C h a p t e r    F o u r :

                                                                                 E V O K E D

♀

Strobe lights, laughter, dancing, smoke....

The bottom of the bottle lifts high above my head as the liquor seeps its way down my throat, burning its way to my stomach. Eleven calculated pairs of eyes are watching my every move from the bob of my throat to the swing of my hips.

They're cheering me on, demanding I drink more.

With every sound of the bass, I happily oblige, swaying and laughing along with the rest of them.

"Might wanna slow it down there, Merce...." Jamie says, gently tugging the bottle from my hand. He doesn't take a sip, just hands it off to someone else desperate to make this their scene; not once have I ever seen Jamie drink.

He hasn't been out for months, not since Hailey....

I squeeze his arm and smile, grateful. At least, I'm 80% sure it's him.

He's sitting only a foot away but his face is blurred beyond recognition. If it wasn't for his long hair, I wouldn't have had the slightest clue who he was -- it'd been Dax's idea to leave my glasses at home.

As I lean closer, though, I can still see, still feel, the sadness surrounding him. It follows him like a fog. 

In his eyes.

In his smile.

Everything about him breaks my heart.

I try to ignore it, he wants me to ignore it, but I can't be around him without saying anything.

In an attempt to avoid talking to Jamie about his sad everything, I look at the people around me. One set of eyes are missing -- that, I'm sure of. I need to find those eyes.

"Point me in Dax's direction," I shout, over the music and into Jamie's ear.

He scans the room and sighs, "Down the hall, make a right; he just went outside. Even his shadow looks like a prick so you can't miss him."

"Ha-ha," I say, hitting him playfully in the chest. "Thank you."

My legs clumsily follow the path Jamie had just laid out, weaving through partygoers and scattered trash. Down the hall... make a right... my hands push open the side door. Fresh night air fills my lungs and smarts my eyes, a small catalyst to sober me up.

Dax's tall outline is visible only a couple of yards away as he casually leans against the balcony, too close to the outline of another girl.

As I stumble closer, I can see Dax's arms draped around her waist; her arms wrapped around his neck. She buries her head against his chest as they hold each other with purpose.

I stand there, stunned, curious. If they are about to do anything other than hug, I'm about to give the girl one good shove over the railing.

I pick out blonde highlights in her raven hair and my memory does the rest.

Scout Champney....

I turn to go back inside, deciding that I really don't want to see them do anything other than hug.

Scout Fucking Champney.

"Merci."

Dax's voice forces me back around.

Scout looks to me and then back at Dax, I can feel the accusations in her gaze. And then, without a word, she disappears down the balcony stairs.

The night air gets a whole lot chillier as I make my way towards Dax. "You left."

He doesn't respond.

"Why are you out here?" I ask him softly, worried.

He narrows his eyes, staring hard at the floor.

"Dax..." I try, louder, more assertive.

He looks at me but the expression on his face makes me wish he'd kept his attention on the floor. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend?" he finally responds.

No longer worried, no longer soft, I glare.

It's times like this that make me question why he stays with me, so sure I'm ready to leave him or cheat.

He laughs bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at everything but me. "You should hear what they're saying inside...."

My glare wavers as I look up at him, only then do I realize the red rims around his eyes. He's upset.

My heart recoils.

I sigh and recite the exact same thing I've been telling him for months, "Jamie and I are just friends... he's been my best friend since grade school, Dax."

The music thumps from inside.

His silence changes my script.

"You know that," I press, "and with everything that's happened with Hailey...."

Crickets chirp in the distance.

He finally nods, grabbing my hand as he leads me towards the stairs. "Forget it, let's get out of here."

The typical Dax Fisher evasive action, always ready to change the subject.

"I'll let Jamie know," I agree, choosing to ignore his evasiveness as I pull out my phone.

Dax takes it from my hand and stuffs it in his pocket, "Without Jamie."

What?

"But we drove him here...." I reason with his back.

He stops for half of a second and turns around, eyebrows raised. "And?"

"And, I'm the one who asked him to come...."

He ignores me and continues his trek across the porch, dragging me by the wrist behind him.

"Dax...." I try.

There's no way I'm leaving Jamie behind.

Dax keeps walking, keeps dragging.

"Dax, we can't just leave him here." I dig my heels into the concrete, pulling as hard as I can.

Someone switches the song in the house and the newfound bass pours out of the window and rattles my bones as it beats in time, with equal force, to the beat of my heart.

"Dax!" I insist, louder. 

He whips around to face me, his grip around my wrist tightening as he tugs me toward him. "Choose, Merci!"

I flinch.

"Either you leave with me, right now, or we're done."

▶

I hug my knees to my chest and stare into the dark, my back flush against the headboard. My pillows and blankets are sudden casualties of war as they surround me in tragic disarray, eviscerated.

The phone rings five times before going to voicemail.

I press it tightly against my ear and listen intently to the sound of his voice.

"Can't get to the phone right now, you know what to do."

I close my eyes, stitching each and every word to my heart in a last-ditch effort to hold it together. The thread is strained.

"I'm so sorry...." I choke, stifling a cry.

The phone crackles in response.

Having no more words to hold me together, the stitches gradually come undone and then burst, all at once, under the pressure. The sheer force of it all pulls me under, sending me into a sobbing heap of despondency.

My face is drenched before I realize just how long I've been holding this in.

I hug my knees tighter, cry harder.

"It's my fault...." I manage, gasping for air.

My confession echoes with each tear patting against the sheets and with every shaky intake of breath rattling its way through my chest.

The creak of the headboard, the whip of the ceiling fan blades....

Everything's screaming the same four words:

It's all your fault.