Golden Boy

T H I R T Y

The drive to Dayna's house on Long Island went by quicker than I expected. Almost immediately after being shoved into the back seat, I was out cold, exhausted from the physical and mental torture endured onto me because of a certain curly-haired boy. 

The quiet hum of the engine was comforting and felt like a safety blanket, making it easier to let my guard down and to try to forget the hell of a night I had just gone through. I should have listened to Maggie when she told me to go home. 

Bev hit a pothole, jolting me awake. I looked out the window to see the ocean hidden behind the forest of trees. Something heavy laid on my lap, making it impossible for me to move or shift in any which way. Someone had draped a thin blanket over my body as I slept, covering my bare legs, and adding an extra layer to keep me warm. Jace's thick head was slumped in my lap, blood staining the blanket, reminding me that he has had it just as rough as me, but probably worse. 

A part of me wanted to be desperately free, not liking the idea of being held down, especially not after the night I had tied to a chair. I poked his shoulder, trying my best to gently wake him up, but he was like dead weight. He didn't snore, didn't shift, and I could barely see his chest rising with each breath. I started to panic. What if he was dead...

"Are we almost there?" I asked, it barely sounding more than a whisper as I gained control of my vocal cords. 

Dayna turned around in her seat, instantly softening once she saw Jace curled up in my lap. I grimaced when we hit another pothole, anticipating the impact to wake Jace, but he never stirred. My worry grew as I imagined that he was dead and I had a corpse weighing me down. 

"We are a couple of minutes out. Don't worry we will get him off you if he doesn't wake up," she said, offering me one of her warm smiles. I nodded, turning back to the window. 

Long Island felt like a wasteland after being in the heart of Manhattan. The houses were nicely spread apart, the streets freshly paved with no sidewalks—you know because everyone has a car. The windows weren't down but I could imagine the light smell of the salty sea that always hung in the air mixed with the fresh air, polluted less from the reduction of people and traffic than in the City. 

I thought of my house then, my mom and dad pacing in the kitchen as they waited for the phone to ring with me on the other end to tell them that I was alright, that everything was going to be alright. I instinctively reached for my pockets for my phone but came back empty-handed. I felt bad for constantly causing them such turmoil, especially after respecting their rules and boundaries for the last four years. After last night, I would be surprised if they ever let me leave the house again. 

Bev pulled into Dayna's driveway, and I marveled at how spaciously different I remembered her home on the inside compared to the outside. The house stood awkwardly in the middle surrounded by grand houses, dwarfing it in comparison. 

I poked Jace's shoulder again to see if he would return back to life, but he stayed still. I half-thought about rolling his body off so that it landed on the car floor, but Bev opened my door and hauled Jace over his shoulder before I had the chance. 

Dayna led the way into her house, turning on lights as she moved into the living room. Bev gently placed Jace on the couch on his back. Now that he faced me, I could see the cuts surrounding his face, breaking the illusion of his perfect features. 

His skin was pale, almost a blue hue, a far fetch from his normal golden undertones. There were dark circles under his eyes, his lips crusted over with blood, and half of his left brow was singed off. He looked like he'd been through hell. 

I dropped in an armchair that faced the couch. Dayna and Bev moved about her house finding ingredients and preparing a concoction to speed up Jace's healing. Dayna quickly attended to my wounds, rubbing a thick clear salve around my wrists and binding them with white gauze. It smelled a lot like vaseline to me so I was comforted with the idea that we had similar ways of treating cuts.