LENNIE

Hana pulls me straight up the stairs when we get to the guys' house. I haven't said a single word, quite frankly because I don't know what to say.

"Len, do you want to take a shower?" She asks softly, leading me into the same washroom I was at the weekend.

I can't lie, a shower sounds ideal. A way to wash off their grimy fingerprints. There's something I have to do before that, though.

I take some tissue and carefully wipe some blood from my face, turning to my best friend. "Do you know where they keep sandwich bags?"

She nods, looking in confusion at the tissue before dipping out of the room. She returns a few moments later with the bag, and I slide the tissue inside. I pluck a grey hair that was attached to my bra, and put that inside, too.

"Evidence, if it's needed." I sigh, hanging Caden's heavy jacket on the back of the washroom door.

"The blood isn't yours?" Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion, and I shake my head.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I say, meeting her warm gaze. "I may have bitten part of his ear off."

Her eyes widen, and she turns away to mask whatever shock she's experiencing. Of course, I'm shocked too. How couldn't I be?

I was violated tonight, almost raped. The awful reality of the fact makes me sick to my stomach, and I lunge for the toilet, flipping the lid and vomiting again.

"Sorry-" I cough, flushing the chain. Hana's hand meets my back.

"You've done absolutely nothing wrong. I'm so proud of you for putting up a fight, I wouldn't have expected anything less." She soothes.

I turn around to meet her thoughtful half-smile, and I can't help but return it. Her words make me feel better, because she's right. I'm proud of me for putting up a fight.

"I'll leave some clothes on the back of the door for you, I have some spare here from when I've stayed with Miles." She says softly, standing up and leaving the room without another word.

I pull myself up by the edge of the washbasin, catching my own gaze. I stick out my tongue, and it's completely red. Stained.

I grab the toothbrush holder, emptying the contents and filling it with water. Swilling my mouth, spitting it out. Again and again until it runs almost clear.

They're a group of guys. They must have mouthwash. I yank open the cupboards, blinking at the open forty-pack of condoms. I push them aside, pulling out the mint-flavoured liquid from behind.

I swill it again and again, until the only thing I can taste is burning spearmint. My tongue looks clear, at least.

I'm covered in shit, literally. Grime all over my face, as a result from lying under a pile of trash-bags. My hair is a ragged mess. A mane of tats.

I run the shower, waiting until it's steaming before stepping inside. I instantly feel better, and I try not to think about what Caden and the others are doing right now.

I find a bottle of lemon body-wash, which I'm guessing is Hana's, and drown a sponge in it. I scrub my legs, my arms, every single area I was touched until it's red raw.

I tilt my chin up to the water, feeling it roll down my face. This time, it's not tears. I rub my scalp with shampoo, rinsing it and drenching my hair in conditioner to get the knots out.

After lots of forking with my fingers, they break loose. I give myself a final rinse and step outside, taking a deep breath and letting the steam cleanse my lungs.

I wrap a towel around my body, opening the door an inch and collecting the clothes Hana left for me. A pair of sweats and to my thankful surprise, a spare pair of panties. Cosy socks, and a Sublime band-tee with 'Santeria' plastered across the front.

Well, hey. At least I like that song.

I dress in the fresh clothes before leaving the washroom, throwing my underwear from today into the trashcan. No idea where my other clothes are, probably still littered in that alley.

"How're you feeling now?" Hana asks as I trudge into the kitchen, where it looks like she's making some hot chocolate. She knows I fucking love hot chocolate. Hot chocolate makes everything better.

"Definitely improved since before the shower," I smile, and she squirts practically half a can of whipped-cream onto the drink before sliding it to me.

"I didn't know if you'd want one, but I made one just in case," she says. I ignore the hot chocolate for a moment and stride around to hug her. It probably looks funny, I've got a good few inches in height on her. Long distance best-friends.

"Thank you. You're the best. Literally," I mumble into her silky black hair. "Thanks for freaking out. If you hadn't, well, things probably would have ended a whole lot worse."

"Of course I freaked out, Jesus. As soon as your line went dead, I was terrified." She grimaces, and I can't imagine how she felt. If I was in her position and if she was the one in danger, I'd have freaked out too.

"That may have been my fault, considering I went out with practically no charge." I ease out my shoulders, sitting and cupping the warm mug with my hands. Letting the comforting smell of cocoa fill my nostrils.

I quickly remember the reason I was going out in the first place. To get my guitar fixed. My beloved, cerulean guitar from my aunt and uncle, which is now lying under a heap of trash-bags.

"Fuck," I groan, resting my head on the counter. "I left my fucking guitar. I took it out because I'm a fucking idiot and broke my tuners, and was on my way to Rockers to get it fixed." I blink, clenching my hair with my hands. "And my phone. Fuck!"

"It's okay! I'll call Miles. Ask them to bring them back. Do you remember where you left them?" She asks, already pulling out her cell.

"Guitar, under a heap of trash bags at the end of the alley. Phone, I've honestly got no damn idea. It must have fell out of my pocket when they—" I sigh. I don't need to finish that sentence.

She nods and presses the call button, disappearing out of the room and into the hall.

I pick up the mug and walk across the space, lying on the L-shaped sofa, where I threw my drink over Rowan, and curling up. There's a blanket hanging off one of the arms, I take it and wrap it around my shoulders.

I curse as I have to sit up and reach for the TV-remote, flicking on the power and settling back down. I might be making myself a little too 'at-home', but literally what else can I do? Wallow?

Wallowing unfortunately changes nothing, I've learnt it the hard way.

I flick through the channels, past all the depressing news stations, until eventually I find one where One Tree Hill is being streamed. I recognise that it's the episode with Hailey and Nathan's first kiss, one of my favourites.

Damn, I'd love a Nayley relationship.

I take a sip of my hot-chocolate and settle, and groggily wake up at the end of the episode to a door opening and footsteps on the hardwood floor. I didn't even realise Hana had curled up next to me.

"The guys are back," she whispers, standing up  and leaving the room. I hear some muffled voices in the hallway before they walk in.

Miles, Owen and Isaac enter the room, trudging over and sitting on the other side of the sofa. I blink a few times in an attempt to crawl out of my disorientation.

I remind myself that I don't know these guys well at all. And yet they defended me, and here I am, sprawled on their sofa like a renaissance painting. 

Hana picked her guy well.

"Hi, how are you feeling, Lennon?" Miles asks almost professionally, and I can't help but find it sweet that he feels the need to use my full name.

"Just Lennie is alright, Miles," I smile. "I'm okay, really. Thank you, all of you." I scan my eyes between them, waiting to land on Caden, but he isn't here.

"Whitlock will be back soon-ish," Isaac seems to read my confused expression.

"You didn't, uh," I cough. "Like, kill— them. Did you?" I whisper the last part. Not out of worry for the predators, but more so what it would mean for the guys.

"No, don't worry about that," Isaac half-grins. "They aren't dead. That's all you need to know."

Is it all I need to know, or is it all I want to know?  I nod, bringing my knees up to under my chin.

"Quinn has been calling me all night, so I had to tell her what happened. She wanted to come around right now, but I told her you'd probably be sleeping," Hana says with a hand on my arm, catching my wide-eyed expression. "Don't worry, she hasn't told anyone else."

"Thank you," I say gratefully. It'll most likely come out eventually, but I can't be bothered with Rowan hammering me with questions tonight.

"What time is it now?" I ask, glancing around the room for a clock.

"Almost ten," Miles replies, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it to me. My phone, thank Jesus.

"God, thank you so much for finding this," I groan. "Did you happen to see my guitar? Under the trash-bags?"

I don't want to make another trip down that alley for as long as I live.

"Yeah, Cade's got it. He's taking it to Rickies," Isaac replies.

"Rockers," I automatically correct with a small laugh, before I process what he just told me. "Wait— Caden's taking my guitar to Rockers?"

"Yeah, Hana said that's where you were apparently headed. He's just dropping it off, saves another trip there." Miles says, like it's no big deal.

"That's—" I hesitate on my words, "—lovely. Like, really, really lovely. I don't know how many times I've said it already, but thank you."

"Don't thank us, it was his idea." Owen shoots me a crooked grin, that is so obviously drunken, but it's there regardless.

Is this really the Caden Whitlock everyone's only ever had bad things to say about? 'Man-whore' or not, there's obviously a sweet side.

"Miles said we can take his room tonight, Len. He'll sleep downstairs like a gentleman," Hana shoots her boyfriend a wink. "Wanna head up?"

"Shouldn't I wait until Caden's back?" I say quietly, quirking my eyebrow.

"He could be a while, yet. And you've had a, well—traumatic night." She replies softly, taking my arm and pulling me to my feet.

Wouldn't be my first. Probably won't be my last, either.

"He won't mind?" I look to the guys, who all shake their heads 'no'. "Alright, well I'll see you guys in the morning. And for the eightieth time, thank you." I smile, following Hana out of the room.

— — —

I surprised myself by falling asleep the second my ass hit the mattress. Now I'm awake, staring at the ceiling of Miles Greene's bedroom, my best friend snoring beside me.

I click my phone, that I've had charging since I brought it up here. Hana's messages from before it died flood the lock-screen, and the time is now 3am.

And I need a glass of water.

I slide out of bed as softly as I can, walking the small distance to the door and closing it behind me.

I tread down the stairs, and it's eerie to see it so quiet after seeing the place rammed with people over the weekend. I walk past the old hockey sticks decorating the walls, rounding off at the end of the staircase and heading into the kitchen.

I cringe as a cupboard door creaks when I pull out a glass, trying my best to remain silent as I fill it up.

"St. James." Someone says quietly from behind me, and the suddenness almost sends the glass slipping from my hands.

I place it down and whirl to see Caden, leaning against and practically dominating the entire doorframe.

"Whitlock," I whisper back, stepping slightly closer so I can hear him. He's in an oversized black sweatshirt with the Harlequin logo on the front, sleep shorts. Black hair ruffled and messy.

He's fucking beautiful.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and my eyes trail down to his hands. Clenching and unclenching for a reason I can't place. Veins bulging up the back of them.

"Better," I nod. "Much better. Sorry for puking when I was wearing your jacket." I force a small laugh, he shakes his head.

"That was the fucking least of my concerns," he grits out, and I instantly feel less guilty about it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't mind. Do you want to know anything about it?" I reply, stepping back and jumping a little to sit on the counter. I really don't mind talking about it. Not when it's so freshly engrained in my head. Talking helps me process things.

"Only a few things," he says, leaning against the counter at my side. Damn, we're pretty much eye level now.

"Did you actually bite a chunk of a bastards ear off?" He raises his eyebrows, turning to look at me.

I take a deep breath and nod. "Yes, and I don't regret it. Not one bit." I say, gritting my teeth and thinking of the amount of other girls like me who've gone through the same thing. And much worse. One's who didn't get help.

"Good, you shouldn't. Should've bit the whole damn thing off." His mouth curves up slightly, and I can't help but laugh.

"Well, if there's a next time, which is hopefully fucking never, I'll take that on board." I nod, scooping up my cup and taking a sip of water.

"There's a special place in the pits of hell for people like them," he says, fingers scratching lightly against the wooden surface.

"Good. I hope they burn to crisps." I muffle against the rim of my glass with a shrug.

"They will," he nods, and we fall into a comforting silence. Just beside each other. In a day or two, we'll probably be back to that weird phase we were in, but for now. It's nice.

I decide to break it after a few minutes. "The guys said you took my guitar to Rockers. Why would you do that for me?" I ask, leaning forward in anticipation of his answer.

"You'd had a royally fucking shit night, and when Hana called Miles to say you'd left it behind, she explained you'd broken it and had wanted it repairing. Hence the whole reason you were out. Thought the least I could do was take it to the destination." He shrugs. "They said it'll take three days, should be done by Saturday."

"I literally can't thank you enough," I breathe. "That's really kind, Caden."

"Don't think I've ever heard that word and my name in the same sentence," he chuckles.

"First time for everything." I grin, taking another sip of water and looking at him. "What did you do to the pricks when I left? The guys wouldn't tell me."

"They're alive, that's all you need to know." He deadpans, and I frown. Whatever I'm being kept in the dark about is making me more curious tenfold.

I don't pry, because I don't have the energy. I'll find out eventually. I watch as he manoeuvres a little, pulling off his sweatshirt and leaving him in a black tee.

My eyes trail to the tattoo swirling along his bicep. It has the effect of incense smoke, wrapping from the back of his elbow and up to an area I can't see.

There's a name dancing in the spirals, I notice for the first time. I squint a little to make it out.
"Callie?" I murmur, and fight the urge to hit myself for saying it aloud.

"Younger sister," he replies immediately to my surprise, turning his arm to look at the tattoo. "She would've been eighteen, now. Died four years ago."

Fourteen. The fact she would've been eighteen, but didn't survive to reach the age, makes my heart ache on their behalf.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly, lowering my chin in respect. "I can't imagine how difficult that must have been, to lose her at such a young age."

He nods slightly, and I watch as his jaw ticks. Crap. I shouldn't have mentioned her, shouldn't have been nosy.

"It was," he replies bluntly, pushing off of the counter and stepping in front of me. "You should try and get back to sleep, St. James."

I nod in agreement, jumping off the counter and looking up at him. For a very drawn out moment, I hesitate on what to do.

Then I lean forward and wrap my arms around him briefly. "Thank you, again." I say, pulling away. He didn't return the hug, and instead he's just staring at me.

Definitely my cue to leave.

"Night, Caden," I throw over my shoulder before walking out of the room.