't kill him, though. Darren Sörensen did."

"What?"

His spluttering and incredulous tone made me want to fuck with him.

"Vi, you took out a fucking Driscoll? What the fuck've you been doin'?"

"There was a police raid."

"Where's your parents?"

"Police got 'em."

There was a long silence. "Violet," he warned. "You speak clear now. What's happened?"

"I led the police to a raid on Driscoll. He's dead. I got nicked, too, but I'm out."

"What? How?"

"Because I know Darren Sörensen."

Another silence. "Vi, what game are you fuckin' playin' at?"

"I don't even know anymore. The police have Mum and Dad, Harold, and I don't know what to do. They were there, where the raid was. The police found them, and apparently they arrested them."

"Well, yeah. Your parents are wanted, girl."

That didn't really surprise me, but I hadn't directly known. "Are they?"

"Yeah, there was a job that went fuckin' pear shaped in Slough just before now. Shit. Fuckin' shit. This is the definition of out the fryin' pan and into the fire. You're an idiot, Vi. Thick as shit."

"Yeah. At least they're alive."

"Fuck. Now what? You really shot Alan Driscoll?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"With a gun someone gave to me."

"Who the fuck are these people you're mixin' with?"

I studied my thumbnail. "Rich and dangerous, apparently."

"What the fuck are we supposed t' do with this bollocks, Vi?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

"Fuck. Fuck."

He hung up on me. What an enlightening conversation. I was glad it was over. I hadn't been able to do my usual fidgeting, as I was tethered to the end of the charger's wire. I left my phone on the floor and went downstairs.

Darren was right where I'd left him on the sofa, looking at his own phone. The contents of the bottle hadn't changed. His second glass sat half empty on the coffee table. He looked up and cocked a brow.

"And?"

"He's pretty pissed," I replied. "Probably hearing from him again at some point." I dropped back into my seat and picked up my laptop. My eyes stared at the webpage I'd left open, but my brain read nothing.

Fuck this.

There was a layer of relief in knowing my parents were alive, but their situation was hell. I knew both would rather die than go behind bars.

"Darren. What do I do?"

He massaged his brow. "I don't know."

"Can I like, talk to the police, or-"

"I think you need to keep out of anything else, right now."

"I have to do something. Can't you do something?"

"Vi-"

"You've got money."

His mouth made lines in his cheeks with a grimace. "This has nothing to do with me. Yes, money. Not as useful as you think. Sometimes it can slip into the pockets of people in forensics and some evidence magically disappears-"

"Is that what you did? When you got us out?"

There was a stretch of silence. Darren was too busy typing a message on his phone. I tried to see the screen without making it obvious, and caught a glimpse of Amelia's name.

"Violet," he said. "You should've asked for help."

"What?"

"Back when this all started. You should've said something, to somebody."

"What was I gonna say? My parents are crooks, and they're in trouble with more crooks, who're like, ransoming them, for two-hundred grand?"

"Yes, exactly that."

"Nobody was gonna fucking help me."

"Why are you so sure of that?"

"Everybody already thinks I'm a gold digger anyways."

He gave me a long stare. "If it was a matter of saving your parents' lives, I'd give you the money, Violet."

"No. You'd just give me two-hundred grand?"

"If I thoroughly understood what it was for, yes."

"No. You cannot be serious."

"I'm very serious."

"Fuck you."

He let out a deep sigh. Fuck knows how, or why, he had any patience with me.

"Will you use that two-hundred grand to save them now?" I dared to ask.

"Tomorrow, Violet. Tomorrow I will see, about anything. I'm too tired to have this conversation right now." He reached for his wine glass.

"People like you don't exist," I said. "I think you're where David gets it from."

"What?"

"Why are you helping me?"

He gave me a look, then his attention was drawn to another vibration from his phone. "You're someone who needs help."

He had a habit of answering questions like that.

---

David

I needed to break things down into manageable chunks. Right then, my goal was seeing how fast I could get out of hospital. Easy enough. Tyler and I weren't exactly in critical conditions. The problem was that my body reached a point where it refused to sleep any more.

The visits were the only thing to look forward to. Wesley came and cheered me up. Violet came and soothed the internal turmoil I'd soon have to face. I managed to have a conversation with Darren, where he gave me blunt information, and not much else.

Mum managed to make me smile, but she looked more and more stressed with every day that passed. I didn't know what to make of Dad. He almost behaved like each visit was an obligation, and he didn't want to be there. But I saw it in his eyes - he was hurting. And beneath that, he was angry.

Things were lingering, but nothing was happening until I was out of hospital. I could see it. There was a pattern to how the visits played out.

After a few days, Tyler and I were moved into another room together. I didn't know if it was because we requested it, or if it was pure coincidence. With how kind and understanding the hospital staff were, I'm sure the they purposely made it happen.

Having Tyler around 24/7 might be enough to drive me insane, but at that point, I appreciated the company. We bantered back and forth, and there was all the typical clowning around anyone could expect. Tyler kept winding up the nurses, telling them how perfectly okay he was, taking off his sling, leaving the room when he shouldn't, getting chased down the corridor, and making a general nuisance of himself. Normal stuff.

The thing was, any time I chuckled or grinned, it seemed to make him equally happy.

One memorable mealtime he argued with a nurse about how he didn't like his food, and wanted it swapped. She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

"That's what you ordered."

"Yeah, and now I'm eating it, I don't like it."

Since he'd half consumed it, she didn't want to comply. He resorted to some of the worst flirting I'd ever seen to persuade her, and it only lasted until she pulled the confused, "Aren't you gay?" card.

I nearly spat out my own mouthful. She finally took his tray to get him something else, rather than hear his spiel.

"You've lost your touch with women," I said.

"Kid, you've never had any touch with women."

"Hey, I scored Violet."

"No, Violet scored you."

I guffawed. Shit. He was right. "Yeah, well. Her and Wes are supposed to be coming in a bit."

"You mean your dad's letting Wes anywhere near her?"

And just like that, the joking hit reality too heavily. I poked at my food with an awkward pause. "Dad's really pissed with her."

"Yeah," Tyler agreed with a sigh, realising he'd killed the mood. "He is."

The visits involved Dad and Violet dodging around each other. From what I'd picked up on, Mum and Darren were doing everything possible to keep her away from him.

I didn't like it. I felt like I had to get out, to protect her. From my dad. Ridiculous.

"He's never trusted her," Tyler continued.

Him saying that felt like it should be a crippling realisation of nightmares coming true, but I was pretty indifferent. Perhaps because all along, I'd kinda known. "He hasn't, huh."

"No, he looks at her too much. And you don't have the same taste in women, kid."

I managed a smirk. "Do you trust her?"

"She shot the guy who was trying to kill me. We're cool."

I think Tyler was physically incapable of holding grudges. It was always water under the bridge with him.

"Shit, I wonder if the police found my car yet."

"Did they trash it?"

"No, they dumped it somewhere. Overheard them discussing how they'd need a fence." Irritation flashed across his face, the mere thought that they'd steal and sell off his favourite car.

"Tyler."

"What?"

"You know, um. When the police came."

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks for... like, making sure I didn't do anything stupid."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Thanks for not killing me, kid."

"I-"

"It was pretty dramatic, wasn't it? Fucking cops."

"I guess."

*

My stitches came out after seven days. We both got out of hospital right after. They wanted to keep Tyler in for a bit longer, but he wasn't having it. There was talk about things we were supposed to do, or not to do. I wasn't supposed to partake in any strenuous activity, Tyler was supposed to keep his sling until his check-up. Everybody knew that wasn't happening.

I was happy to be getting out, but there was a problem. I didn't know what the fuck was going on.

Wesley turned up with Mum. Violet turned up with Darren. There was some chatter, where Vi and Wes stayed in the room while I gathered my few things, and Tyler disappeared into the corridor. When we left, the three 'adults' were stood there having an 'adult' conversation.

There's a lot you can pick up from intuition and vibes. Tyler looked around to my presence, but Mum and Darren were a little more engrossed.

"Mum," I said, cutting into their voices. "Vi's coming home with us."

She looked at me, and hesitated. Thoughts passed through her eyes. She probably wanted to discuss things, but it still wasn't the 'time or place'. I wondered if it'd ever be the time or place. "Okay," she finally said.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 09



Stepping outside, the sunshine felt like a wave of reality to smack me in the face. No matter what happens, the world keeps turning. Life doesn't wait for you. I'd had a week 'off', and now I was returning, and wanted - no, needed - to fix whatever had become broken in my absense.

I needed to talk to Dad, I knew that.

As we approached Mum's car, I had a little urge to ask if I could drive, but didn't bother, as I knew the answer anyways. We followed Darren's Jag out of the carpark, then all the way to his house. We hung around for however long it took for Violet to collect her things.

God, it was so weird. Everyone was trying to act like normal, but things weren't normal. The constant underlying tension could make me sick.

Violet was reserved, and it scared me. I didn't want to see her back in that cold and emotionless state, but she was closing up, slowly but surely.

There was no trace of Hanna when we got home. That wasn't a good sign, either. Violet went ahead of me, lugging her suitcase upstairs to my room. I paused with my hand on the bannister, and looked at Wes, who shrugged at me. I followed, and found her sprawled on my bed. I stepped over the suitcase and leant down to kiss her cheek.

"I'm gonna shower."

"Okay."

It was a long, hot shower. I wasn't sure if it helped me feel any better. I heard the front door opening and closing while drying off - Dad was home. When I returned to my room in nothing but a towel, Violet had propped herself up against the wall with the pillows, legs crossed beneath her laptop.

She looked at me. Not my face - her eyes stayed on my body. It was enough to give me the slightest butterflies, marred by her lack of expression. I stepped closer and she moved the laptop aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and reached out to touch my stomach. Her fingers brushed over the healing wound on my side, and she studied it.

"Are scars sexy?" I asked.

Her eyes softened and she managed a little smile. "Everything about you is sexy." She kissed my stomach, then shifted across the bed, inviting me to sit.

The signals were mixed. She didn't seem interested, but I couldn't deny that I wanted it. She was too distracted, and distant, and I wanted it to stop. I wanted her to focus on me.

It was a bad time, anyways. I'd already smelt dinner cooking. We were only kissing, not too heavily, when Wesley knocked and poked his head through the door without waiting for a reply.

"Yeah, food, and stuff."

I put some clothes on, and made sure to stay ahead of Violet as we went downstairs to the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table, but I don't know why I went in with my guard up. He didn't look like there was any fight in him. His whole posture sagged with exhaustion, he was up to his eyeballs in stress. Life went on. He was still juggling company business on top of everything.

He gave me a genuine look that didn't need words. He cared, and he was very glad to see me out of hospital. It's just that his eyes slid across Violet like she didn't exist.

It was a strange and quiet dinner. Hanna wasn't there, and everything felt wrong.

Even afterward, I had no idea how to start a conversation with Dad. What exactly did I want to say? Where to start it? He wasn't making it any easier. Just like Violet, he was closed up, and made it very obvious that he wanted to avoid any and all interactions.

Violet and I retreated behind the door of my room, but even we seemed plagued with trying to act normal when neither of us felt it. I put on a movie, but twenty minutes in, a scene with gunfire came up. I turned it off without thinking, and as soon as I'd realised my mindless impulse, I felt stupid to put it back on again. Violet said nothing.

We were both tired. We hadn't said anything meaningful to each other the whole day. She leisurely began to undress, and I did as well. I was down to my boxers when she perched on the side of the bed with her back to me. I reached over to undo the clasp of her bra, then slid my hands around the front, over her breasts. She leant back against me. I just needed to feel her, her body, her skin against mine.

Apparently it was mutual, as she turned to push me down on the mattress and kiss me. I think the intent was there, we just didn't get anywhere. She laid her weight on top of me, and we kissed, and ground a little, and kissed some more. The intensity never escalated. My hands traced down her back, but when my fingers hooked in her waistband she tensed, tearing her lips away from mine.

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's okay." I meant it. Neither of us really had the energy.

She relaxed, and rolled aside to remove the tiny bit of clothing that remained. I stroked along her thigh, up her stomach. I just wanted to feel her. She gave me a happy smile and tugged at my boxers. I took them off while she turned off the light.

It wasn't fully dark outside yet, and I watched her figure return to the bed through the faint light piercing the curtains. We could sleep early, that was okay. I lifted the duvet and she clambered in beside me, and snuggled up against me. I held her tight.

Even if I'd done too much sleeping at the hospital, the comfort of having her in my arms let me drift off easily enough.

*

Darren's voice has a way of piercing solid objects. Like walls, and floors. I didn't expect to be jolted awake by it. I blinked at the ceiling in confusion, trying to determine whether I was having some weird dream.

Violet's body shifted beside me and I checked my phone. Somewhere around midday. Why was Darren here?

I sat up further, rubbing my eyes and grimacing. The volume. It was shouting, infuriated yelling. Darren and Dad's voices going at each other, holy shit, it sounded like thunder. A stone of dread was settling in my stomach as I stumbled around for clothes.

I made brief eye contact with Vi. "Shit," she said.

Yes. Shit.

After struggling with some tracksuits I was out the door, down the stairs. It just got louder. I didn't know what I was walking in to.

They were in the kitchen. Wesley's body blocked the door from the lounge, but he tossed a wide-eyed glance over his shoulder and stepped aside for me.

Mum stood by the back door, staring out into the garden. Tyler was leaning against the counter and staring at the floor.

Dad and Darren seemed to take up all the space in that room. The volume was unbearable, just an explosion of sound every time either said something. They were shouting over each other. This was what it looked like, when both simultaneously snapped and resorted to the most juvenile tactics.

I don't think any domestics are pleasant, verbal or physical, but this wasn't normal, not for my family. There was a tension that was cutting deep. Some kind of severity that had Mum and Tyler in silence, Wesley looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

It could get worse. Dad was bristling, showing the weight in his shoulders. Darren stood his ground.

Before then, I never could've imagined Darren swinging a fist at my father. But things were different now. My heart thudded sickeningly against my ribs as I watched what might unfold.

They couldn't fight. Who would stop them? Wesley, and get snapped in half? Tyler, when his shoulder was still fucked up? Me? I didn't believe I could take on my dad. I'd heard a lot of stories, but I'd never seen him get truly violent. I didn't want to.

And there was Darren. Staring him down, almost as if daring him to do it.

It was all on Dad controlling his anger. Not swinging that first punch.

A thousand thoughts raced through my head while I tried to piece together the words I was hearing, tried to understand what the argument was even about.

Dad had said something 'incriminating' to someone called Lawrence, about Violet. Darren was going apeshit about it, but Dad was vehemently denying every accusation.

What a fucking mess. I looked across the room at Mum in desperation, but she kept her gaze fixed on the garden, shaking her head to herself.

They were finally quietening. There was even a pause for a breather.

I couldn't help but feel this was my fault. I was ripping this family apart. If I'd just spoken to Dad last night...

"I would've thought someone like you had a little more compassion," Darren snapped.

"Why w-"

"What's your problem? Don't like the fact that she shot people with the gun you gave to her?"

"No-"

"That she comes from a background identical to your own?"

"It's not."

Darren scoffed. "It basically is. What is it, Zack? Does she scare you?"

"Darren-"

"What's your problem?"

"She's a fucking sociopath!"

"And you're not?!"

There was a brief silence, where Dad looked like that had pierced his armour.

"Stop this shit, Zack. Just stop."

This had been brewing that whole week.

"You're being irrational," Darren continued.

"I am? For fuck sa-"

"You go saying this bullsh-"

"It's not what I said-"

"Give me this fucking mess?"

"It's not my fault! Someone put two and two together and got on Lawrence's arse about it. For fuck sake, Darren. If you're gonna pay someone to manipulate a case at least pay someone who can do it!"

"That's not what he's doing-"

"The fuck it ain't!"

Darren rubbed his brow. "So you go saying-"

"No-"

"Zack. You want her to rot in prison?"

Dad gave him a dark glare, and no immediate response. "You've made it your personal mission to be good samaritan, huh?" he growled. "And want me to do all the work."

"No-"

The voices boomed again.

"Look at what she's done!"

Darren was getting animated. "She made a mistake!"

"A hell of a mistake!"

"And you were perfect at nineteen, were you? Always made better decisions?"

"Yes, actually-"

"No," Tyler cut in. "You didn't."

Dad's glare moved to Tyler, who stared back at him and didn't flinch.

"Jesus, Zack. Everybody does stupid shit in the heat of the moment. We know that better than anybody, huh? If I can get over it, so can you."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking serious."

The silence that followed was just as unsettling as the shouting.

Darren swallowed, staring at the floor, before looking back up. "When did we ever turn you away?"

Dad lost his composure. He sat himself down at the table and buried his head into his hands.

Mum placed a hand on his shoulder. "Zack, everybody deserves a chance. She needs help, and you can help her."

"She won't listen to a word I say."

"Dad," I said. "I just... If you'd just talk to her. She's not a bad person." The eyes in the room fixed on me, then moved past me. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Violet's figure disappearing out of the lounge. Shit.

I was torn. I wanted to go running after her, but also wanted to stay and see this argument resolved. If I heard the front door I knew to panic.

Mum looked annoyed, like she took the fact that Violet might've listened to the entire exchange very personally - it was her house, her hospitality that had been compromised. Her eyes moved between Dad and Darren. "Are you two quite finished?"

"What-" Dad started.

"Are you done?" she snapped. "Good God. Is the pecking order settled now? Figured out who's 'alpha'?"

Tyler smirked, but Mum's eyes kept moving between them like she was scolding little children.

"Absolutely fucking shameful."

Darren looked to the floor. Dad managed to bury his head even further into his hands.

"Mum, I..."

She just nodded at me, and gestured for me to leave, to go after Violet. I rushed upstairs. I wasn't sure what state I expected to find her in. Upset, maybe crying. Maybe angry and frustrated.

She was sitting on the bed, and looked unnervingly calm.

"Hey," I started. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"Dad's just, he's got issues, he'll get over it. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, David. I walked out before someone said something to me. It's not my place."

I stood very still for a moment, trying to decide what to do. People just don't act like that, so cool and collected. Something was wrong. "Vi, my dad..."

"I think he's right."

"What?"

"Yeah. I think you're all idiots and he's the only smart person in this family."

I stared at her in disbelief.

She fidgeted a bit. "David, I don't think I should be here."

"No-"

"My parents are gonna go to prison. I don't really know what to do. I think I should sign up to the service. Maybe that'll sort me out."

"No, don't you fucking dare." I sat beside her and slung my arm around her shoulders. "It's gonna be fine, Vi. Everything's gonna be okay." She leant into me. At least she was still accepting of affection. She wasn't pushing me away.

There were faint voices from downstairs, and eventually the sound of the front door shutting. I guessed Darren and Tyler left. Wesley's footsteps came upstairs, then his room door shut, heavily. He had a shift at the restaurant in a few hours.

I didn't want to go out to see anybody. I didn't want to leave Violet.

A short while later, the front door shut again. Either Mum, or Dad, or both of them, had left. Then Wesley left - he didn't call in sick or anything, no, just went and got on with life. He was probably more than happy to get out of the house at that point.

When I eventually went downstairs around 5pm, the house was empty. I guessed it was a slightly better sign if Mum and Dad had gone out together. I was reminded of my thoughts at the hospital - it wasn't about me. Everybody had issues they were working through, things that had been stirred up and they needed to face.

"Vi," I said, leaning back through my bedroom's door. "Looks like we're eating alone tonight. What do you want for dinner?"

She pulled a little smile while staring at her laptop. "Pasta."

I snorted. "I can cook other things, you know."

"It's okay, I don't really feel like anything else."

We had another weird evening of trying to act normal.

*

The next day, Tyler and I had to go down to the station to give statements. I was confused, and mildly alarmed, but Darren assured me everything was fine. Before I went in, I spoke with the 'Lawrence' man from the argument. He made sure I understood everything I had to say. I simply had to explain what my entire involvement with the Driscoll raid had been. It wasn't anything to do with Violet. Well, not exactly.

We were lying. Or giving half-information, more accurately. Whatever it was, Lawrence made sure I'd say what I needed to, and I complied. I didn't want to screw something up or see anybody in trouble.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, as I walked back out to the car with Tyler and Darren.

"This," Darren replied, referring to the whole Driscoll ordeal with a wave of his hand towards the station's building, "is over with."

"Yeah, and everything else?"

"How's Violet?" he asked. I wasn't sure if him answering my question with a question was some sort of avoidance.

"I'm not really sure," I replied. "I don't think she knows, either."

"Keep her talking," Tyler said.

Tyler thought talking was the cure for all problems. There was truth in it, though. Bottling up never helped anybody. Violet had been pretty quiet, but I didn't know how to break it. I was too scared of saying the wrong thing.

"Are we gonna talk?" I asked, clambering into the backseat.

"About what, kid?"

"Everything."

"Yeah, we will. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Still too much shit going on."

They dropped me off home, and I walked down the driveway, studying the exterior of my house. It felt like everybody was existing around each other. I didn't like it. I wanted things smoothed over. My parents and uncles had been through all sorts of shit before, hadn't they? So they could get through this.

I could get through this, and so could Vi. I went straight upstairs to find her.

My bedroom was empty. Okay... I checked the bathroom. Empty.

Back to my room. Her suitcase was gone. So was her laptop.

There was a note, on my desk. A hand-written fucking note. It was strange to pick it up and read it. I'd barely even known what her hand-writing looked like before.

What. The. Fuck.

"Mum!" I thundered down the stairs. "Mum!"

She was in the study, on her computer. I burst in like a storm and she scowled at me. I didn't mean to be behaving like that, the burst of panic was just too much.

"Why'd you let her go?" I boomed.

"What?"

"Violet!"

"What-"

"She's gone!"

"She went out for a walk twenty minutes ago."

"A walk?! Her suitcase is gone, she's taken her shit! She's packed up! You just let her sneak out under your nose?"

Mum gave me an incredulous look. "What?"

"She's gone to sign up to the fucking service! She wants to be drafted!"

"David-"

"For fuck sake, Mum!"

She got to her feet in answer to my raised voice. "Was I supposed to keep her locked up here?!"

"Yeah, basically! She's fucking unstable!"

"David-"

"When did she leave? Twenty minutes ago?"

"That's what I-"

"She's probably walking to the station. I can still catch her, I have to stop her."

"David, stop."

No, I couldn't stop. There wasn't time to think. Violet was off being Violet again and I had to keep up with her. I needed a car. I rushed out to the hallway with Mum on my heels.

"David, if she needs some space-"

"No, she doesn't!"

"Would you listen to yourself?!"

Yeah, I got it. I sounded like that psycho controlling boyfriend. But Mum didn't understand. She couldn't. She didn't know Violet like I did. I wasn't going to watch her walk headfirst into another disaster. Maybe if I'd been a little stronger before, the whole Driscoll disaster would've never happened.

Dad blocked my way, and my blood boiled. I didn't have time for this.

He didn't glare, he didn't say anything, and held out his car keys instead. I took them before I had a chance to be stunned and left out the front door.

---

Violet

I was perhaps five minutes away from the central station, staring at the floor and lost in my own world. It was a self-inflicted agony, and I knew that, but I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing.

My suitcase's little wheels made a constant noise across the pavement. It wasn't really a dragging noise, it was just gravelly, annoying. Loud enough to be obnoxious.

You know what else was obnoxious? A car steering across the wrong side of the road, up onto the curb, and nearly hitting me.

A black SUV. With privacy glass. I backed away from the opening door, tossing a glare at the driver.

"You fucking idiot," David growled.

Why was he here.

I tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase and stared at him in a frozen moment. My mind blanked. This wasn't going to plan. He was supposed to be busy at the police station, I was supposed to be out of town. I knew he'd kick up a fuss, and that was why I had to be gone.

"Why do you think you're fucking doing?" he continued.

"The right thing," I replied.

"No." He tentatively stepped forward, but I didn't move. His hand gripped my shoulder, then moved to cup my cheek. "Stop this. Come home, and talk."

I stared at him, and couldn't think of what to say. He took the strap of my laptop bag and lifted it over my head, then reached around to take the handle of my suitcase. I released it. I stood perfectly still while he put both in the boot of the car.

"Vi, come on. Please." He held the still-open driver's door and watched me.

I walked around the bonnet to the passenger side, but when I reached out for the handle, it kicked in.

Fuck this.

I was off. My body leapt to action without orders. Running, as usual. Running from everything I couldn't face.

I heard the slam of a car door behind me, but I didn't look. I didn't stop. I raced to the end of the street, took a right turn, and kept going. The buildings were all high, I just needed to climb. I knew he was chasing.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 09



There was a drainpipe up a wall in front of me, and I took it, right past a CCTV camera. Fuck it. I was up the first ledge, onto another. Ran to scale the second roof.

Once up there, there was no hesitation and no thinking. Just running, jumping. Scraping my palms on rough bricks, dropping and feeling the slam in my ankles with a bad landing. Keeping balance across slanted tiles, up to flat roof.

He was right behind me. Fuck. Higher.

I had to commend his perseverance, but I knew how to lose him. And yet when I came to it, I hesitated. I could make the jump, I knew I could. But David couldn't. He'd fuck it up. He'd follow anyways. He'd try the jump even if it could kill him.

The simple knowledge that he'd hurt himself if he kept chasing me, made me stop. I lost my momentum at the edge, staring at the escape that became impossible.

I heard him thud down behind me, and turned to face him. He'd caught me. Of course he had. I'd taught him how. He stopped where he was, gasping for breath, watching me across the distance, waiting to see what I'd do. I didn't do anything.

He stepped forward and I moved away from the edge. Cortisol hadn't worked, so now it was adrenaline's turn.

My fist smacked across his face. A tooth cut his lip and sliced into my knuckles. He staggered in shock. I was shocked. And then in the timeframe of a split second, he swung back.

I didn't have time to dodge. I moved with it. There was an impact across my cheek and I stumbled a few steps to the side. The pain came moments later. I couldn't stand. I doubt he hit me with all his strength, something harder could have knocked me out. I tumbled to my butt in an ungainly fashion.

I needed a few seconds to recover, clasping at the smarting side of my face, and looked at the stinging cut across my knuckles of the opposite hand.

"Shit," he breathed.

I looked up to his eyes, wide and as startling green as always.

"I'm so sorry..."

"I deserved that," I croaked.

"No..." He crouched down in front of me. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He gingerly reached out to touch me, but stopped, as if he thought he'd make it worse.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. Vi, I'm so sorry."

"Stop fucking apologising."

His worried eyes moved off me as he touched at his lip and looked at the blood on his fingers. I turned my knuckles in the light.

"You still got all your teeth?" I asked.

"Yeah." He placed his hand over my own on my face. I moved it and he took over cupping my cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

The tears started. It was pain, inside and out. I loved him so much. Why did I keep hurting him?

He sat beside me and I buried my face into his chest, sobbing my heart out, crying like I hadn't done in years. There were so many things pent up. So many stupid things. Things that were my fault, things that weren't. Things I should've done better, things I couldn't change.

I racked with sobs, and he held me while I squeezed my arms around his middle. If he was still feeling any pain from that graze wound, he didn't let me know.

Rooves aren't always pleasant. There can be dirt and moss, plastic bags that've blown in the wind, and plenty of bird shit. Yet it also feels hidden and removed from the world. I wouldn't have chosen somewhere else to have that moment. I cried until my eyes stung and my throat hurt. My breathing was a hyperventilating mess, but I gradually calmed it, and sniffed until my sinuses begged me to stop.

I felt... released. Like I'd just let something bad out and gotten rid of it.

David's hand stroked my hair. "I love you, Vi."

"I love you too." I sat a little straighter and looked at his face, touching at his lip. My fingers came away bloody. "I'm really sorry, for doing that."

"It's fine."

"No it's not."

"At least you fought back for once."

I frowned, he smirked, then clasped at his lip in some attempt to stop the bleeding.

"You gotta stop running from everything, Vi."

"I stopped, because I was gonna jump," I swallowed and gestured in the general direction, "over there, and you were gonna follow, because you're stupid, and you'd fuck it up, and you'd hurt yourself."

"Cheers for saving me a broken leg."

"Or worse. I... I really love you."

"So why are you trying to leave me?"

"I'm bad for you. I'm bad for your family. I'm just bad."

"No, for fuck sake. You think worse of yourself than anyone else thinks of you."

"Your dad hates me."

"No, he doesn't. He gave me his car keys. He wanted me to come get you."

I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling a strange mix of exhausted and freshly energised.

"We have to talk, Vi."

"About what?"

"About everything."

"I don't know what to say."

"You'll figure it out." He shifted, pushing me away as he got to his feet. I watched him, but didn't immediately rise. "We should just go, get away from everything, just for a bit."

"Go where?"

"I know somewhere."

"... Okay."

I was surprisingly shaky, but got to my feet and found us a way down. After a brief moment of wondering where we'd ended up and figuring out what the street was, we tracked back to the car. We received a few looks from people around - perhaps they'd witnessed our whole little chase, or were wondering why David had a split lip and I was sucking my knuckles.

More luck, that he'd left the car pulled up on yellow lines and it hadn't been touched yet. We quickly got in, and he drove. I didn't know where to. I kept apologising about his lip, and he kept telling me it was fine. It just took so long to stop bleeding.

"You've got sharp teeth," I said.

He chuckled, and reached out his left hand to squeeze my thigh.

*

David had everything planned out. First, we stopped at a supermarket and picked up some food. Then, he drove out of town, into the countryside.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Some woods. Used to go there when I was a kid. You know, like, mountain biking, without any mountains."

"You got a mountain bike?"

"Yeah, in the shed. It's a bit small now."

I watched fields going past beyond the window. "Is it okay? To take your dad's car out like this."

"I'd text him, but I kinda lost my phone."

"I, err, I got Tyler's number?"

"He kinda lost his phone too."

"Oh. Duh. Oh, wait, I got your dad's number."

We pulled up to wherever the destination was. It was the kind of place full of nature trails, and had a small carpark. I handed my phone over to David, and he thumbed some brief message to Zack, then we picked up the bags and got out.

"So we're having, like, a picnic?" I asked.

"Pretty much."

The first few minutes of the walk were a comfortable silence. I didn't understand what I was supposed to do, or what David wanted. He eventually eased me up with a few well-placed questions. Before I knew it words were pouring out of my mouth. Verbal diarrhoea, that's what it was. It seemed to go in aimless circles, but it must have made some sort of sense to me at the time because I kept talking.

I talked about when I was a child, how I'd always wanted a BMX and never got one. How I once stole a skateboard and broke it after two days - one of the wheels came off then I snapped it in half. Harold scolded me about it... It was with a strange twinge that I realised I had memories of people like Harold from when I was 5 years old, or maybe younger. There'd been so many people who always seemed to be there, and then disappeared. It didn't always mean they were dead, I just had so many faint memories of the ways things kept changing and shifting. My childhood was divided in the chunks of different events. I remembered those events before I remembered what I'd been doing, how I'd felt, or how I'd coped.

I'd grown up having to exist in whatever situation I found myself in. I learnt to run because if I didn't, I'd have to fight. And I'd been taught that fighting was the last resort. If you weren't strong enough to win the fight, you were caught. So many people around me, they'd all known they weren't strong enough, but they kept going regardless, because they were determined to live.

I had some sort of shell, because I'd needed it. I'd spent too much time around certain people, who needed to see me a certain way. The problem is that when you live a lie long enough, you even start to believe it yourself.

The more we talked, the more we strayed from the marked paths, until we were picking our own way through undergrowth and plantlife. The environment was so calming, the singing birds, the dappled sunlight coming through the canopy of leaves. How did David know to take me somewhere like that?

It hit me like a brick in the middle of a mostly unrelated sentence. I didn't know who I was.

Wear a mask for too long, and you forget what's beneath.

I stopped walking, and David eventually realised my crunching footsteps had ended, looking over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow.

I tried to explain in another jumble of words.

It almost made me light-headed. How could I not know myself? How much of me was suppressed, how much was a fake bravado? What was conditioned, what was genuine?

I'm almost ashamed to admit that at that point in my life, David understood me better than I did. I guess it could make sense. It's not like I spent all day looking in the mirror. He'd spent enough time observing me to know what was real and what was a cover. He knew what it looked like when I really smiled. How my eyes danced when something got me excited. He saw how I closed up to the bad things.

I argued that I only closed up to protect myself, because that was how to get through things. He said that if something closed me up, it should be removed from my life.

David knew who he was. He'd been raised to know, by people who loved him. The way I saw it, his whole upbringing gave him the foundations he needed to go out into the world and be himself. Something everyone should have, and sadly too many didn't.

I couldn't even be jealous. His life was too different to mine, too alien to relate to. My parents loved me, I made sure he knew that. He didn't disagree. I was just the unfortunate by-product of their choices.

Well, yeah. I had been born an accident.

There was only so much they could do, and I always believed they'd done their best. They'd tried to raise me with good values. The bad things about me, I'd developed those by myself, by clashing with the outside world.

We came out to an area of the woods that was more open - more space between trunks, and less undergrowth. Another silence descended over us. It wasn't a bad thing. In fact it was annoying when my ringtone broke it. I wasn't aware that I'd ever taken my phone off silent.

I pulled it out of my pocket to check, and wasn't sure what to do.

"Who is it?" David asked.

"Harold." I stared at the screen as it vibrated in my hand.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important."

"No, it's not. Not right now."

It rang out. "He'll call again. He'll keep ringing until I answer." Another call obediently came through.

David took the phone from my hands, turned it off, and slipped it into a back pocket of his jeans. "It can wait." He dropped the bags to the floor.

"Yeah, but-"

He put a hand on my stomach and shoved me against the trunk of a tree. And kissed me. I didn't return it with much fervour, still worried about his split lip and annoyed that my sentence had been cut short. He pulled back and I scowled at him, then finally twigged what he was doing with a sheepish grin.

"Fuck sake. How it started, huh?"

"Yeah, and the weather's better this time." He pulled his shirt up and over his head.

I blinked as his beautiful torso came into view. "Oh, wow. Okay." I stroked my hand up his stomach and raked my fingers through the hair on his chest. "For being a potato in hospital for a week, you still look pretty good."

He smirked. "A potato?"

"Yeah, well-"

He closed the slight distance, pinning me against the tree again. The kiss was patient, and gentle, gradually deepening while his hands squeezed my waist.

His tongue probed my lips and I let him in. I ran my hands up to his neck, down to his jeans, and hooked my fingers in the waistband to give him a tug against me. A very hard cock pressed against my hip.

His hands ventured higher, lifting my tank top and breaking the kiss. I raised my arms, but he left me to finish removing it while he attacked the clasp of my bra. He cupped my face and brought his mouth back to mine, then his hands stroked down my neck, over my breasts, giving an affectionate squeeze before continuing lower.

His lips followed, kissing and sucking down my throat, across my clavicle to a shoulder. He dragged his tongue over a nipple and I shuddered, but he kept moving down until he was kneeling, his face level with my stomach. His hot tongue quickly left cold patches against the fresh air. He poked it into my navel, I flinched and giggled. He grinned up at me.

"You're so beautiful."

"Yeah, you're pretty handsome yourself."

He hooked his fingers in the pockets of my jeans, giving a brash tug so I stumbled forward, landing on his chest with him flat on his back.

"So here, huh?" I asked, looking down at his face.

He pushed me off like it was no effort at all, reached for our discarded clothing, then laid the tops out like a makeshift blanket over the dirt. "There you are."

"So resourceful."

He hooked his hands under my arms and half lifted, half dragged me, dropping me down. Then he was between my legs, leaning over me, lowering his body against mine. He ground into me, and I pressed back. A flush of heat passed through my nerves, from the fork of my legs, all over.

We were making out in a tangle of limbs, mouths only parting for brief inhales. He tried to pull back and I bit his lip with a growl, followed by his little pained grunt. I quickly released him.

"Easy," he chuckled.

"Sorry, I just, I want you."

"Yeah." His hand slipped beneath my jeans and stroked through the slick mess in my knickers. My hips lifted, trying to press harder against his fingers.

I needed this. I needed him. We both struggled out of our remaining clothes.

I had always been myself around David. It was something I'd realised early on, when he made me so relaxed in his company. Perhaps in our most raw, intimate moments, was when I'd been in my most honest state. I mean, I'd never faked an orgasm.

He was doing everything in his power to bring me to another one, burying his face into my pussy, assaulting me with lips and tongue. It was rough, and hungry, but I loved it. He sucked on my clit, and one look down the length of my body with his eyes gazing up at me did it. My hips bucked and I gripped his hair, trembling with each pulse, each wave of pleasure. The moans ripped out of my throat whether I wanted it or not, but I didn't care. We were in the middle of nowhere. I could be as loud as I wanted.

I laid with my eyes closed, panting, basking in the bliss. He shifted, touching his hairy thighs against mine, and stroked his shaft up and over my sensitive clit. I flinched, he smirked. We held eye contact as he pressed at the entrance, and slowly slid inside me.

I always loved that moment, how my body responded when he filled me. Every tingle and twitch, how it could take my breath away. I guess the look on his face mirrored my own. He moaned and gripped my hips.

It just felt how things were supposed to be. Everything was give and take. We both loved making each other come. 

He fucked me with everything that had built up since our last time. His hands grasped at different places, pulling me against him, holding me down while he drove into me. He kissed my neck, traced my ear with his lips, and exhaled a growl. I shivered, arching my spine to press into him. He was claiming me, reminding me that I was his.

And he was mine. I rolled him over with some effort, wrapping my legs around his middle and pushing him aside. He turned onto his back with a smile. I straddled him, and rode him, alternating between fast and slow, gripping his chest, stroking my hands down his stomach.

His body tensed beneath me. I kept up a steady rhythm to push him over the edge. Maybe he didn't want to finish that fast, but I didn't care. I wanted to hear him, watch him. He held my thighs, holding my gaze.

"Oh God," he breathed. "Fuck..."

He came with a throaty groan, muscles taut and hips bucking to get deeper inside me. Then he released and relaxed, with a goofy grin on his face.

"Fuck sake, Vi."

I smirked. "What?"

He didn't reply, eyes watching his hands as they moved up my body from my thighs. He stroked and squeezed, feeling every inch of me, as though he hadn't taken the time to do so before. I laid myself down across him. His heart pounded through his ribs in a rhythm just a bit slower than my own. He traced my spine with gentle fingers while we stayed in a contented silence.

His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled my cheek. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "A bit." I lifted myself, peeling my sweaty skin away from his. It might've been cooler in the shade, but it was still warm weather. We were a bit of a mess.

He gave me his boxers to clean up, then we raided the bags. There we were, completely naked, sitting on our clothes in the middle of the woods somewhere, pigging out on an abundance of snack food for our dinner.

I was happy.

"So it had to be here, huh," I said as I picked a crumbly dead leaf out of my hair.

"Well, I thought it was hot," he replied through a mouthful.

I chuckled. "Yeah but I mean, your dad's car has a pretty spacious backseat."


"We're not fucking in Dad's car."

"No?"

"Just no. When I have my own car we'll fuck in it however much you want, okay?"

I leant against his shoulder with a grin. "I love you."

"I love you too." He caressed my cheek and his smile faded. "You've got a bit of a bruise showing up."

"And your bottom lip is sliced in half. Whatever."

"I don't know what to say when we get home."

"We got in a fight?"

"Yeah, literally. Mum's gonna be angry with me."

"Tell her I hit you first?"

"So she'll be angry at you too, won't stop her being angry with me."

I let out a sigh that sounded a bit like one of Wesley's exaggerated ones, then studied David's jeans on the ground, and the little shape of my phone in the back pocket. "Should I call Harold?"

"No, don't talk to any of those people until you've talked with my dad."

"Okay."

We stayed out there until the sunlight breaking the canopy faded, keeping away from everything like David wanted, just for a while.

---



Hornet's Nest Ch. 10



---

Violet

Things were going to get sorted. Slowly, maybe painfully. Not likely to end up perfect, but at least bearable.

We got back pretty late. Amelia opened the front door before David got his key in the lock. He was right, that she'd be angry. The first thing she saw was his lip, and she frowned with a trace of confusion. Then she saw the bruise on my cheek, and her eyes went livid. She shot David a glare.

He could've bullshitted about how we ran into some trouble, but of course, he wasn't a liar. The guilt was far too obvious on his face.

"For God sake, David," she snapped. She looked about ready to slap him, but that would be hypocritical, wouldn't it? She did nothing of the sort.

"It's okay," I said. "Please, really, it's okay."

She shook her head, but left us to it. We went upstairs, took a shower together, and went to bed.

*

The next day was mostly spent with Wesley. He was ready to talk, too. He'd been stewing and thinking, and now he finally made his mind up on how he felt... Or not. The three of us sat on David's bed for a couple of hours, going through everything.

"You know what pisses me off the most?" Wesley asked. "It's that I saw this. Well, not this, exactly. But there was always something about you that seemed 'off', Vi."

I couldn't forget him coming into social sciences and having a go at me, nor his very first introduction. "Yeah, I looked like a 'gang kid' to you, huh?"

"Well I was right, wasn't I?"

"Not exactly."

"Yeah, okay, it's your parents' gang, you're still basically in it."

"But I'm not-"

"Look, shut up, stop being pedantic. I thought you were just a bit of a shady bitch, but it was worse than that, wasn't it? I just feel like I had something, like some gut instinct, and I didn't follow on it."

"And you feel like this is your fault?"

"No, not really. Sorta. I dunno. I just hate the whole thing, I hate everything that's happened."

"What were you gonna do? Tell David not to be with me and fall out with him?"

David smirked and Wesley shrugged.

"Well, I did tell you not to fuck with my family, Vi. And you still went and did it. Worse than I ever expected."

"I know."

"It's so fucked up. I want to be angry at you but I just... I can't. I mean, I like you. And it's kinda not your fault, and it kinda is."

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry, Wes."

"I don't want to be angry, that's what it is. I don't want to hate you, I don't want to lose you as a friend. I don't want you and David to break up. I don't want Dad and Darren to yell at each other. I don't want things to not be okay. And I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I don't know if I should be taking some kind of stand here, or just letting it all fade into history."

"Everything is gonna be okay," David said.

"Yeah, I guess. But I'm just really confused. It's like I don't have an opinion."

"You want more time to think?"

"No, I'm done, I'm fuckin' done thinking about this shit, man." He sighed. "I just want to move on. I mean, is that okay? Or does it mean I'm just ignoring this whole thing and not dealing with it?"

"Forgive but don't forget?" I offered.

He chuckled. "I guess that works. I dunno. I wanna know how you feel, Vi. What were you thinking?"

David snorted before I could come up with an answer. "What was going on in her head, right? Wes, don't even bother. I don't understand her. She doesn't understand her."

I tossed him a look, but didn't really take any offence. He was right, so what was the point? "What was going through my head, was that I had to do whatever it took to try and save my parents, because I knew they'd do the same for me."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, you shot people. You killed people. You're not even gonna get in trouble for it. How do you feel about that?"

"Honestly, nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nope."

There was a genuinely troubled expression on Wesley's face, and he looked at David. "Fucking hell, it's just like Tyler. He doesn't give a shit either."

"I know," David replied.

"And Dad. Zero fucks there."

"Darren shot people too," I said.

"Yeah, but he actually feels a bit bad about it."

"Wes, if we didn't kill them they were gonna kill us. Do you get that?"

"It's so fucked up."

"There was one I didn't kill," I said. "Because he was actually, well, nice to me."

There was a pause of silence, and even David looked at me with a frown.

"His name was Alex. When I... when I first got the gun out and shot Driscoll, he just stared at me, I guess in a kinda shock. But when the others went for me, he didn't move. And then when I pointed the gun at him, he just kinda held his hands up," I demonstrated, "and shook his head. So I didn't shoot him. And when I turned my back on him he didn't go for me."

"Well that's something," Wesley said.

"The police got him anyways, so I'm sure his life's not great right now, but at least he's alive, right?"

"So you're not a completely cold-blooded killer. Always good to know."

I had no idea why David suddenly got emotional. His eyes watered and he tried to wipe it away without much success. "God," he muttered. "I hate this too, Wes. I wish it'd never happened. I hate that I was right there through everything."

"Hey, mate..."

"I'm fine, it's just... When does Dad get home?"

"Well he said he was coming home early, so I guess that means three?"

*

Zack did get in around 3pm. David went downstairs to check up with him while I waited with Wes. Five minutes later he was back, and gestured for me to follow.

I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect. I entered the lounge with Zack casually sitting on the sofa in his suit, like he was some therapist and I was walking in to a session. I took an armchair, not sure I wanted to be within a certain distance of him. That hole in the plaster was still there.

David left after I'd sat down. I didn't know how I felt about it, but didn't have much time to think because I looked around to Zack leaning on his knees, staring right into my eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"... What?"

He gave me a look - 'don't waste my time'. "What do you want?"

"I... I don't know."

"That's not going to get you far." He sat back on the sofa, but didn't take his eyes off me.

"I, err..."


"Does it take you long to think about, or you just don't want to say?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Bullshit, you're not taking the question simply enough. Do you want to go running to the drug gang?"

"No-"

"Do you want to spend your life doing their jobs?"

"No-"

"Do you want to finish university?"

"Yes-"

"Do you want to marry David?"

"I don't know-"

"Do you want kids?"

"I've never thought about it." I frowned at him, finally given a breather. "I want to make things right, that's what I want."

"And how do you think you'll do that?"

"I don't know."

"You want to make me like you?"

"I guess, yeah."

"I do like you, because you're loyal. You think on your feet. I don't like you, because you're a threat to my family."

"Well, how do I prove I'm not?"

"You can't, because you are. This is not up for debate."

Jesus. What was talking with him supposed to achieve again?

"Come here," he said. I frowned at him until he repeated himself. "Come here."

I moved across the room and sat at the far end of the sofa.

"You need to leave it behind, and start a new life."

"I'm trying."

"And it's not easy, is it?" His eyes finally softened. I only saw with a brief glance before I was staring back at the floor. "Your phone." I pulled it out, and he leant forward to take it from my hand, giving it a wave at my nose. "This is the first thing that has to go. Every name, every number, you have to cut contact. Get a new number, throw this one. You have to disappear, and you have to keep avoiding them every time they try to track you down. You don't answer, you don't talk, you never confront. You avoid." He tossed it back onto my lap. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"You know people in your university's town."

"Yes."

"And are they going to make life difficult?"

"I dunno... The main one, Romain. He's in, but he never does the heavy stuff. He just sells."

"Will he leave you alone?"

"Probably?"

"The objective is to make them waste enough time and resources trying to track you down that they decide it's not worth it. You don't make enemies, you don't piss anyone off. You fade out of their immediate thoughts."

"They've known me since I was a kid."

"They knew me since I was a boy."

I gave him another glance. He'd already achieved what I wanted to. I needed to listen to him, it was just hard, and infuriating, to have something that should have provided such common ground, such a connection, and have a wedge firmly stuck into it.

"How many know what university you're at?"

"Not many. My parents, Romain, Harold..."

"And what's Harold?"

"Lieutenant."

"Right. And how big of a threat is he?"

"Big. He's not gonna leave me alone until the mess with my parents is sorted out in some way."

There was a pause. Zack inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose. "Do you think it might be best, if they're locked up?"

My gaze snapped to him in shock. "No... No."

"They're top of your priority list to break contact with."

"I will fucking do it. But they can't go to prison. Please."

He gave me a doubtful look.

"Zack, I can do it. I'll cut contact with them. They might even understand. But they can't go to prison, not like this. If they legitimately get caught one day, they're prepared for that themselves, but not like this."

"Well they were caught by Driscoll's guys, weren't they?"

"It's not the same. The cops didn't put in the effort of catching them. It's not fair." I felt childish, but it was how I saw it. My parents loved each other. They'd been through everything together. This would tear them apart, in every possible way. It was a fate worse than death for them. I couldn't easily explain it to Zack, I couldn't find the words for it. I didn't know if he understood. "Can't you do something?"

"Lawrence is ready to play as their solicitor on Darren's money. He doesn't think there's anything he can do, though."

"If they can get out, and get back to Harold, it will get him off my back and make my life a whole lot easier, too. God, isn't there something?"

There was another pause. "I can think of something," Zack finally said. "It depends on if your parents are up to it. It also guarantees that they'll be cutting contact with you from their end. Two birds, one stone."

*

Lawrence came around that evening. He arrived at the tail end of our dinner, so there was some awkward small talk while we finished up and he waited. Then he asked if I would like to go with him for a bit, to discuss certain matters.

David got all defensive, and had to be assured that it was okay. I wasn't in trouble.

"Where'd you get the bruise?" Lawrence asked me as I clambered into the passenger side of his car.

"David."

He scowled. "Good grief. Why?"

"We got into a fight."

"His lip, huh?"

"Yeah."

He shook his head and I stared out the window. I didn't know this man, and wasn't sure how to talk to him.

"Are we going somewhere specific, or are you just gonna drive in circles?" I asked.

"I was going to go to the pub. We can drive in circles if you really want."

"No."

"All right."

"Darren said you would keep me updated on what was happening with my parents. You haven't."

"It's been an absolute mess. I've been making sure your name stays out of it."


"What do you mean?"

"Police have a lot of loose ends they're trying to tie up, it's always very interesting when two criminal sides clash. They wanted to question you about it all. Anyways, Keane says he has a proposition."

"Yes."

"Shall we wait until we're at the pub?"

"Sure."

It wasn't a very long drive. Lawrence ordered himself some food and a drink, and me a glass of Coke. "So," he said once we were comfortably seated. "What've you got?"

"Zack's idea," I started, now wondering if we were in a good place to be discussing it, "is to pay their bail, and they go on the run, and never show up to court."

"... And that's it?"

"Yeah. Not like they've got a chance of winning in court or anything, is it?"

"Highly unlikely... Still, that's a hell of a life."

I dragged my finger through condensation on my glass. "Not exactly worse than what they've already been living."

"Sörensen can't have his name to their bail. He's involved in enough scandals as it is."

"No, Amelia's going to organise paying it."

"Right. Okay. So I guess I'll be speaking with her."

"I guess." I studied him across the table. "What are you anyways? Like some private detective?"

He looked back at me. "I'm a DI. I do some private work on the side." His gaze returned to his plate. "Private clients are always very specific."

"Involved with Driscolls?"

"Yes."

"That's how you met Darren?"

"Sort of. His family used to have a private investigator. He used to be in the force, but quit and went fully private. Apparently the Sörensen family case is what made him quit."

"Why?"

"Police let it go cold. There was just nothing to go on."

"What was the case?"

"Just finding out who the murderers were. Jackson was determined, though. Never gave up on it. He got pretty close, picked up a good lead and was piecing it all together, then kicked the hornet's nest and they lashed out and another Sörensen died. Then shortly after that was the crash with Brendan Driscoll's body. So suspicions did all get confirmed. That's when Jackson got in contact with me, to get me in contact with Darren."

"So that was it? He was done and you took his place?"

"Ah, he smoked himself to death."

I frowned and Lawrence gave me another glance across the table.

"Lung cancer, couple years after the Brendan incident. If he'd just got himself checked out sooner, could've prevented it. But he was one of those blokes."

"Is he that Ted guy I've heard Tyler talking about?"

Lawrence nearly spat out a mouthful of food, struggled to swallow, then coughed and chuckled with a hand covering his mouth. "Tyler used to wind him up so much."

"I think Tyler winds everybody up."

It was the first time I'd seen Lawrence smile, not that I'd seen a lot of him before then. "Jackson was a good man. We all used to tease him a bit. What was it, 'Jack-Of-All-Trades'. He never seemed to know what he wanted to do, so he did everything. One man army. Tough life, though, working for this family who seemed fairly good at all getting themselves killed."

"I guess."

"He took on the impossible and gave it everything he had. He lived through his work. Like I said, good man."

"And I guess it paid well, too."

He snorted, and studied me. "Why, you thinking of becoming a PI?"

I shrugged. "I've never even thought about it."

"Who knows, maybe you'd be good. Your whole takedown of Alan was quite impressive."

"It was all flukes and accidents."

"I don't know, you seemed to make some good decisions in there. Pretty hands-on, though. Might want to get some self-defence training in if that's your style."

He was half joking and half serious. I wondered whether or not to mention parkour. I went out with him expecting to talk about my parents, not about me.

---

David

It was going to be the first and last time I ever met Violet's parents.

Once decisions were made, the police just wanted to get on with it all. As soon as her parents were out from wherever they were being held, Lawrence directed them, and us, to where we could meet.

Dad was taking us. Relations were still shakey, but he was in the process of taking Vi under his wing. It was always in danger of being domineering if she didn't keep a backbone. He would oversee everything, and ensure she did nothing wrong. Likewise, he'd make sure her parents didn't get up to anything. And you know what? The part he'd never admit, but I was quite sure of - he was curious.

I was curious. I wondered if they'd live up to the haphazard expectations I'd undoubtedly formed in my mind. I hadn't heard a lot, but I'd heard enough.

Before we were in the car, I managed to ask Vi if she was nervous. Her response was an informative shrug.

There wasn't much talking the whole drive.

Dad quickly behaved like there was something to be suspicious of. When we pulled into the park's carpark he was already looking around, turning his head and leaning forward for a better view out of the windows.

"God," Vi remarked, noticing it as well.

"Will they have gotten in contact with Harold yet?" he asked her.

"No. They're doing nothing 'til they see me. You can trust them."

He tossed her a look, but stopped the engine and opened his door.

They were there somewhere, and now we had to find them. I didn't understand why the whole ordeal had to be so discreet, but Lawrence didn't want anybody knowing Dad had spoken with them in person. Something about pre-emptive measures to reduce impending hassle.

Violet's parents weren't in trouble yet. They'd be in trouble some weeks from now, when they never showed up.

Vi sped up, spotting a pair of figures on a bench ahead. They took more interest in us the closer we got. The woman got to her feet but stood where she was, as if fighting to contain herself and not erupt in any sort of noticeable manner.

Violet broke it, surging with a sprint. She flung herself at the woman and both staggered, but squeezed each other. Dad and I caught up at a more leisurely pace.

The man stayed on the bench. His expression briefly lit up at the embrace before him, but faded to something blank once we stopped a few feet away. Dad took one more subtle look around, like it was his last chance at spotting any unwanted company. The man either took offence to Dad's behaviour, or something about him put his back up - he sat forward, arms on his knees, and noticeably stared. Dad's gaze only slid over him before paying attention to Violet's mother.

It was safe to say that Ellie Lewis looked close enough to how I'd imagined her, if only because I'd pictured her looking so alike to her daughter. She wore a leather biker jacket, and stood with a sturdy stance. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had tattoos all up her arms. There weren't any obvious piercings, only a faint scar one side of her nose where it looked one may have been ripped out. She and Vi had similar face shapes, but their eyes and hair were completely different.

Vi didn't get those features from her dad, either. It was almost peculiar. Genetics must have carried down from a grandparent somewhere. Either that, or the man sitting on the bench wasn't actually her father.

He was pale, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes that could've been black. Half his face was hidden behind a beard that didn't look to have been trimmed in weeks. He studied me, briefly, before his eyes darted to Vi, then back to Dad. He had to be her father, the way he sat there silently watching everything.

"Keane?" Ellie asked, holding a hand out to Dad. He shook it and affirmed with a nod.

John finally rose from the bench to physically greet Vi. After the brief hug he was back to watching. He wasn't particularly tall, either. Maybe he just found Dad and I unsettling. A stark contrast to Ellie, who seemed to find us fascinating.

"David?" she said, but it wasn't much of a question. She knew exactly who I was. "Let me get a look at ya, finally in the flesh." She grabbed my chin in her fingers and I wanted to pull away, but didn't. "Why do the pair of you's look like you've been in a fight?"

"My fault," Vi quickly said, and Ellie gave her a mockingly motherly scowl. "I was trying to leave, to sign up to the service."




Hornet's Nest Ch. 10



The way Ellie's mouth dropped open was genuine. "Why?"

"Because... stuff." There was a look between them that said many silent words. "David found me and I tried to run, and he caught me, and I got mad and punched him in the mouth."

"And he smacked you back a good one?"

"Yeah."

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose, evidently ashamed of me. Ellie chuckled at it.

"Mister Keane, I wouldn't worry. You've got a name, haven't you? All this formality seems silly."

"Zack," Vi said, without waiting for my dad's consent. He didn't react, so I guessed it was okay.

"Zack," Ellie repeated, taking a step back for a slightly better view. "You're a fuckin' big one. Is your wife short? Seem to have robbed your son some inches." She grinned at me. "You're not growing any more, are you?"

"Mum," Vi started.

"I'm the short guy in the family," I replied. Comparing me to my dad was perhaps one of the most average things she could've done.

"That's a tall family, then." She looked back to Dad. "So, I hear you've paid our bail?"

"My wife has, officially," he replied.

"It's such a basic idea it's crazy, I admit. But we're game for it. I just don't understand why you'd let all that money go t' waste. Then again, I guess it's barely a dent in your savings, isn't it?"

There wasn't any spite in her voice. Her words were what they were, with nothing beneath.

"If we couldn't manage the costs we wouldn't be paying it," he said.

"What's the catch?" she asked.

"You give Violet all the space she needs to start a new life."

Her eyes shifted to her daughter, then back to Dad. "And you're going to provide that new life, are you?" Again, there was no spite. I kept expecting it to seep into her tone.

"Violet has to build it herself."

"Right."

"You accept that?"

Ellie contorted her lips in a twisted sort of pout, nodding and looking over her shoulder at her husb- well, no. They weren't actually married. At John. "We like t' think of ourselves as pragmatic."

"That's why you're trafficking?"

Ouch, Dad. Ellie just grinned, tilted her head slightly in a very similar fashion to Violet, and slipped her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "The trafficking jobs are the easy ones."

"Holy shit," a male voice cut in. John was finally speaking. Vi and Ellie's heads turned to him in a mild surprise.

"What?" Ellie asked, but he kept staring at Dad like he'd had an epiphany.

"Amir."

Dad's posture tensed.

"What?" Ellie repeated.

"Fuckin' Amir."

"Excuse me?" Dad said.

"Och," John scoffed. "It is you. Fuckin' is."

Violet's gaze snapped to me with wide eyes. My heartrate had already picked up the moment Dad reacted. I didn't need her making it worse.

They stared at each other, but Dad didn't seem to be recognising John in return. He just looked irritated. "As I said."

"Fuck sake." John looked at Violet and gestured at Dad. "This guy gave me one o' the worst cleanup jobs I ever 'ad."

Violet swallowed, looking between Dad, then Ellie, then me.

"So you're 'that' John," Dad finally said.

"Aye, I'm 'that' John. Och. Not surprised. Ones like you wasn't supposed to know me anyways. You made the bodies, I cleaned up, ain't that right?"

Dad gave John another appraising look, head to toe.

John looked at Violet again, like he had to explain himself to her. "He made a fuckin' pig's ear of a run, then pretty much disappeared." Or wanted her to explain herself to him. "How th'fuck you go finding someone like this? Of all the people in the world?" His gaze snapped to me. "No wonder your picture gave me the creeps. Spittin' fuckin' image."

"Now, now," Ellie started, but John's outburst wasn't done yet.

"I can't believe this. Did you name change and everythin'?"

Dad shook his head again, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "My name was never Amir."

"Well, shit. You're doin' well for y'self these days, aren't ya? Didn't you always have that guy with you? The skinny one? He doin' as good?"

"Yeah, he goes by Sörensen these days."

Ellie let out a short burst of laughter, at John's face. He was scowling and confused, like he really needed a moment to think about that. Then he looked at Violet. "Vi. How th'fuck?"

"I just went for the hot guy in my physics class," she replied through a smirk. "I didn't know who he was."

I felt as though I'd been holding in a breath for at least a minute. I finally let it out with a light chuckle.

"Can we meet this Darren Sörensen we apparently have connections with?" John asked Dad. "Police been askin' so much shit."

"No. I'm all you're meeting."

"Fuckin' hell, this is so much bullshit."

"John," Ellie said. "Are you done?"

"Fuck me."

"Dad," Vi ventured. "You can take this a bit like an apology. He's spending two grand so you don't go behind bars."

"Och." He gave Dad another look. "Is that right? I guess me cleanin' up that body might've kept you outta prison too, eh?"

Dad just gave him a look back.

Violet gave one more helpless glance around our parents. "Zack, is it okay, if like..." She made a vague parting gesture.

Tension drained from Dad with a deep sigh. "Go ahead. We'll be at the car."

She gave me a quick and distracted kiss, then grabbed Ellie's arm to pull her down the path. John followed. I wanted to go, too, if only to listen, but she needed that time alone. Ellie tossed one more smirk over her shoulder, getting a last look at me.

Dad headed for the carpark and I lagged behind, raking fingers through my hair. "Erm," I started.

"No, I wasn't expecting that," Dad gruffly replied.

"Well, neither was I."

"Small world."

"Are you okay?"

He paused for a moment, letting me catch up. "I'm fine."

"Seriously?"

"I came prepared for more hostility than that."

"You thought they were gonna be kicking up a fuss?"

"I had no idea what they'd be like or how they'd react."

We both fell silent as we approached, then passed, two teenage girls on the path, who likewise went silent from whatever conversation they were having.

"Can you please tell me everything?" I asked a few feet later.

"About what?"

"That night that holds so many bad memories?"

He smirked. "Vi's dad will be telling her how dangerous I am and how she should run a mile."

"Fuck sake, is that what you want?"

"She can either go off with them now, or come back to us. It's her choice."

He wasn't helping me feel any better. He unlocked the car and we covered the distance, but I hesitated by the passenger door while he got behind the wheel. "Dad, please."

"What?"

"Can we talk?"

"I'm not driving off without her yet."

"No. About the fact that you fucking shot someone."

He gestured for me to get in, so I did. There was a thoughtful silence, where I think he was trying to figure out what he had and hadn't told me already.

"Tyler told you about the runs?"

"He vaguely mentioned something."

"He accompanied me when we were in uni. Drug runs. Go there, pick up that, take it to here. Cash in hand."

"Okay."

"I was already trying to distance myself from it all by then, but I kept taking the jobs."

"Why?"

"Because I needed money."

"That badly?"

"David, I needed to eat." He gave me an earnest look. "I had nothing. I was living off a student loan. Sometimes a run was barely worth the cost in petrol, but I took it. I accepted too much charity from Tyler's family over the years, too many free dinners, and they weren't even that well off."

I'm ashamed at how hard it was for me to truly grasp it. My stupid fucking cushy life. "Why didn't you just get a proper job?"

"I had a record."

"A police record."

"Yeah."

"So what happened that night?"

"We were being tracked."

"By police?"

"No, a rival gang. The time of night we were driving, someone just doesn't follow you for that many miles and take every same turn. They kept their distance, but didn't even try to make it subtle. I barely tried to shake them off, I just got angry instead. The fucking prick never turned down the headlights, you know. Blinding me in the rearview mirror. It really pissed me off. So I pulled over."

"And they did too?"

"Yup."

"What, and you went over to them?"

"Yeah. Me and Ty got out and headed over to deal with it."

"So you just fucking walked over with a gun?"

"No, I never had a gun on me. They did. They waited 'til we got close, then the pair of them got out and the driver instantly shot at Ty. He missed, God knows why. Bad aim, maybe Tyler moved. He's always had stupid fucking reflexes."

"And you lost your shit."

"Yeah. I got the gun off him and shot him four times in the face." He stared out the windscreen with his arms crossed as he talked.

"And then what?"

"The other guy shat himself, Tyler and I ran back to the car. He drove while I made a call about the whole situation."

"And got the body cleaned up."

"Yeah. We never finished that run, I dumped the package off on someone else later that night. I was done with it all. I was at university, I was trying to make a life for myself, I couldn't be fucking up like that. I didn't want to be in those situations any more. Tyler nearly died, and that was too much for me."

I sighed. "Wow. So was that the only time?"

"What?"

"That you killed someone."

"As far as I'm aware. I beat someone up pretty bad a few years before that, heard down the grapevine that his injuries killed him. Never found out if it was true or not. It was a good story, though. The branch of the gang I was in, they were quite happy if I was a known killer. More than half of that world works through reputation."

I digested the new information while I stared across the carpark at the path, hoping Violet would come back down it.

"David," he started. "Everything I have ever fucked up has been because I got angry."

"Yeah, I know."

"You never hit her again."

"What?"

"Violet. Never hit her again."

"Dad, it-"

"I don't care what you have to say. I don't care if she hits you, I don't care how many fucking times she might punch you in the mouth. You never hit her. You control it. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You never hit anyone in this family. Not even Tyler."

"You know I'm sorry about that."

He smirked. "You learnt your lesson."

There was an awkward pause. I still felt bad about the 'kitchen incident'. I felt terrible about every time I'd shoved Wesley around. The short spat with Dad that ended with me thudding down the stairs still bothered me, and I'd never feel okay about the burst of anger I'd had towards my own girlfriend.

"Dad, I know you don't think that highly of her, but I really love Violet."

"I know you do. And she loves you, too." He nodded towards the path, where she was already walking down.

"I... I thought she'd take longer."

He grunted. "She has a few weeks for phonecalls before they go to ground."

She was hurrying towards the car, posture small and face troubled. I instinctively reached for the door and got out. She looked close to tears, rushing to cover the gap.

I gripped her shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, it's just... it's hard. They get it, they understand. It's just... I don't... can we just go?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just want to go." Her eyes watered. "Please, it's just, it's so fucking hard."

I held her for a few seconds in an attempt to calm her down. She buried her face into my chest, sniffed a few times, then pulled back and clambered through the car door for the backseat. I got in after her. Dad leant around, but took one look at her teary face and decided to leave it. So perhaps he was surprised when she spoke to him first.

"Zack, my dad wanted me to tell you that he's sorry for acting like that. He really is grateful, and stuff." She sniffed again and pulled her hoodie's sleeve over her hand, dabbing at her eyes.

"It's okay."

"And my mum hopes me and David will be happy."

He looked around again. "Slow down. It doesn't all happen at once."

"I'm fine."

"You're overloading yourself."

"No, I can't stay and talk to them, or it makes me doubt myself. I just need to go. Can we go?"

"Violet."

"Dad," I said. He could overload her, too. He started the car, reversed out, and turned onto the road. There was another long silence of everyone staring out their respective windows. Violet waited until her eyes were dry, her breathing was steady, and her voice was normal, before speaking again.

"You know, I get it," she said.

"Get what," Dad said from the front before I could.

"It's their fault. It's their fault all this shit happened, because they exist and live their lives, and I'll forever be getting caught up in it, unless I distance myself. I just hate it. Because, you know, I've realised I can't help them."

Listening to her ramble and rant had become a strangely comforting thing. If she was talking out loud, she was letting everyone else in on her thoughts.

"They've made their choice," Dad said.

"I know. And I'm making mine. They're holding me back, they always will. It just sucks. I wish things could be different."

She kept going for a bit longer until I touched her head and stroked her hair. "Brain's working hard, huh?"

She gave me a little smile. "This thinking stuff is new for me."

*

We got everybody together the day after that. Minus Hanna. Her two weeks of a holiday from hell weren't over yet. Mum wouldn't have her home until she was certain she wouldn't be 'traumatized'.

Getting everyone together simply meant making everyone talk.

If it started slow, the lounge gradually filled with voices trying to cut over each other. Mostly Tyler, who Mum scolded into silence. He sat looking like a dejected little child, and she couldn't keep a straight face. As soon as she cracked a smile, mirth picked up all over the place. Even Violet smiled.

For perhaps the first time, Wesley and I were being spoken to like fully-fledged adults, not 'the kids'. With things out in the open about Dad, Tyler was unleashed, like he'd had tape ripped off his mouth. In less than five minutes he and Dad were bantering away over their university life, this time with new stories we hadn't heard before.

"I fucking told him not to pull over," Tyler said. "For fuck sake."

"You were just as pissy as I was," Dad replied.

"Yeah, but I still told you not to pull over. And why did he shoot at me, anyways? I've never got that. You were the scary one, why go for me?"

"'Cause you looked like a little prick, Ty. You always have."

"Fuck you. Always the same shit. I mean this," he got up from his seat and gestured at the hole in the wall, "what the fuck happened here?"

"An accident moving furniture."

Tyler's expression flickered, holding in a laugh he couldn't let out yet. "Looks a lot like the shape of your fist, Zack."

"Yeah, well."

"You got mad. You always get mad."

"Fuck off."

He yelped. "Who were you swinging at? Violet? Did you miss, or was this aimed?"

"He missed," Wes declared. "He's getting old."

Dad shot him a glare and I chuckled over Tyler. Violet sheepishly grinned at the floor, then briefly made eye contact with me. She was worried it would all end up about her. Hardly.

When we were done talking about Dad and Tyler's criminal past, we talked about Mum and Darren. The conversation mostly focused on Darren's father and what he did or didn't do, but gradually moved on to his deceased cousins and uncle. Then we started getting into the whole Driscoll ordeal in haphazard chunks.

Tyler was all over that, too. "Welcome to the club," he said to Darren.

"I was already in it," he flatly replied. "I killed Jamie."

Tyler paused, then his eyebrows rose. "You know what, that is very true. But that was an accident."

"Driscoll was an accident?" Darren offered.

"You're full of shit. Shot him in the fucking face, just like Zack."

Mum spluttered and clasped a hand over her mouth, like she was shocked at herself for laughing at such a thing.

"Lia," Tyler said. "When's your turn?"

"Goodness me." She looked at Dad. "You've lost your gun now."

"Yeah," he replied, and looked at Violet. "You lost my gun."

"Sorry," she said.

Dad shrugged. "I think I'm glad to be rid of it."

"You say that," Wes started, "but you'll be sorry when a zombie apocalypse happens. You'll wish you had it back."

"Kid," Tyler sighed. "You and your fucking apocalypses."

"A gun is shit for zombies," Dad said. "Nah, you need an axe."

Wesley grinned. "Like the one in the shed?"

"Yeah," Tyler said, before Dad could. "And an oversized fucking four-by-four."

Mum buried her face into her hands as chuckles erupted. Some jokes just never got old.

"Nobody gives a shit about parking in the apocalypse," Dad retorted.

"Fucking hell," Darren groaned.

So much for serious conversation. Things were almost back to normal.

We had to talk about Hanna at some point, though. Mum had only given her basic details over time - something happened where Tyler and I were in trouble, then we were okay but in hospital, then we were out, but there was stuff with the police. She wasn't old enough for anyone to feel comfortable about giving proper details.

"You have to tell her," Wesley said. I think he surprised everyone with his adamant stance on the matter. "She already knows some crazy shit's been up. It's not fair on her."

"She's so young," Mum said. "It's going to change things for her forever."

"Well, they've already changed. She's nearly twelve. I knew things, and had to deal with things when I was younger than that. Mum, it's so important. You've got to talk with her about this."

Mum steepled her hands over her nose and mouth, staring at the floor.

"Maybe we can talk to her," I said, gesturing between myself and Wesley. "She might take it better that way."

Mum still didn't look convinced.

"What exactly are you thinking of telling?" Darren asked her. "She only needs to know about my family. She doesn't need to know about... well, this."

"Have a second conversation with her when she's eighteen," Tyler said.

I scoffed. "Yeah, because I really got told when I was eighteen, didn't I?"

"Kid, stop being a bitch. We had to wait until you were old enough, maybe you still fucking aren't. How do you think you would've taken this if you found out back when you were sixteen? Absolute shitstorm."

I had an impulse to reply that maybe, knowing when I was younger might've led to me being more careful about who I got involved with in the future. But I looked at Violet, and the words never came out. I wasn't sorry for how things happened. She needed this. It was probably good for me, too. In a weird way, I think it was good for everyone.

*

It was hard to know if Hanna took it well. She was upset when she first got home, but that was for a mixture of things. The questions quickly started and wouldn't stop. She needed to know if I was okay, if Tyler was okay. She needed to know why Dad and Violet had shouted at each other.

We told her, slowly but surely. Me, Wesley, Mum, and Dad. She got her explanation, even if certain details were strategically left out.

She had to learn about Darren's family for everything else to make sense. They'd been murdered, by bad people, because Darren's father did something bad. Violet's parents got in trouble with those bad people, too, then Tyler and I got caught up in it because we were trying to help her, then Dad and Darren, and... yeah. Then the police got involved and everything ended up okay. Because, you know, police.

She was surprisingly calm about Darren's family. I suppose she'd never formed any attachments or known them for it to have an impact. But it wasn't really that. It was how she simply accepted that bad people had attacked Darren. Like that was normal.

"Like the protesters?" was all she asked.




Hornet's Nest Ch. 10



"Very different," Mum replied. "But similar in a way, I guess."

Then she frowned, and asked a harrowing little question. "Mum, why do so many people hate Darren?"

Mum couldn't really come up with an answer for that, and looked to Dad for input.

"Many people are idiots," he said.

Hanna giggled. "Well, I knew that." Then her face fell. "Is it all over? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes," Mum said.

"Everything's okay?"

"Everything's fine."

"Is Violet okay?"

"Shall I go get her?" I asked.

Hanna gave a shy little nod, so I went upstairs to retrieve my girlfriend and bring her in on the discussion, though there wasn't much more to say. I knew Hanna would be asking questions once it all sunk in and she had time to think, but I'd handle those questions when they happened.

*

There was one more thing. Some sort of physical closure, I guess. Darren took the whole family to the graveyard.

It was a strange thing, like I was going to pay respects to people I'd hardly known, one I hadn't even known was dead. But it needed to be done. And most importantly, it'd help Hanna grasp it.

It was a day where it was warm in the sun, but the breeze was cold. September was approaching. Leaving the house that day in a jacket had a dampening effect on me. Summer ending meant university was coming.

Was I ready to face the world yet? I had to be.

The cemetery was nice, and very well-kept. Multiple doors slammed shut from the three cars as we all got out. We walked in pairs down gravel paths, with Hanna hitching a ride on Wesley's shoulders. There was some chatter from my parents and uncles ahead, but Violet and I walked in a comfortable silence, fingers locked together.

Darren led us to the graves, pointing them out with what was almost a nonchalant gesture and sigh. Then he stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing across the row of granite headstones.

The first two were ever so slightly weather-worn. Arthur and Andrew Sörensen. Died in 2000 and 2001. Next along, Jeremy. Died in 2007. The last two headstones were visibly newer. Marcus and Vincent. Both died in 2018.

Darren stepped up to the middle headstone with an expression of regret, twenty years and still going strong. "This one was all me."

Wesley let Hanna down from his shoulders, and she went over to Darren, tugging at his sleeve since she didn't have access to his hand. "It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"I crashed the car."

"It was an accident." She stared up at him with an earnest determination. His eyes creased with an affectionate smile in return. He removed his hand from the pocket and it was grasped in hers in an instant. She might lose her blunt innocence as she aged, but in that moment, it was fully intact. Her eyes moved across the headstones, silently mouthing each name as she went.

It wasn't just Hanna taking it in. Violet's fingers slipped from mine as she stepped forward, pacing down the row, needing a closer look. Stopping at Vincent's headstone, she looked around to Darren like a weight had hit her. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "It's all long done."

She looked back at the graves, crunched a few more steps on the gravel, looked at Darren, looked at me, then back at him. Her expression kept shifting, unsure of what to say or do. She just wasn't happy with what she saw. "Life's been pretty hard on you, huh."

"In some ways. I mean, I've never had money troubles. Lots of inheritance."

Mum snorted behind me.

"And money means nothing," Violet said, searching for eye contact from Darren, which he wasn't giving. Her head turned back to the stones. "Everyone's dead." It was pretty striking to see all the graves in a row like that.

"I have one cousin still living," Darren said. "She moved to Canada after my uncle's death. Haven't heard from her in years."

"She ran away?"

"One way of looking at it."

Violet struggled with it all, like she was expecting more emotion from Darren, and he was being pretty cold. Maybe jaded was a more appropriate word.

His family was dead, yeah. But he still had us. She'd nearly destroyed that, too, and I think that was what hit her. When she apologised again, it wasn't about the fact that two generations of men were in a row six feet under, it was about what she'd done.

Hanna was unsettled by Violet's growing distress, releasing Darren's hand in an attempt to comfort her instead. "It's not your fault."

Violet stared at her. She couldn't know, not yet. Her eyes watered with pain and she looked at me, like I needed to do something about my little sister and save her from this situation. I didn't react fast enough, and when Hanna reached for Violet's hand she pulled away, turned, and walked off.

I followed a few steps after her, but she stopped of her own accord. She gathered her composure, wiped her eyes, and came back over to my family. Facing instead of running. I was proud of her.

If the visit was intended to have some kind of impact, it achieved that.

---

Violet

The second year of university was... hard.

Our first day back in physics labs was interesting. David and I sat together near the rear of the room. The professor came over, as jovial as ever, to start up some friendly chatter, opening with calling us 'lover birds' and commenting about how we were still together, and how it was nice to see, and all that shit.

"How was summer?" he asked.

David leant back in his seat and pulled an expression that said he didn't want to know.

"That bad, huh?" the professor continued. "Did you take her home to meet the parents?"

"Yeah."

He chuckled. "And it was interesting, was it?"

"I'll say."

I was used to having experiences I couldn't talk about, but it was new for David. It's not like anyone would believe you if you did talk about it, anyways.

For weeks I simply felt... weird. I was in a detached, limbo state. The fog of it only really wore off around the start of November, but then the reality was bitter and difficult to handle.

The last text my mum sent me, before her and Dad officially disappeared, had me crying like a baby. Staring at those words on my phone's screen was the final blow in accepting it. And then I threw out that phone, and everything on it from the past four years of my life. And I threw out some clothes that had particular memories attached to them, too.

A fresh start. Sort of.

It was impossible to be fresh because being back at university was being back in an old environment. An environment that had started when I was a different person.

Many things were the same. Social science classes were still fun, physics were still horrible. I still spent far too much time around David and Wesley's flat. A couple of flatmates were different, as Adrian and another girl found somewhere cheaper to stay for their second year, but the rest were the same. Myles and Claire got into a massive argument within a week of being in proximity to each other, just like old times.

Darren's name ended up on TV again, something to do with America. There wasn't the slightest trace, anywhere, about the trouble he'd been in. It'd all been covered up very well. I wasn't sure how I'd feel if something like that had been plastered across media, what with it being so much my doing.

David and I mostly kept our heads down and did our work. We went running and climbing up buildings some nights. Other nights we stayed in bed, and got hot and sweaty in a different way. I tried looking for a job, and couldn't get one. They were some of the quietest months of my life, eventful only through routine.

Zack and Amelia called a few times, and whenever they were done talking to David, the phone was passed to me. They could be an amusing pair, a bit like good cop, bad cop. Amelia cared about my emotional state, Zack cared about the cold practicalities of what I was doing and whether I was slipping up.

I wasn't. Campus acquaintances had to accept that my connections all just disappeared. I didn't talk to Romain, and he never sought me out. My parents promised that they'd keep him, and Harold, and whoever else, off my back.

Zack and Amelia did get some phonecalls about the whole bail situation. Apparently Zack dealt with it - "Oh, that's unfortunate." And hung up.

Everything was mostly smooth sailing, so why did I feel so wrong, right at my very core?

It took me a while to figure out what it was. Analysing everything, trying to see it from a different angle.

We went home for Halloween. We went home for Christmas. I didn't feel out of place around the family. It was more that I felt like I didn't have a... purpose.

It took until spring term until anything started to make any sense.

David was going through something similar to me. It wasn't us. It was... everything else.

I didn't have doubts about him. He was completely devoted to me. We could lay together on his bed, limbs tangled and breathing in sync, perfectly content in one another's company, but so unhappy about what we were doing with our lives.

David got to the root of it faster than me. He came into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist after a long shower. He must have done a marathon of thinking.

"What do you want?" he asked. I looked up from my laptop, momentarily stunned. I didn't know if he had any idea how identical he was to his dad in that moment.

"... Do you mean like, literally?" I replied.

"Yeah, like, what comes to your head?" He sat beside me on the bed and pushed the laptop screen down, just so I understood he really did want to talk and it was important.

"What do I want?" I paused for a moment, looking at the water droplets on his shoulder. "Well... I want some money in my bank account that isn't just from a loan that's gonna completely fuck up my future."

He smirked.

"And I want a motorbike."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, seriously. I got this jacket and it's good for nothing because I never ride one anymore."

"Get some money and you can get a motorbike."

I chuckled. "I need a license."

"Get that first."

"Okay, sure."

"And what else?"

I paused again, trying to think. Things weren't immediately popping to mind. "I dunno. But I can tell you what I don't want. I don't want to do fucking physics."

He grinned. "Neither do I."

"I hate it."

"So do I. And chemistry. And biology, to be honest."

"I don't... I don't want to be here. This university, this town. But we don't have any choice."

"We do. We just have to plan well so we're never pushing that six months."

I studied his face. "What do you mean?"

He fidgeted to sit a bit closer to me. "I, well... It's like, erm."

"Spit it out."

"I just... I've figured out what I want to do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want to join the police."

I stared for a second until something Darren said came to mind. "Monkey see, monkey do."

He chuckled and shrugged, with a huge grin on his face.

"You want to be in full body armour, kicking doors in, and shooting the bad guys? That's what you want?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

I chuckled as well. It was surprising, and yet not. "Where do you even start?"

"That's what I have to figure out." His smiled faded. "What about you, though? What do you want to do?"

"I... Well, now you've gone and said that, maybe I can say something and it won't sound so stupid any more."

"What?"

"You remember Lawrence? You remember when I went to talk with him about my parents? Well, we kinda talked about him a bit. About what he does. And the way the conversation went, he basically said I had all the qualities to make a good Detective Inspector."

David grinned again. "Seriously? And you'd want that?"

"I guess. I'm not like, opposed to it..."

"That could be awesome."

"The thing is, I don't really know how serious he was being. He said I should get in contact with him if I ever thought about it. Like he could help me, or something."

"Then maybe he can help me too. It's all about who you know."

There was a pause of silence, then we grinned at each other, like giddy little kids coming up with new life dreams. When I leant over to kiss his handsome face I wasn't intending for it to escalate, but apparently that rush of happiness and excitement needed an outlet.

He was freshly showered. Better get him all sweaty again.

*

We figured out as much as we could, before we announced our plans to his parents. We wanted something tangible and achievable, not something we'd drop out of university for and fail. That spring became very busy.

Our efforts were worth it. When the news came out, Amelia and Zack were skeptical, but grew more supportive when it actually sounded like we knew what we were doing.

Wesley laughed his arse off, but thought it was awesome.

A cheerful Darren put us in contact with Lawrence, who answered all sorts of questions and gave plenty of advice. We were looking at different branches, but were prepared for whatever years of training, exams, and study it might take. It was a real career, for both of us. David's just had a slightly higher chance of getting him killed.

I would study criminal law. David would go through intensive training, so long as he passed the initial exams. I had exams to pass, too. There were applications to make. Plenty of things to sort. It didn't daunt us. We were doing this.

Everything was so exciting, and university suddenly didn't matter any more. We put in just enough effort to get decent grades, before quitting at the end of our second year. Everyone who knew us was sort of surprised, yet not, about our choices. I guess as I was 'the dealer' and David was 'the thug', most hadn't expected us to go down the route of law. Yet it also made sense, in a weirdly logical way.

We were set up for our future. Facing the same direction together.

There was a short period of rest when we went home that summer, before launching ourselves into our new lives.

I played games with Hanna and did my best to take on a big sister role. I talked a lot with Amelia and Zack. I bantered with Wesley and Tyler. And for Darren, I still felt like I owed him so many things. Lawrence was hunting down one last Driscoll - Alan's cousin. If I could qualify to get in on the case, I hoped I could personally contribute to the full closure of a chapter of Darren's life. One I'd stirred up and re-opened. It only seemed right.

I'd have to see how the future went.

There was one of those celebratory dinners where Darren and Tyler came over. With the weather being so nice, we all ended up in the garden after eating. Poking around in the shed produced a football with a decent amount of air in it. A mock football match followed. David and Wesley, versus Tyler and Zack.

It was mostly a chaotic mess of clowning around, but the former team seemed to be winning, if only because David was actually good at football. Nobody could get the ball off him. When Zack had enough of it, he decided they were now playing rugby, and violently tackled his son to the ground.

Tyler shrieked with laughter. Wesley clasped at his head and cried out to Darren on the bench - "Referee!"

He bounced with a chuckle and didn't even attempt to intervene.

A growling wrestle ensued, where perhaps David was most surprised of all when he successfully pinned his dad on the grass with an arm bar. Tyler's laughter got even squeakier when Zack tapped out. The moment David released him, stood up, and turned his back, he swung his leg out and knocked his feet from beneath him.

Zack didn't get to pin David for long. Such dishonourable fighting required Wesley and Tyler to join in. He lost a second time, going limp with a strained guffaw at the bottom of the pile. Amelia cackled in glee and wiped her eyes.

"Oh, goodness, the grass stains."

It was hard to think that it'd been a year already, since everything had happened.

Hanna ventured over once it was safe and they'd stopped giving each other bruises, and I stole her spot on the bench between Amelia and Darren. Life was pretty good. Maybe it'd get better. Hopefully it'd never get worse.

David headed over to me with a beaming smile. I knew not to trust it. He had a stalking posture, and lunged before I could escape. I was thrown over his shoulder, almost kicking Amelia in the face while squawking and swearing. It was my turn to join in.

I was one of them now.

---

David

I knew my dad was concerned about my choices, but it was something I wanted to do.

He'd had that side of him 'harnessed' before, by the wrong people, in the wrong situations. He had plenty of bad experiences. Of course it concerned him.

I didn't want to live a life where I was constantly suppressing and crushing it. It'd wear me down, and I'd screw up somewhere along the line. Maybe Dad had all the discipline and control in the world, and only had a couple of slip-ups once he'd decided enough was enough. But I wasn't him.

It was an unexplored part of me. I guess I wanted to try 'harness' it in my own way. The idea that I could do something good with it.

Maybe it was a terrible idea. An absolute disaster waiting to happen. I wouldn't know until I tried.

Tyler called me a 'dirty little do-gooder with a hero complex'. That's exactly what I was, but I didn't see why that had to be a bad thing. I'd always been like it. I'd always wanted to help people, always had an urge to protect. Always had a gut reaction to witnessing 'injustice'. And then there was the reactive, aggressive streak that always caused problems. Giving it an outlet just seemed to make sense.

A controlled outlet.

I never would've thought of particular events happening, nor them steering me onto a particular path. I wasn't alone in that. I'm sure when Violet first met Lawrence, she had no clue he would become a big part of her life.

She had big ideas about what she was going to do. The Driscoll extinction. Helping to take down the drug gang that'd loomed over her life. There was one thing she didn't mention, but I knew it was there - she hoped to stick her nose into a possible case, about tracking down a certain Eleanor Lewis and John Lloyd.

If the gang was taken down, she'd have to find them at some point, right? I wondered how that would go. Would I be involved in such raids?

There'd been something about Violet that drew me to her in the first place. Maybe she just looked like she needed help. Maybe when you realise someone has a shell, you want to know why. But she'd been the one who initially approached me. I wouldn't be where I was without her, either.

When I'd first laid eyes on her, it'd been difficult to imagine getting close enough for any sort of intimacy. I had no idea what she'd become to me, what role she'd end up taking in the family, or what either of us would end up doing in the world.

She'd support me wherever I headed, and I'd support her. We burnt from the same fuel, and maybe that was the key element to our whole relationship.

Different backgrounds, same goal.

---