12 Days Till I Die But I'll Go Down Fighting

⎯ Day 4 ⎯

⎯[()]⎯[(Claire)]⎯[()]⎯

“Does Angel want to color again?” Mikey asked softly.

I smiled up at him, “If you want to. I just wish I had-”

I stopped short and Mikey frowned a little confused. He gathered me into his arms and I easily lay back onto his chest. I was quite use to this now. Mikey liked touching me, not sexually just having me in his arms.

“Angel sad?” Mikey asked as if he already knew the answer.

One of his hands rested on my thigh, I grabbed it and lifted it to my lips giving it a kiss on the knuckles. “No Mikey,” I answered. “Angel happy because Angel with Mikey. I just wish I could have a piano to play.”

“Angel play piano? Not harp?”

I giggled a little, “yes.”

Once again, it happened so fast. I was off the bed and his lap, in his arms bridal style. Despite his large form, Mikey could move as gracefully as his creepy brother if wanted or subconsciously. So I was in Mikey’s arms in his clothes as he easily carried my much smaller body to where ever.

He walked down two floors and past many doors before making it to one and opening it. He placed me down gently and turned on a light switch. My eyes instantly went to the baby grand piano. Beautiful. I walked over to it and ran my fingers along the top, the trail of them showing due to the dust.

“Brother got it for his pet many years ago,” Mikey said walking over to me with a grin. “But she turned evil.”

I wanted to ask so many questions from that one sentence but I didn’t want to hear the answers. So I took a seat on the bench and not caring about the dust, I played. I poured my heart into it. My sorrow, my confusion, my yearn for freedom, and the happiness in the friendship I found with Mikey.

When I finished I gave a large sigh with a smile on my face. My eyes were closed the entire time I played but I opened them when a large hand rested it’s self on my cheek. I turned my face to look at Mikey. For once… his face was emotionless.

“Mikey?” I asked concerned.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and leaned forward placing a kiss to my forehead.

I smiled up at him as he pulled back, “Thank you.”

“Angel play again,” he told me. I gave him a look. “Please,” he added with a smile.

“Ok,” I smiled.

We spent almost 2 hours in there, Mikey so in awe of the music. I was soon teaching him how to play a song: Chopsticks.

⎯[()]⎯[(With Family)]⎯[()]⎯

The young tattooed man ran his fingers over the keys. Very gently he took a seat. He pressed a few random keys of either high or low sound. He began the only song he knew. The song that Claire had taught him when she was 8-years-old. Her passion was her playing, just like his; they just had different instruments.

He suddenly stopped playing Chopsticks and slammed his hands down on the keys. They rang out in the room loudly before slowly dying off.

“Son?” he heard behind him.

Zack didn’t turn but his dad soon joined him on the bench.

“Zack,” his father started. “It’s not your fault. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that but it’s not. Claire wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over this.”

His son snorted and practically leaped from the bench. He turned and walked out of the room, making his father wonder. He wondered if he was going to lose two children and not just one.

‘Please God,’ he prayed for the hundredth time. ‘Bring my little girl back to me, to all of us.’

⎯[()]⎯[(Claire)]⎯[()]⎯

I watched as the young girl left the room. Another one that looked no older than me.

Who were they?

“Who are they?”

“Pets,” Mikey answered.

Oops, did I say that out loud?

“Pets?” I asked. “Your brothers.”

It wasn’t a question but he answered with a grin a nod.

“Am… I a pet?”

“No!” he yelled angrily making me jump. “You’re an angel. My angel.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly diverting my eyes away from his. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

I heard his chair scrape against the cement balcony floor as he stood. He pulled out the chair I as sitting in and easily picked me up. It didn’t even shock me at the suddenness of it. Mikey walked back inside the room and tossed me on the bed. Then something different happened, Mikey was on top of me. He was straddling me but kept practically all of his weight off of me but bracing himself with his arms.

“Mikey?” I asked unsure.

“My angel,” he repeated as he bent down.

At first I thought he was going for my forehead but I was quickly proved wrong as his lips met mine. But before I could pull away, he did. He looked at me confused, as if he didn’t know what he just did.

I swallowed before I softly whispered his name in question.

“Mikey’s Angel,” he said just as soft. “No pet. Never pet. Pets die, not angels. Not Mikey’s Angel.”

I was too in shock at his admission that the pets die to realize his lips were on mine again. I didn’t want this. Mikey was a friend, a brother.

“Mikey,” I said softly pulling away from his lips.

He frowned at me. “Angel no love Mikey.”

I placed a hand on his cheek, knowing I couldn’t make him mad. “Angel does love Mikey. Mikey is Angel’s best friend. Best friend’s don’t kiss.”

“Really?” he asked confused. “Oh… Mikey didn’t know.”

“That’s fine,” I smiled. “Angel still love Mikey.” And in a weird strange unknown way… I did. “Can I take a shower?” I ask changing the subject.

He grinned and hopped off me. “Sure Angel.”

So I took a shower and what not but when I made it out of the bathroom, Mikey was gone and the door was once again locked.

⎯[()]⎯[(With Mikey)]⎯[()]⎯

“So… Mikey, how is your pet?” the boss asked taking a sip of red wine.

“Not pet,” Mikey instantly answered. “No pet, she Angel.”

“Angel,” the brother corrected. “How is she?”

“Good, brother, good,” the younger but larger and scarred one answer with a grin. “But Mikey didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Best friends don’t kiss.”

The wine glass froze not even an inch from the brother’s lips. Kiss?

“Kiss?” he questioned in a soft and gentle voice. When Mikey didn’t look away from his cartoon show and answer, brother said, “Mikey.” Mikey looked. “What do you mean by best friends don’t kiss?”

Mikey frowned a little, “Mikey kiss Angel.”

“Oh,” the brother said taking another sip, the worry gone. “On the forehead?” he asked even though he knew the answer.

“No lips,” Mikey suddenly said.

Brother froze for yet another time and he finally placed the glass down, looking at his younger brother.

“She kissed you on the lips?” he asked thinking that this pet was up to something.

“No,” Mikey said with a smile again. “Mikey kiss Angel two times on lips. Angel said best friends don’t. Mikey didn’t know but Mikey know now.” Then he turned back to the cartoon on TV.

The brother sat in his chair thinking. Mikey kissed a girl on the lips? That… had never happened. Mikey was too childlike. His mind just never thought of a female that way. So it seemed like brother’s thoughts were right. This pet was different. She might just make a man out of his mentally challenged brother.

This… just couldn’t happen. He would have to stop it. Either Mikey would have to or in 8 days brother would. He half wanted Mikey to get angry and do the little pet in but then brother’s thoughts turned to how yummy little Claire looked.

⎯[()]⎯[(Claire)]⎯[()]⎯

I awoke to Mikey shaking me awake.

“Hmm? Yeah Mikey?” I asked trying to make his face out in the dark.

“Shirt off Angel,” he said.

I looked at his bare chest, “I know Mikey, you never wear a shirt to bed.”

“No Angel,” he said frowning. “Angel take Angel’s shirt off.”

I froze, “What? You want me to take my shirt off?”

“Yes.” He said it like it was nothing.

Mikey’s seen me naked but that was before he kissed me on the lips. What was going on?

“Mikey like Angel’s skin,” he continued. “Angel’s skin soft and smooth not like Mikey’s. Mikey want to touch. No shirt Angel, no shirt.”

His hands then moved out to the bottom of his large shirt I was wearing. I wanted to slap his hands away but my kidnappers warning always rang in my head: “Don’t make Mikey upset. The idiot has choked to death all the girls we’ve brought him. A couple times he’s killed them with one hit to the face, the fucking lug. None have made it past a week.” Mikey may be a friend but he is still bipolar. He could still kill me before he and I realized it. So I just sat there as he pulled the shirt over my head, baring my chest to the air.

“Better,” he smiled.

He laid down then gently pulled me down so my chest rested against his, my face in the crook of his neck. His large hands both rested on my bare back. One remained still on my lower back as the other softly caressed my upper back.

I started to hum a song of Zack’s band. Mikey seemed to like it since his hand stilled for a moment. Soon I think due to my humming, he fell asleep. Then I too feel into sleep.