Callan ~54~

                                    

                                          
She's been gone for a fucking week.
Atticus has gone insane. Zachary isolated himself. And I've been staying up constantly, trying to find any slips or cracks in the security footage. 
We're staying in one of our safe houses, realizing too late that our house, our home, wasn't safe. If only we had realized it earlier. Brooklyn wouldn't have been taken for fucks sake!
Atticus has been drunk out of his mind, refusing to speak to any one of us unless it's about any progress in finding Brooklyn. He damn nearly threw a bottle of whiskey at my head when I told him there was no way to recover the deleted footage. 
I tried to check in on Zachary but I couldn't find him under the ripped pages of every book he has ever owned. I took that as a sign to leave. 
I'm starting to see things. I think it's the sleep deprivation... 
My walls have been whispering and the wind sounds like it's mocking me. My tears laugh when they fall onto my pillow.
I can't look at myself in the mirror in fear that someone is looking back at me. Like that shadow in the corner of my room that has been watching me for the past hour. But every time I look at it, it's not there.
My eyes know nothing but my laptop screen. My tongue hasn't tasted a proper meal. 
My body ached from the lack of sleep, and as corny as it sounds, it yearned for Brooklyn. 
I missed the feeling of her soft skin against my fingertips, and her warm breath against my neck as she slept. She's been with us for two months. Two months of us building a strong bond with her, not only as submissive and dominant but also as partners. As lovers. 
I was angry at myself that I didn't tell her I loved her sooner. In a way, I was scared. But if Atticus could do it... why couldn't I? 
We had Milo and Ethan in hiding, there was no doubt they would be after them also. Milo wouldn't stop begging us to explain things but we couldn't form the right words. So we left Ethan in charge of that. 
Milo threatened us if we didn't find Brooklyn. And a part of me knows his threats would come true. One way or another.
I shut my laptop screen, rubbing my eyes as they burned. I laid back and closed my eyes tightly, the image of Brooklyn immediately filling my thoughts, making me open my eyes again. I stand from my bed and walk out of my room, walking into the kitchen to get some water. The smell of rum and cigarettes hit my lungs and empty stomach, making me want to violently puke. I look into the living room, seeing Atticus watching the TV intensively. 
There was a video playing, the video was pitch black, with muffled voices playing. 
"What's this?" I ask, walking closer to see it properly. He ignores me and continues watching the video. The video flickers on, revealing a dimly lit room. A man walks in, a mask covering his mouth. His eyes pierced into ours through the screen. "Isn't that the guy who escaped the twins?"
He simply nods, grabs the remote, and walks closer to the TV, speeding up the video. That's when another guy walks into the scene. I clenched my jaw, recognizing Joshua and his shit-eating grin. Wasn't the bastard dead?
"Hey there. Just letting y'all know that my little pet is finally home and safe with me. No need to worry your heads now." He says, smiling into the camera. He looks to the side and nods his head, moving to the side. 
Another man walks into the frame, holding a limp body in his arms. My heart dropped when I realized it was Brooklyn. She looked so pale and sick. Her hair was tied up, too knotty to be brushed out. 
The skin around her eyes was a slight tint of red, indicating she had been crying lately. 
"As you can see, she's perfectly fine here with me. So stop trying to find us and worry about yourselves." He smirks sinisterly before walking out of the frame, the camera going black. Atticus replayed the video, pausing it on Brooklyn. 
"Can you track the video?" I ask him, staring at our angel who has fallen into the devil's arms. 
"Tried." He grumbles before going back to the couch, scrolling through his phone and then aggressively typing on his laptop. I took that as a no and left. The tension between all three of us was too thick to breathe.  
I caught Zachary in the kitchen, mumbling things to himself. I blinked and he was gone. He never left his room. I grabbed some water and grabbed a handful of melatonin gummies, ate them, and washed the taste down with the water. I go to my room and lay down, desperately needing sleep if I wanted to find her.
It took me a while to fall asleep, but when I did, I didn't dream. 
I was awoken by the sound of cursing and glass smashing. I look at the time to see I barely slept three hours. I crawl out of bed and out to the living room. I jump back when a glass comes flying my way.
I glare at Atticus who is staring at Zachary with deep sunken eyes. Zachary stared at him with equally red eyes. 
"The hell is going on??" I shout, making both of them look at me. Zachary lulled his head to the side, popping it. 
"Mind your damn business." Atticus growled. Turning his gaze back to Zachary. They were acting like two feral street cats fighting for dominance. I blinked and Zachary was lunging himself at Atticus, trying to land a punch but Atticus threw him down, falling with him due to his drunk state. 
They were rolling around on the broken glass, trying to hit each other but failing miserably. I couldn't do anything but stand there and watch them. We were destroying ourselves. We were slowly tearing away.
I want my Brooklyn back.
If there is a God out there... please. Bring her back.
"Enough! Both of you! Look at yourself." I hiss, glaring at Atticus. "You need to fucking sober up. The only way we can find Brooklyn is if we put our fucking heads together and work as a team. And we can't do that when you're too drunk to count till three and you don't want to see the light of the sun again." 
The two men stare at me, Zachary clenching his jaw before standing, huffing, and walking away. I knew he would shape up soon, it was just Atticus who had me more worried. 
"If Brooklyn was to walk through that front door right now," I point to the door, praying to every God that might exist that she does. "And saw you like this, how do you think she'd react? It's time to shape yourself up, Atticus."
He stares at me with a clenched jaw, standing to his feet. He grabs another bottle of wine, his knuckles turning white from the grip against it. He steps closer to me, his voice dropping low. He presses his finger into my chest, aggressively pushing me with it.
"You can't take a splinter out of your neighbor's eye when there's a log in yours."
And he was right.