The Silence That Surrounds

Sophia’s POV:

I picked at the small puddle of curry that laid unappetizingly on my plate. Nothing had taste and nothing had meaning. I just know my days are better slept and gone from this bloody fucking reality then I am any use existing in it.

“You’ve barely eaten anything, Soph. Come on – don’t make me feed you.” Dylan smiled.

Studying his face, the smirk never reached his eyes. They didn’t light up like they normally did when he teases and he appeared lost on what to do. This was beyond his control and understanding…hell, it was beyond mine too.

When I didn’t answer he sighed and moved to sit beside me on our bed. Despite our new found freedom, Dylan still wasn’t allowed to sit in the kitchen to eat without his hands tied behind him and I wasn’t in the mood – apparently it was a mutual feeling around the table because Harry decided he would eat in our room and since I didn’t want the company of the green eyed monster or his group of spare parts, family was always a better option so I joined Dylan and here we are – Christian included. Suicide watch is an invasion of privacy…at least it should be.

I heard the clink of chains from the movement on Dylan’s foot as he began to tap it rabidly against the floor – a nervous tick he acquired at an early age. Though that does tend to happen when you’re sent to the headmaster’s office every other day for illegal selling of unregulated junk food – even worse when you’re selling them to a diabetic. Dad was pissed and I remember quite a few ass beatings he’s received over the years for his stupid shit. Now, it seems almost laughable. He only taps his foot when he’s extremely worried.

I reached over and pressed on his knee to still the clinking of the chains before looking back to his face and bringing my hand to his bruised cheek.

“Stop worrying. We’ll be okay.” I spoke gently but he took my hand from his face and rubbed over my knuckles with his thumb in an equally fragile manner.

“I’m your bother, it’s my job. Fuck the fallout we had, it was stupid and I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He apologized, guiding my hand up to his lips and kissing the top of it, tears welling in pools above his eyelashes.

I never felt so guilt as I did at that moment.

“It’s not important, none of what happened before this is important and you needn’t apologize. It’s my bloody fault you’re in this situation to begin with.” I sighed, knowing my anger towards my own flesh and blood was unjustified.

Christian sat watching in silence, his sad blues looked on in despair. He hadn’t even shed a tear for his loss – only the first night when he found out but the rest, he remained reserved and quiet. He answered only when he was required to.

“Cheer up, mate.” Dylan said, directing his statement to Christian when he saw my far away stare.

“My mum is dead. She’s not coming to get me like she said she would, she broke her promise and I’m stuck here in this hell now. How do you expect me to cheer up?” Christian spat bitterly, folding his arms childishly as if that would finalize the point.

I smiled despite it all. There was just something so innocent about his rant that seemed so childlike that he reminded me of Peter Pan – the boy who wouldn’t grow up.

“Very well maybe hopeless but what good does it do to become bitter?” Dylan pointed out calmly, his arm retreating from me as he shifted to the other side, facing the young boy. “We can’t let tragedy define who we are or who we become. You have to fight it, you have to fight the darkness because from what I know of the old Christian – he was a carefree young lad who would smile – despite the hard times.”

I felt a small warmth in my stomach from Dylan’s words. He was always a good motivational speaker. His words, before our fallout were probably always the most reassuring. Especially when he was by my side at the dinner parties’ father would insist we attend for the benefit of the company. He would comfort my fears, assuring me that I did not need more makeup or a shorter dress – much to the ill advice opposite of Daniel – our father.

“You talk as though you fucking know me. You don’t know me, you’re a fucking hostage. What value do you have?! Huh? NONE!” Christian yelled, folding his arms over his chest and turning his face away.

I put my untouched dinner on the nightstand and faced the two. Dylan didn’t seem hurt. In fact, his eyes were full of understanding and pain.

“Oh lad, come here. Tell me about your mum. I know talking about her will help.” Dylan tried to soothe but Christian swatted his hand away.

I felt a tear trail down my numbing heart but I could not deny its sadness. We were all depressed or suicidal and yet – some of us had a much wider reserve than most. Mine was already broken but even through the pain that my heart felt, I was luckier than most. Christian couldn’t even express his pain to anyone, whereas – I had Dylan.

I reached over and wrapped my arms around the younger boy and pulled him close to my chest. He didn’t fight me, he simply let me hug him.

“Come here little one, you do need to talk. If you can’t talk to Dylan, talk to me. I may not say much but I am here and I am listening.” I assured him in a small whisper.

Dylan reached over and rubbed Christian’s back, smiling faintly at me before using his other hand to wipe away the falling tear from my cheek and kissing the wet trail where it ended.

“You’re still my most favorite older sister.” Dylan reassured.

I snorted.

“I had you kidnapped for information, DD, how can you not hate me?” I frowned but he just chuckled and continued on soothing Christian.

Christian eventually wrapped his delicate hands around my neck and let out a repressed sob.

“Mum broke her promise, she said she’d come and get me – she promised after she took out a loan to pay back Master Styles that she’d come and get me and get off the pain medicine she said she needed. Heroin, she said it was the only medicine that was strong enough to work for her and that she would come back for me and that she wouldn’t need it anymore. She always promised me it was the last time.” Christian began desperately, taking in a huge breath of my stale smelling shirt before continuing.

“She swore on our bible every night before we went to bed that she would get better. Mum was a Christian woman, she was a good woman who just had problems. She taught me not to judge a book by its cover and she would never let me go to school, it was because she wanted to bring me up to be a good person and didn’t want me to be corrupted by evils of the outside world. She taught me to read the bible when I was two. We’d sit for hours and she would read it to me. By Four, I knew all the stories and versus front to back. I want my mum! I wanted her to get better because she promised me she would, why did she lie? Why didn’t she keep her promise?” Christian was now sobbing into my chest and all I could do was push the back of his head forward in a tight hug. My heartstrings were lite aflame by sadness and aching painfully inside my ribcage while I listened.

“Sometimes bud, our loved ones must leave us because the universe has a higher purpose for them. Your mum finished what she was sent to earth to do and God – or, whatever might be out there decided he needed her home.” Dylan explained softly, making me remember a distinct conversation when we were younger.

God was never a discussion in our household – except when Daniel prayed for a successful business account. I was twelve and Dylan was eleven at the time, my dog, Jinko, he died because dad didn’t want me to have a dog but mum was trying to smooze over the new family and their dog recently gave birth to twelve puppies. She got me the skinniest runt and told me it reminded her of me when I was a baby – of course, she was drunk off her arse at the time and when dad came home and found out, he was beyond mad. In a moment of rage he kicked Jinko across the room in the head and it was probably the one time he hit me when I wouldn’t stop screaming and crying. He told me I was being disrespectful for disturbing mum. Who, might I add was passed out by the time Daniel came home.

Dylan saw dad hit me and grabbed my hand, making me run away with him. We ended up in his room, him hugging me and telling me it was okay because Jinko was happy because he was ‘in heaven playing fetch’. God, to be a child again.

It was the very next day that I got Mr. Tum Tum’s. I named him Tum Tum’s because Daniel woke me up by rubbing my stomach, not my chest like he usually did most mornings. He apologized and explained that I needed to start being strong if I was going to be his daughter and be the leader he knew I was capable of being when I got older but he acknowledged that he let his temper get the better of him and that he thought I had been a ‘good girl’ all week for him. So he contacted his one partner who he remembered had gotten a small kitten that they decided they didn’t want. So he simply threw the box onto my bed and reached over, his hand going to my chest and massaging my barely developing breasts before standing to leave the room – my poor kitten mewing desperately to get out of his box prison.

I unwrapped the box and pulled out the most beautiful kitten I had ever seen in my life. My now ten year old cat, lost and alone with strangers. Although, everyone was his friend and he loved everyone, even Harry.

“Earth to Sophie.” Dylan smiled, his hand trying to release my iron vice grip on Christian’s head so he could breathe.

I loosened my grip and pulled his body closer to my shoulder, a slight pain still radiating from my neither region reminded me just how hopeless it all had been from that day. Why couldn’t I just – why was it so easy to let go but so hard at the same time?

“I’m so sorry Chris. I truly am.” I whispered, rocking his body gently until his sobs had diminished to small sniffling. It had been an hour at the very least.

I untangled myself from the lad’s arms and pulled him from my body, kissing the tip of his red nose, smiling forcefully the only smile I could muster,, it never reached my blue ocean eyes but I could see Christian’s orb lighten from the anger and sadness he had repressed for the last few days.

“I think I know what will make you smile. I’ll be right back.” I promised them before standing up and taking our plates out to the kitchen.

When I reached the table Harry and the rest of them were still sitting around it – with the exception of Niall who was washing the dishes. I went over and dumped the three plates we accumulated in our bedroom into the sink, standing there a few moments as he just continued to wash.

“Anything I can help with?” I asked Niall softly, which only earned me a nod of his head back towards the hall.

“Yeah, you can leave. I’m plenty distracted enough without you around, lass. Leave me to my chore and seek something to do elsewhere.” Niall said, his tone completely avoid of any emotion. I had no idea what was up with him, he’s been acting distant since the rape.

“Okay. I’m sorry I bothered you.” I gave up, turning to head back to my room but Harry stopped me, having witnessed everything.

“Sophia? Come take a seat for a moment if you will, please.” He gestured to my chair.

I stopped and made my way over to the chair, sitting down into it quietly. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly before taking up Niall’s spot next to me so he and I were facing one another.

“I need you up about four tomorrow morning. We’re going to take a drive into London for the day to conduct some business. I need you to see the way things are run so that you may get an understanding. Tomorrow will consist of collecting money and we also have a pickup and delivery. A human package to be exact,” He paused for my reaction momentarily before continuing.

“I am not going to sugarcoat it and I don’t want you freaking out when we’re there so I need you to get prepared. From the information that I got, he is twenty-three and was let out on parole for the rape and murder of an eleven year old girl. He is only out on parole because of a technicality with police. They arrested him without giving him his rights – the parole is for stealing on a previous crime. The father of the little girl paid us quite a large sum to deliver the lad, so we are to do just that. Zayn and Louis are going to assist us, Niall and Liam are staying back with Dylan and Christian.” He explained.

I nodded quietly to show I understood, standing up a second later. That was only momentary because the next second I found myself back in the chair with Harry’s hands on my shoulders to help guide me back into the wooden frame.

“I’m not done, flower. In turn for this mission, I need to do something and while I don’t distrust you, I can’t take the risk in being wrong. So I am giving you a choice here.” He suddenly turned cryptic, his dark greens contrasting to a shadowy waver, glancing off to Liam with a slight nod.

Liam confirmed the nod with one of his own, standing to walk over with his chair and sit down beside Harry.

The older gent didn’t say anything to me, he simply pulled out two syringes and showed them to me.

I didn’t move, only looked at Harry and waited for him to explain.

“Liam has two types of tracers. One is to be injected near your voice box so that we can monitor everything that is exchanged between you and anyone else that you come into contact with. Mainly Daniel but for the most part, assume that it is always active and always monitoring. It has a short lifespan and will dissolve and make its way out of your body via excretion. The device normally lasts a month and is virtually microscopic. The next one is a tracker, it will be permanently inserted between your shoulder blades.”

I began to shake my head in disbelief, trying to stand again but his touch to my shoulder blades never released.

“Sophia, I’m giving you a choice here. Either you allow Liam to do this willingly or we hold you down and sedate you if need be. Please don’t fight us on this matter, it’s your chance to prove to me I can trust you and this is done for your own safety. We’ve had unsuspected problems where one of our men have gone missing – he was kidnapped by a rival opposition and they brutally tortured him for information before releasing him back to us with barely a mind to function at all. I had to put a bullet in his head. We all have the trackers because we want to be safe and I need you to cooperate with me on this because, despite your thoughts on our little gang, you are now a part of it and we do care for our safety as well as yours. Please don’t make me hold you down and force this on you.” He asked with a pleading tone, his voice a detection of exasperation but he was being genuine.

I hesitated, gently taking the syringe filled with the small, barely visible to the naked eye black dot in a preservative liquid. The other tracker was slightly larger and easier to see.

I handed Liam the syringes back.

“Will it hurt?” I asked Liam and then turned my eyes back to Harry, his hands dropping from my shoulders.

“I will be very careful Ms. Stone, I promise.” Liam smiled subtly, uncapping the needle.

For the first time I noticed how long it was. It was lengthier than any needle I had ever seen, six – maybe even eight inches.

“I–I.” I felt a slew of icy doom creeping through every bloodline in my body. Bloody hell, you could be as careful as you wanted and it was still going to hurt.

“Sophia? Look up here, luv. Look at me, I need you focused here.” Harry said, knowing my eyes were following Liam’s hand like a hawk.

“S-sedate me, don’t hold m-me down, just sedate me.” I begged, Liam’s hand touching the spot on my neck to where he would inject the tracer.

“Just hold still and it won’t hurt as much, I promise. I’ve injected these into every gang member and have never had any problems. Trust me, Ms. Stone, you are in good hands.” Liam assured, his hand swiping a piece of hair from my neck.

I don’t know if that was supposed to be a comforting gesture but it certainly didn’t help my nerves.

With little choice I looked back to Harry.

“Good lass. Okay tomorrow –“

I let out a loud exclamation but remained perfectly still. Omg, omg it burns, my throat is on fire!

Harry put his hand on my shoulder, a small shh coming from his lips as he spoke, watching Liam who had slowly but fragilely inserted the tip, going deeper into my neck until the whole needle was sticking into the front.

He quickly put pressure on the plunger and pulled the empty syringe from my flesh.

I gasped for air, whimpering at the fire that now licked the inside of my tender throat.

“That a girl, see? You’re toughening up already.” Louis chuckled, his voice clearly drowning in sarcasm.

“Louis, shut the fuck up. You put your fist through the bloody wall when Liam inserted that tracker into your arm. So if anything Sophia handled it more gracefully than you ever did. Stop being a bloody prick! Her life is already hell around here without you opening your big mouth and making it worse! Fucking bloody git sack!” Niall snapped, slamming the unwashed dish back into the sink with force before walking over to the door and slamming it shut as he went outside.

Louis snorted at Niall’s sentiment.

“Someone has a little boy crush on Sophia.” Louis laughed.

Harry groaned in annoyance but that was it.

“Lift up your shirt, Ms. Stone.” Liam instructed.

With shaking hands I made an attempt to do as he asked but the material kept sliding back down. I was too nervous to do anything else but shake, although, I thank God I hadn’t decided to cry.

Zayn shot up from his chair and went to stand at the back beside Liam.

He grasped the shirt and pulled it up with steady fingers, holding it there. His other hand was playing with my hair, massaging it between his fingers.

“Good Sophia, you’re doing wonder.” Zayn praised in a small whisper, his voice soft but smiling. I don’t know what was happening lately. Niall’s coldness was unnerving but Zayn’s warmth was reassuring – despite the hopelessness, Zayn seemed to be the light that shined the most.

I groaned when I felt the other syringe, the tracker plunging in between my shoulder blades. It took less than five seconds but between the two injections, it felt like an eternity.

“You did well, Sophia.” Harry nodded, leaving the chair to head down the hall, returning momentarily with two small dye boxes and a pair of scissors. “We only have one more thing to do. Since you’re wanted by the whole of England, we are going to need to alter your appearance slightly. Starting with your hair.”

My eyes widened and I began to struggle. There was no fucking way I was getting a haircut and I was not dying my beautiful red hair fucking black! I have been growing my hair out since I was sixteen and I will be DAMNED if Harry was touching it with anything sharp.

He was a gang underboss, not a beautician.

“NO!” I let out a panicked yell, feeling their hands begin to hold me down.

“It’s not a request, Sophia. It’s a direct order from Damien himself. Don’t fight me on this, alright? I have to dye my hair and straighten it – we both are going to have to make sacrifices and since I can’t trust you with anything sharp, I will need to take matters into my own hands.” Harry explained calmly, gathering my hair into one of his large hands. He looked regretful for a moment but that emotion was quickly killed off.

Without any other words spoken, he placed the scissors at the base of my neck, right below where my shoulder were and began to cut my beautiful long hair away.

After keeping my tears of pain at bay, they came down like a faucet. I was mourning for my long hair, it was a representation of who I was and now, even that was being stripped away. Why was Harry so cruel? Why did they all get so much pleasure from my misery?

I sobbed into my hands when they were released, the stink of hair dye followed not too long after. By that time, I was crying for my brother and after a quick debate, Zayn went to fetch him.

Harry just continued to dye my hair while the other two stood around to make sure I didn’t try to run.

When Dylan entered into the room his mouth hung open in pure shock. He rushed over to me quickly as his arms fell over me in a comforting hug once more.

“Why?” I sobbed, my face buried into his chest – some of the dye staining his expensive shirt. Although he didn’t seem to care about that at the moment, he just spoke comforting words and even attempted a joke but it wasn’t funny and I was upset. Everything from free will to my identity was now taken and I had no control over anything.

“I want to die.” I cried in distress, my body shaking with anxiety.

“I know, sis. I know but we got to press on.” Dylan shushed, kissing my clothed shoulder where the dye hadn’t touched.

“I’m sorry, Sophia. I truly am but there’s no other way to get out of these orders. If you want to direct your anger at anyone – direct it at your father for making you wanted.” Harry defended himself.

“Just do the best you can with her hair.” Dylan sighed, now clearly annoyed – although, I think his anger was directed at Daniel and he’s not the only one. That bastard is going to be sorry – very fucking sorry if I have anything to do with it.

“When you’re done with her, give me the same cut.” Dylan murmured, making sure to tighten his embrace so that my body wasn’t moving about so much. I couldn’t stop shaking but everything hit me and I never felt so much anger and depression as I did in that moment.

Notes

enjoy :-)