Darien Grace

Jesus, antiseptic. I despised that smell; it drove me into immediate nausea. I knew exactly what that scent meant—I was in a hospital. I'd spent more than my fair share of time in varying hospitals over the years. Whether it was with my mother during her last few weeks, the emergency room the McKenneys had rushed me to following their discovery of my eating disorder, or the mental health facility I'd been forced into immediately after my release from the previous.

The entire concept of a hospital sickened me and I wanted nothing more than to get out. They smelled like death and despair. I'd promised Caleb and John that I wouldn't end up in one again. I'd promised them that they wouldn't have to worry about me anymore, that I had learned how to manage the devilish voice in my head... And, to an extent I had. I'd managed the old voice. I'd finally learned how to turn down the volume and ignore it, but I'd never once anticipated the surfacing of a new devil whispering in my ear. How could I have ever prepared for this. I hadn't ever imagined the possibility of "Otherwise" or anything of that nature even being in the cards for me... clearly that expectation was rightly conceived.

I hadn't been lying to Harry when I'd told him that our entire "relationship" had been a game, because it had been. We might not have been the orchestrators of it, but we were the main players. The Universe was in charge and we were the pawns. I hadn't entered into it with the intention of hurting him—h.ell, I'd never even planned to be a part of the game in general. It had snuck up on me and I was too far invested in the outcome to bow out before it all played through. We'd been chosen and I'd lost. But losing hadn't been enough for the Universe, now it had to torment me—reminding me daily of everything I'd been robbed of. The hospital was just the icing on top of the cake; it was the latest in a long line of tortures planned out for me from now on into infinity.

Closing my eyes, I did whatever I could to block it all out, to pretend that I was anywhere but here. That only made it worse, though. Without my sight, everything else was amplified. The sickening stench of excess bleach, the invasive pressure of the IV in my right hand, the growing ache in my left arm stabilized beyond movement, wrapped in its new plaster cast. There was no escape; the only other option being that d.amnable eternal twilight. I couldn't go back there. Instead, I was forced to decide which was the lesser of the two evils. Unlike the nightmares lurking in the shadows, I knew how to deal with hospitals. There was comfort in familiarity, no matter how unwanted it was. I'd made it through the worst a hospital had to offer before, and I could do it again. I had to.

"Hello, Darien." I jumped at the sudden voice, my eyes flying open, searching for the source. The warmth encasing my right hand flared, acting as a beacon, leading me to my ultimate destination. One strong hand was wrapped securely around a smaller one with bones clearly showing through a thin layer of skin. It was weak and depraved and with a stomach churning sickness, I realized that it was my own.

Reeling, I forced myself to look away from the evidence of my abandon. Slowly, I let my eyes follow the hand holding mine. It wasn't much larger than my own, but the past few weeks had worn on my body. Pale skin was stretched taught across slender bones, the flesh full with youth and good health. a strange familiarity settling through me from the sheer sensation of skin on skin. Whoever this was, I knew them. I knew them in my soul.

There was something else, though. A dread that I couldn't quite place. Maybe the speaker's voice had clued my mind in or maybe it was simply a remnant of my nightmares. I couldn't tell.

Countless rings wound around slender fingers and thick beaded bracelets encased the stranger's wrist, stacking halfway up their forearm. Lace draped the flesh beyond the bracelets, an off-white shawl that seemed almost tan against the stranger's pale skin.

What the h.ell?

I wanted nothing more than to just skip to the good part and see the stranger's face, to find out who the h.ell was holding my hand, but my mind was working in slow motion. It could only process one tiny bit of information at a time and it was driving me insane.

Frowning, I forced myself to speed up the process, following the line of the stranger's shoulder up across their clavicle and to the bared expanse of their chest beneath the shawl. There was a natural valley running down the stranger's chest, a small gold locket hung there. My heart leapt in my chest. I knew that necklace. H.ell, I'd bought that necklace.

"Jas?" I said, my eyes still working to make their way up to her face. My voice was broken, ragged with disuse. My heart fell at the sight of wild, unkempt curls, the blond locks streaked with various colors throughout. Leala Kaine stared back at me, her pale eyes sparking with amusement and something else. Something I didn't recognize.

"Nope," she said, a nervous edge cutting the sadness her voice. "Blondie's still en route."

Why the h.ell was she sad?

I swallowed hard before I could speak again. "Why are you here, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Good to see you too, Barney. It just so happens that I was in the area when they found out where you were. The cast of Modern Family wanted to jump on the first flight out, but that doesn't leave for another—" She checked the display on her phone. "—three hours. Look's like you'll have to settle for me for the time being."

"How did you find me?" I asked, closing my eyes. My mind was still foggy from the pain medication the hospital had been pumping into my bloodstream.

"Well since we couldn't use the GPS on the phone you so handily tossed into the Thames to track your happy ass, and the local Gestapo were no help at all, the McKenneys settled for putting an alert on your account. You charged your card, and bingo, bango, bongo, here I am."

My stomach rolled at her casual reference to the German Secret Police, but I chose not to comment on Leala Kaine's constant need to inspire outrage among the masses. I had other things to worry about—like why the h.ell she was keeping a bedside vigil on someone she openly despised. "What did Caleb have to promise you to get you to come find me?"

"Your daddies dearest had nothing to do with my little road trip. That blonde tease you call a sister is to thank for my presence," Leala said. her tone had darkened, the bitter edge cutting her words was softened, though, by something else—something I couldn't identify.

"You did Jas a favor?"

"What can I say? The idea of having her in my debt was temptation enough."

I snorted, and the act sent a stabbing pain through the left side of my chest. I gasped and I swore to f.uck I heard her try and stifle a laugh.

"That will be the ribs, then," she said. I opened my eyes to glare at her. She examined her nails.

"Ribs?"

"You really went for the gold this time—three different fractures in your arm and wrist, bruised ribs, and one of the most severe cases of malnourishment I've seen and that's coming from someone who has spent the better part of the past four years in New York. Eating disorders are to that city what incest is to the South. The cast of America's Next Top Model used to by my type," she said, shrugging slightly. "Now, basic logic tells me what happened to you medically, but what the f.uck did you do to your hair?"

Leala reached out and lifted one matted lock between her thumb and index finger, a grimace carving her face. I attempted to batt her hand away, but my own refused to move from it's spot on the bed.

"You make a ridiculous redhead, Aubergine," she said, dropping my hair, her frown deepening. I'd almost completely forgotten about my hair. I'd suffered a severe panic attack almost immediately after I'd left the McKenneys. I couldn't take it anymore. Somehow my mind made the connection that my hair was the last thing linking me to Ren and it was just too much for me to handle. I'd immediately gone out and bought the first box of color my fingers touched. I didn't care what color it turned as long as I didn't have to be her anymore. The deep burgundy did the trick—it was just average enough to blend in. I was just one in a sea of faces and the anonymity hid me from the Angel's watchful eye.

"The purple was ridiculous, but at least it suited your skin tone."

For some reason her judgement sparked something inside of me, returning my voice, "It's not my job to get you wet, Lea," I mumbled. My voice was hardly more than a whisper, rasping and broken from lack of use. I wasn't even sure she'd heard me until I saw the ghost of a grin pulling at the edges of her lips.

"Well, at least your s.hit attitude is still the same," she laughed. Her hand found mine again, gripping it just slightly. I couldn't be sure, it had been too long and I was still too drugged up, but I swore I felt a slight heat rise inside of me. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like—the cold was all consuming. With her other hand, she fingered the locket hanging around her neck.

"Why do you have that?" I asked, my eyes flicking insistently toward the small golden heart twirling between her fingers.

"She's hopeful, you know. She found out I was coming home for winter break right after they came back without you. She gave it to me in case I saw you. She said you'd take it as a sign of good faith," Leala said. "So, I guess the question is, do you still have faith? Do you even care that they're on their way? That they're out of their godd.amn minds?"

Instead of answering her, I huffed out a labored breath. I let out a groan; the movement sent a dull ache throughout the entire left side of my abdomen.

"And the ribs, yet again. You really should be more careful."

"I don't need your diagnosis Dr. Oz," I grumbled, closing my eyes in pain as I shifted my weight yet again.

"Once again. I'm not looking for a diagnosis, I can figure that s.hit out for myself; I'm here for an explanation." There was a strange edge to her voice. It chilled me and I had the overwhelming sense that she wasn't going to let the matter go any time soon.

"Well, tough s.hit. I'm still searching for mine as well."

"He's just as f.ucked up about all of this s.hit as you are, you know?" she said. My heart left at the mention of Harry, but anxiety churned my stomach. I was ready to vomit.

"Don't. You don't know what the f.uck you're talking about," I said weakly. It was suddenly taking everything in me to keep from heaving up whatever the f.uck was actually in my stomach.

"Actually, I think I do. I've seen both of you now post... whatever the f.uck you two called this s.hit, and neither of you are doing well. In fact, you both look like s.hit."

"Gee, thanks. Remind me again why I should be glad you're here?" I said.

"Because right now, I'm your best option," she said. There was something else behind her voice and I swore that her eyes flicked to the door before focusing back on mine, but the movement was too quick for my drugged mind to track. I couldn't be sure that it had even happened.

"How the h.ell did you even get back here?" I knew hospital visitation rules, I'd been in enough of them. She wasn't family; only next of kin should have been allowed to see me. So why the f.uck was Leala Kaine here?

"I told them you were my fiancé," she said, a wicked grin carved her face.

"You did what?" I yelled, bolting upright in bed only to fall back down against the pillows a fraction of a second later, pain rocketing through my body. I had no idea if I was mad at her for the lie itself or at myself for the infinitesimal part of me that actually comforted by the fact that it had worked and she was here.

"I had to tell them something to get them to let me back here. Honestly," she laughed, "you should have seen their faces. Oh no, there's a lesbian in the hospital!" she crowed, putting on a ridiculous French accent. I rolled my eyes. They were probably the only part of my body that didn't hurt.

"But why? You can't honestly expect me to believe that you're doing all of this s.hit for my best friend out of the goodness of your heart," I said. Her expression shifted at my words and it sent my mind reeling.

What the f.uck was actually going on?

"Maybe not the goodness of my heart, but it was in my best interest," she said.

"How? You can't stand me. You should be over-joyed that I almost killed myself. This is what you always wanted."

"No. No it's not," she said, shaking her head. "I never wanted this. I only wanted what was best for him...and f.uck—f.uck if you're not what's best for him then I don't know what is."

"Stop. Please," I said, tears threatened to flood my eyes.

"No. I don't think you get it. Do you have any idea how close you were, Darien?"

"Do you get that I don't care?"

"What would have happened to everyone who cares about you? Don't you understand that this isn't just your choice?" Now it was her turn to be angry. She was livid; outrage shining bright within the depths of her eyes. Why did she seem to care so profoundly if I lived or if I died? Why did it matter so much to her?

"Yes, it is!" Tears stung my eyes and I was rapidly losing control. Weeks of suppressed emotion surged forth, forcefully flooding my system.

"No, it isn't up to you. It may be your life, but suicide doesn't only effect you—"

"You don't understand!" I sobbed, my throat constricting, choking out each and every heart-wrenching word, "No one cares about me. That's just some godd.amn myth the bitch of a Universe decided to create. It's all some sick f.ucking joke." She didn't respond and I couldn't bear to look at her. I knew what expression I would find; it was the same with everyone else.

Poor Darien Grace. She's so godd.amn f.ucked up. What on earth could have happened to her?

I'd heard the whispered questions all of my life; even Caleb and John had fallen prey to the Universe's cruel design. I'd stumbled down the stairs late one night just after finding them. I couldn't sleep; I'd left the h.ell I'd been living in, but the nightmares still remained. I'd just wanted a glass of water, but instead I'd gotten so much more...

* * *

"How did you know her mother?" John's voice carried toward me from the den and I followed it, hiding in the shadows of the darkened hallway. He and Caleb were seated next to each other on the sofa, soft light filling the room from a dying fire in the hearth.

"We grew up together. Amelie left when she was fourteen. She said that she couldn't live there anymore and that she'd convinced her parents to let her move in with her Aunt and Uncle in the United States," he paused. The sound of ice clattering against the side of a glass filled the silent space as John and I both waited for him to continue. My mother had never liked to talk about her life before Louisiana. The only information I ever retrieved was in the form of stories about the mythical man in the room before me. He was the only connection I had left.

"She never told me where exactly and after she left, I lost track. I didn't hear from her until a letter came in the mail telling me that she was pregnant. She was overjoyed. She didn't leave a return address for me so I could never respond. The last time I heard from her was just over a year ago. She asked me if, when the time came, that I'd take care of Darien. She was so insistent and I never understood why..." His voice broke toward the end and I felt my body sliding to the ground, tears flowing steadily down my cheeks. She'd known what would happen and she didn't do anything to stop it. What good would a coded letter do? How the h.ell could it have warned someone- anyone- about what was happening to me... what I'd been forced to suffer through?

"And now that poor girl... I could have stopped that, John. I could have saved her."

"No, don't you dare do this. You couldn't have known-."

"She told me to look after her!"

"You had no idea where she even was. For all you knew she could have moved back to France."

"But I didn't even try. I was too godd.amn preoccupied with nonsense to care. Oh God, what the f.uck even happened to her?" Caleb choked out. I couldn't breathe. My chest was constricting beyond belief, forcing the air from my lungs as still unhealed scars reopened.

"Caleb, I need you to listen to me. You couldn't have predicted this. What she needs now, you can give to her. She needs you and you are here. There's a reason that you've only come into her life now."

"Did you even look at her? Jesus Christ... that sick bastard!"

I had to actually clasp my hand over my mouth to keep the sobs from breaking through. Even in the dark I could still see the dark marks around my wrists. I knew that they covered most of my body. It made my skin crawl and I hated it. My own godd.amn body didn't even feel like it belonged to me anymore. How could it when there were so many marks claiming otherwise. What did that make me? A slave? A ghost? If the fact that I knew wasn't enough, the Universe had made sure that the rest of the world could find out as well. I had barely been with the McKenneys a week. I hadn't told them anything outside of the fact that my mother was gone and they were already finding out the truth. They were so close to realizing my nightmares...

My control wavered for a split second and an audible sob slipped out. Rustling movement sounded out from the den and I fought to regain my composure, swallowing the sobs. By the time the light in the hallway flicked on I was silent and staring at the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched John grab on to Caleb's shoulder reassuringly, both of their expressions exactly what I'd been dreading—pity. Neither of them said a word. Instead, Caleb settled down on the ground beside me and pulled me close to his side. Instinct told me to run but a small part of me held out.

Just let it happen, she said and I listened. I sat there with him until the darkness pulled me under...

A/N: Hi. I love you all.

AND I have now decided to take a note from the famouxx handbook. The most active readers (commenting, voting, sharing, etc) will receive cameo roles in the story as Dari's narrative progresses. You have to comment, if you want me to write you in. I have to get to know at least a small bit of your personality if I hope to do any of you justice.