MyChocolateNotUrs 😘😘

Hair in a black disaster, dress shirt unbuttoned and the front hanging out of his pants, the right strap of his suspenders hanging off his shoulder, a stain on the leg of his pants, an ashtray sat with half-smoked cigarettes—a habit strongly being broken and an assortment of shot glasses surrounding his unconscious frame on the table.

Heels clicked against the wooden surface and then stopped by the bar. "Gerald?" a soft feminine voice asked.

"Table 8, he's done for."

A somber sigh left her lips. "Thank you."

She made her way over to the table that she remembered from the many years of being a waitress at this bar. Table 8 was her father's table, no one could ever use it whenever he was around because of respect but respect mostly from fear. She saw it as clear as day, the night when a man sat at his table and refused to move. It was one of the times she's seen her father for the wicked man he was known as.

He'd taken the man by his head and slammed him forwards into the pillar that stood next to the table. It was a gory sight, the blood, the yelling, the fear etched into every face that stood in that bar, and the tears that sprung from her eyes. She couldn't unsee it. She couldn't have been lucky to have been off that night either. The man lost five teeth and left with a crack in his skull. She wasn't there to see the ambulance carry him away, or clean up after the fact, instead, her father grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away with him. The blood on his hand staining the white sleeve of her blouse.

She burnt that blouse afterward. The car ride back home had been silent. They didn't live in the town, not at that point, they had hidden in the cabin that her father bought some nice people out of. You'd think a man who was hiding would do his best to not be seen, but with her father's temper, that was impossible.

She stood before that same table today, with her eyes set on a different man, a young man, her brother. His case has been building for some time. The evidence was still being found, the murder site still being scouted and the prosecutor was still trying to nail her brother for a crime he said he hadn't committed.

Word of mouth didn't convince them, so they did all they could. They've threatened him with a long jail sentence, even threatened to ship him to a maximum lock-up facility... That was too extreme for a singular murder that he hadn't even been convicted for yet, but regardless, she had to keep him safe. After her parents disappeared, she just knew she had to give him a future where he didn't stray from the good path that he was walking. She got him the best lawyer in town and swore to herself to get him out of this town once his name was cleared.

"Cillian?" not a budge, not a sound, nothing. She sighed and bent to shake his shoulder, he shrugged her off in a lazy manner and she huffed. "Cillian Anthony get your ass up now or I'll drag you out of here by force. I still have my firearm young man."

A groan, then a bitter chuckle. "I thought they took away your toys when they suspended you?" his voice was groggy and his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, Cillian looked up at her. His thick black hair falling over his forehead and eyes. "Why're you here?" he slurred, running a weak hand into his disheveled mane.

"Gerald called me. You've had," she glanced at the gathering of shot glasses and sighed, "more than enough, so let's go." she reached out a hand and waited for him to take him. He watched her in thought, then gave in and took it. He stumbled off the stool but she caught him and swung his left arm over her neck. She held him around his waist and proceeded to slowly walk his way out with her. The bar hadn't been full, so thankfully no one really took them on. To them, he was just another drunkard and for that she was thankful.

The midday sun hung low with an orange glow that painted the skies in a hazy burning flame, which went perfectly with Cillian's rage and anger at the allegations against him. The siblings were almost to Cassandra's car when heels rushed after them and a recorder was shoved infront of Cillian and Cassandra.

"Officer Anthony! How do you feel about the judge's ruling when Cillian's alibi fell through?"

"Ignore her Cillian."

The pull of his arm away from her shoulder stopped his sister from moving. He looked down at the blonde woman who everyone knew as the most vindictive reporter around town and snared. Kerry Anders smiled. "Why don't you stop lying to yourself and tell your daughter and so-called niece that they aren't really cousins because you got pregnant young?" she gasped, taken aback and clicked off the recorder.

"My business isn't what this is about!"

"Neither is mine. Get away."

"Cillian shut up." Casandra yanked opened the door and grabbed her brother and pushed him into the car.

"Aren't you on suspension for mob relations?"

A stern finger pointed towards the shorter woman and Cassandra's brilliant blue eyes glared her down. "Keep away from my brother or I will sue you for harassment." she marched over to the driver's side, got in, then slammed the door and began the car. Kerry jumped away when the engine roared to life and watched as they sped off down the road.

"I'll get you confession soon enough Cillian." She muttered to herself.

~ ~ ~

Cillian had been helped to his bedroom where his sister stripped him of his dress shirt, and shoes and suspenders all the way down to his boxers and tank. "Go take a shower and get yourself cleaned up. I'll go make you something to eat." She sighed and bent to slip off her heels, and picked them up then walked out of his room, leaving him alone again.

His eyes hurt, and his head was pounding. He didn't go to the bathroom as she said instead he flopped onto his bed and searched for his phone underneath all his clothing. When his fingers touched the cool surface of the phone he sighed and bit his lip as he picked it up and punched in his passcode. He checked his contact and found Arlo's name, tempted to call her, to hear her voice, to just have her be here for one second. Tears burnt and blocked his vision. He dropped his phone to the bed and stood, his legs still felt heavy and his body felt like it weighed ten ton. He rid himself of his underwear and tank and got into the shower. He turned on the hot water and stood under the spray as it dampened his hair and ran down his back, turning his pale skin pink. He rolled his head, running a hand down his right arm as he watched the white tile walls of his shower.

He grabbed the shampoo and began to wash his hair, he smelt of cigarettes and alcohol, and he hated how he had caved and went back to old habits.

Life was much simpler when Owen was alive, he'd know how to handle something as huge as this case. He missed him more than he had ever missed anyone ever. Owen was his rock and he was the reason he was even alive still.

His remembered when Owen found him at a time when he didn't want to live anymore. It was after his parents had left in the dead of night. After writing a note that Cassandra had found. They were apologizing for any sorrow and pain that they caused them and said that they couldn't stay in contact, they said they didn't want them involved in their criminal lifestyle, so they left.

Cassandra had only just begun training for the police academy and after their sudden disappearance, she had to become his guardian at seventeen. Life afterward had gotten worse, Cassandra had worked hard to become a good cop, but no one trusted her and Cillian himself had distanced himself from society's judgmental finger pointing and thought life was pointless. He tried to jump off the Bickerson Wells Bridge that led out of town, a place where freedom was so close to him, but true freedom had refused to see him through. He had shut his eyes and said a prayer for God to forgive him. He was about to step over towards his final place of rest when strong arms pulled him back causing him to collapse in a pile of worry, anger, shock, and awe. "What the fuck are you thinking Lian?"

Owen's voice rang loud in his ears and tears began to flow down his cheeks as the water washed it away. How had he known where he was? "Are you insane? I need you alive Lee! You're so damn stupid you know, why would you ever think that your life was unimportant!? Huh! Answer me! You're important to me you idiot! You're my best friend. Why would you jump? Why?" he sat there on the gravel road watching in awe at Owen, who's eyes ran with tears and whose cheeks were red from yelling and he couldn't find his words. Owen shoved him away and panted heavily. "Never..." he stated, "Promise me you'll never try to take your life again. I tracked your phone when you didn't answer me. If you were wondering..." he flopped back down to his knees and gathered his legs to his chest. "Is it because of what people say about you?"

Crystal blue eyes ran over with sorrow. "They... they don't know me, yet they paint such an ugly image of me. The sins of my parents aren't mine. They're not! I didn't think Owen, I just wanted silence. I just wanted to be at peace." his voice cracked and he began to sob into his hands. Owen knelt up and moved to hug him, wrapping his arms around his neck as his tears dampened his shirt. "I know. Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I'll always be here. We'll be together forever." He pulled back, then cupped Cillian's face in his hands. "I promise that one day, we'll leave this God forsaken town and go wherever we want. Just you and I. Two best friends. Us against the world, where no one will hurt you ever again."

Cillian hadn't realized that he had been crying until he felt the tears running down from his eyes and noticed that his vision was cloudy. He sniffled and slapped water in his face before he turned off the shower and slicked his hands back through his hair. "Fuck..."

He stepped out of the bathroom after he had dried off his hair and body and walked out to see his phone vibrating. He picked it up and saw a private number. He answered, pressed record then his entire body went cold. "Lee! Lian! Please help me! I... I don't know where I am—oh fück, he's coming. Phillip Riley, look up that name. I can't—." the dial tone rang in a deafening sound in his ear as the phone dropped to the bed. His body convulsed and bent over in shock. What? How? His insides twisted like a pretzel and his body felt heavier than normal. He crumbled to the floor, his eyes wild as he played back the voice that he knew—that he just knew was Owen's... No one called him Lian but his best friend. No one else could have known that nickname!

~ ~ ~

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Arlo groaned, what possible force of life would be tapping away at her window? She blinked away the sleep in her eyes and gasped out loud and with a sudden thump, she fell off the edge of her bed nearest the door. She had found a black figure at her window and it made her heart constrict and her lungs rush their work process. Her heart was slamming against her rib cage as she hesitated to get up. Slowly, she gripped the edge of her bed then heard a sound that froze her stature. The window slides up and a pair of feet stepping into her room made the young girl come near tears. "Arlo?" the voice, she recognized it and shot up to her feet.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" the tears rolled down her cheeks and Cillian heard her sniffling then silently rushed over and pulled her into his arms. She tried to struggle her way out of his grasp by pushing him back, but he was stronger and shushed her gently. He rubbed her back and pressed his lips to her forehead. He pulled away and she looked up to see his eyes red, the room was lit by the television screen that was still on but on mute and she lifted her hand to touch her thumb under his puffy eyes. "What happened?"

"The case is on hold, and I need to tell you something. Please, don't tell me to leave."

"I won't," She took his right hand and guided him to the side of the bed she fell over from. "What is it Cillian?"

His eyes were distant as he bent forward on his knees. "I... I got a call." she waited, "from Owen." Her jaw dropped and her body stiffened. She didn't know what to look at, her hands or Cillian's perplexed face, as if he had seen a ghost. "He called me by a nickname only he ever called me. He told me to look for a name, Phillip Riley... Then he cut off. It was the first time I heard his voice since the night that I was supposed to pick him up." Arlo felt the hot tears cascading down her cheeks, but she did not move to wipe them away. She instead stood and listened to him speak.