Numb

When Niall's girlfriend is driven over the edge by a message sent anonymously, Niall breaks down. But after paying a visit to her sister, he decides to take revenge. To find who did this to her.
To take them down.
But to do this, he needs to destroy a few lives, reveal a few secrets and break a few hearts.
A story of love, revenge and betrayal.

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2. Bent On Revenge.

The air in the cemetery was misty and cold, the kind that seeped through your skin and made your bones shiver. The type of air that signaled that rain was about to fall.

Then, when the first few drops fell, fifteen black umbrellas blossomed and sheltered the majority of the black-clad people crowded around the headstone. The priest was babbling on about how much she would be missed, and that it was a grievous event that took place.

But I could feel everybody's eyes rest on me, in the end. Because it was my fault. If she hadn't of been with me, she would probably still be alive. Still breathing, happy, smiling.

Hell, I missed that smile.

"Jade McBride was a wonderful person, always going out of her way to help others. . ."

I'd had enough.

Turning my back to the lowering coffin, I meandered away, casually avoiding numerous headstones.

I eventually found a stone bench, all the way on the other side of the graveyard, and stuffed my hands in the pockets of my black dress trousers before sitting down. I didn't like wearing black that much, but it was mandatory when you were attending a funeral.

The strumming of a guitar distracted me from my thoughts and I got up off the bench to follow the sound. Eventually, I found a girl perched under an oak tree, eyes closed. Her face was an expression of bliss.

Weird. Why would somebody who looked like that be sat in a cemetery strumming 'A Team' on an acoustic guitar?

I walked over to her and she opened her eyes when I blocked the sour daylight.

"Hi there." She smiled kindly and patted the flattened grass beside her. I shrugged and sat down, bringing my knees up to my chin.

She resumed her previous position and closed her eyes. I took the opportunity to survey her appearance. When her eyes were open, they were a bright green with long blond lashes. She was tall, but curvy and her hair was blonde and wavy with blue-dyed ends. She was wearing green converse and a tie-dye shirt with skinny jeans and a red beanie. Something bright and wild in the middle of a dull, grey cemetery.

"What's your name?" She sat up and put the guitar down. My hands itched to play something. A few chords and maybe I'd feel sane again.

"Niall." I muttered.

But if she thought I was being a miserable fucker she didn't show it. A smile was on her face as if she'd just received all her Christmas presents early.

"Niall. . . cute. I'm Alexis. Alex, if you want."

I nodded mutely and chewed on my bottom lip. I didn't want to go back, even if I had to sit with a hippie-girl and her guitar.

"So what are you in here for?" She gestured to the rest of the cemetery with her flashy pink nails.

I thought for a while, but then I realized she would've probably spotted the large gathering of people around someone's grave. Nobody else was there except from me and her and the people who had came to attend Jade's funeral.

"Girlfriend." I murmured, feeling the dagger in my gut twist a little. That's what guilt felt like. That's what loss felt like.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She didn't press the issue any further, which I was glad about. Then she sat up, after a few minutes of silence, picking up her guitar and shoving it into my arms. I had no choice but to flatten my legs and accept the guitar.

I'm a good liar, even to myself.

"Play. I know you can."

I didn't question her accurate statement, but I did play. Not the song I used to play for her - no, that would be too much, too soon. Strumming hard and angry, listening to the sweet melody the acoustic guitar made, holding its solid form in my hands. It was heaven, even when I felt like hell.

When I'd finished, Alex smiled and nodded, but didn't take the guitar away. Maybe she knew I'd collapse without it.

"You're good. Music's my life, y'know. Not just the pop crap everyone else listens to," I shot her an accusing glance and she held her hands up as if in surrender, "I'm just saying! It's rubbish to me. Music's everything sweet and harmonic and heavenly and just. . . life."

I nodded along with her words and began to absently strum a tune out. I'd had some seriously fucked up moments in my life.

The first was seeing my older brother with a pair of boxers on his head; the second was seeing my girlfriend lying dead in our bed. And the third? That moment, right there, at the edge of a cemetery playing a guitar with a girl that vaguely reminded me of a mermaid/hippie.

"It won't be this bad, I promise. I mean, I guess it's just the raw pain at the beginning, right? But trust me, everything will get better."

But I didn't want to listen. And I no longer wanted to play. I put the guitar down on the grass and stood up, wiping down my black suit. Then I took a deep, staggering breath and marched away from her, making a beeline for Jade's grave. But everyone had left. And the grave-diggers were just about to pour soil on top of my dead girlfriend's coffin. I felt sick.

Grabbing the white peony from my inside pocket, I clutched the stem before tossing it on top of the shiny black surface. Then the two men set to work, shoveling heaps of earth into the 6-foot-deep hole.

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, the grave looked like it had been there for 5 years instead of five minutes. The earth looked slightly darker, having been dug up, but otherwise it looked like a normal grave. The cemetery didn't look as if there had been a funeral, either.

I dropped to my knees in front of the headstone and traced my index finger along the intricate carvings of her name and the date she had been born, and died.

"She didn't die for no reason, Blondie."

I stood up and brushed dirt of my knees before turning to see a not-so-pleasant surprise.

"Hi, Elise. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Elise McBride was Jade's younger sister. She looked similar to Jade in some ways, but she didn't really like her sister that much. I couldn't for the life of me think why. Jade was perfect.

I took a brief moment to see how puberty had affected her. The last time I had seen Elise had been when she was a skinny fourteen-year-old giggling over boys and sobbing over friend dramas. Hormonal, not particularly attractive, and scornful towards her older sister.

Now, though, she had developed a bit too well. Her hair was a hazelnut brown, sleek and shiny and cut so that it was now just below her shoulders. Her green eyes were framed by long, thick lashes and we narrowed slightly so that she looked like she could cause a shit-load of mischief if she wanted to. Her cherry-red lips were twisted into a sarcastic smile and she had curves that could stop traffic on the freeway. All-in-all, she seemed way too attractive to be the Elise I knew and hated.

"You don't think I'd attend my own sisters funeral?" She pressed a hand to her rather over-developed chest and pretended to be shocked.

I laughed, but it was a laugh without humour.

"I know you wouldn't attend your own sisters funeral."

She shot back, her beautiful face wild indignation.

"I didn't see you there."

"That's because I was wi-" I turned to see the girl under the oak tree had disappeared.

Turning back to Elise, I rolled my eyes. I didn't have to talk to her. Not after what had happened. I went back to staring at Jade's name.

I grimaced as Elise crouched down in front of me, her black denim miniskirt slung low enough to see the top of her lacy red thongs. Oh, so she was a whore now.

"Look," she whispered, glancing around the graveyard as if what she was about to say was so fucking important, "I know who sent her the message. I know who made her kill herself."

I blinked up at her in surprise and mild shock. I didn't think Elise was capable of knowing what three plus two was, never mind who drove her sister to the point of suicide.

"I tracked the email down and located it to a guy who lives a few streets away from you. His name is Scott Sinclair. He sent her the message, anonymously of course.

"How do you know it was him?"

"Would I lie about something this serious, Blondie?"

I considered it for a moment. Yes, she would. Because unlike Jade, Elise was a girl who loved to get revenge. Even on innocent people. She had once told me that she found an addictive thrill in watching people destroy their own lives by her hand. It didn't seem appealing, but each to their own. Although, I don't think even Elise would go so far as to destroy her own sister.

"No, I guess not."

She smiled, seeming pleased at my response.

"Here's the address, and here's my number." She pushed a slip of paper into my hand and kissed my cheek before standing up and leaving. Her lips had left a print of blood-red lipstick. I felt violated.

I looked down at Jade's grave and frowned.

"Sorry about that. Having fun down there?" I swallowed and felt something build up in my chest. Then a thought, a weird, unnatural thought, crept into my head.

Maybe, just maybe, I could use this slip of paper to take revenge. Not completely mess up the guys life, but just enough to push him to the edge. It seemed only fair, after what he did to Jade. Then I realized something: it wasn't my fault Jade was six feet under, it was Scott's. If he hadn't of sent that message, Jade would be in my arms, whispering sweet nothings into my ear every night.

Yes, I would find out everything about Scott. I'd heard about him from people at school anyway. I think he sat at the back in my English class. I'd become friends with the fucker, then break him. It seemed like the perfect revenge.

I made a promise, to Jade, that I'd find Scott SinClaire.

Find him, then take him down.

 

 

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