Three Strikes

It was the end of the world.

At least in my mentality it was. I don’t know how long I sat in that room, my head between my knees, my back strict and stiff against the wall. Tears pooled out of my eyes, splashing against my cold flesh. Bile rose in my throat. I rushed to the bathroom, emptying my uneasy stomach of its contents. I repeated this particular state of affairs three times until my stomach lay empty in my body, churning agitatedly. Joe remained asleep, covered only by the floral duvet and boxer shorts that sat awkwardly on his hips.

It was now half-past eight and I didn’t dare move. I thought back to last night yet my mind wouldn’t play out the memories. Thoughts flooded my mind - I couldn’t think straight. I became more and more frustrated with myself. Why couldn’t I remember?

Why did I let this happen?

Joe shifted in his sleep. I envied him in that moment. He’d thrown all of his inhibitions two months previous; he could do what he liked. I felt disgusted and sickened with myself. The tears fell faster now.

He mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, nestled with the many pillows I had placed on my four-poster. As the headache came I hurriedly raided my closet for some running shoes and Nike sweatpants. I snatched a jacket and left the apartment.

I wanted to pressure and incite myself until I could no longer think. Until everything became a blur.

XXX

Nick rolled out of bed, feet hitting the plush feel of his navy blue carpet. He yawned and stretched, wiggling his toes. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Nick stumbled from his room, hitting the hallway’s walls at least twice, before descending the stairs.

“Morning,” he murmured to his parents as he sleepily entered the kitchen. It was ten in the morning and the teenager could’ve sworn he needed another eight hours sleep before he could function. “What are we having?”

Paul Jonas looked over at his only teenage son. “Have you heard from Joe?”

“What? - No. I only just got up, Dad.” Nick answered groggily, seizing the orange juice carton and pouring himself a glass. “Ask Kev.”

“I did,” his father told him. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago. We’re leaving soon for the radio interview and I told him,” Paul Jonas said sternly. “I told him to be here. I know he went to see Rose last night - I said that was fine,” at this point Nick wasn’t sure if his father was speaking to him or an invisible audience. “But he needs to take responsibility. We’re working so hard now so that he has time for the wedding.”

Nick tuned his father’s ranting from his mind. His ‘selected hearing’ always came in handy when he needed it to. Grabbing some cereal, Nick frowned at his Dad’s voice as certain words seeped through into his mind: Rose, Joe, Wedding.

Nick hadn’t mentioned the phone call he’d had with Rose to his older brother. He didn’t want to make too many false accusations - not now at least. As he gulped on his juice, Nick’s thoughts deviated to the blonde girl: Amanda. Who was she? An old girlfriend? No, Nick thought, he would’ve known. A fling? A friend? He racked his brain and concentrated - no, he’d never even heard of her before. And, before those strange messages, Rose had never mentioned her either.

XXX

Joe Jonas paced the apartment of his ‘fiancé’. It was nine-fifty and he’d woken up to an empty bed and then, to his utmost surprise, an empty apartment. He’d showered and changed - pulling on a pair of torn jeans and an old sweatshirt. It was a Saturday and his day off - he wasn’t bothered or fazed by what he was wearing. He’d shoved on his shoes and lounged on the sofa, counting the minutes. He was worried.

He knew he shouldn’t have moved so quickly. Rose’s heart was still being sewn together since her recent break-up. He shouldn’t have led her on. He groaned as he rested his head in his hands. He remember parts of last night; the kissing, the touching, the loving.

Hell, he hadn’t been even been drinking. Joe Jonas stormed out of Rose Fletcher’s apartment minutes later, angry at his actions. He punched the wall and ran to his car, intent on finding his wife-to-be before either of them did something stupid.

XXX

“Nick are you even listening?” came Paul Jonas’ irritated voice.

“Yeah. Find Joe. Practise. Shower. Get ready.” Nick mumbled, pushing himself from the breakfast bar. His father shot him a look that Nick couldn’t truly decipher. He knew he’d become a little more withdrawn than usual - but he had bigger things on his mind than an interview.

He felt like he was discovering this year’s most best kept secret.

And it frightened him.