|nick pierce is definitely (nottherobin) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2012-06-30 03:40:00
|Entry tags:||stephanie brown|
|The phone call left Nick unnerved and quite restless, and hours and hours later, when the sun peaked over the pink, desert horizon, he hadn’t slept a wink. The only thoughts ruminating in his head were of Alexander, his twin, and the bad taste their last conversation left in his mouth. He tried not to believe in the finality of it all, tried to believe that it would all be okay, but a voice niggling in the back of his mind assured he would never forget the reality. His brother was in trouble, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Alex wouldn’t let him. That, well, that was the most frustrating thing of all, and Nick, who was never really a violent person, found himself knocking over a project teetering in the corner, the metal coming to the floor with a clatter. Why, why was this all happening? He pondered on the thought as he shook the sharp pain from his hand and surveyed the damage with a pang of mourning. There was no question about it: he couldn’t save his brother.|
He waited the allotted time, just over a day after those last words Alex spoke, before he jumped into his small sedan and immediately drove out of the city. His body ran on little more than coffee and adrenaline and utmost concern during that two and a half hour drive from Vegas to Barstow. It was quiet, unnervingly so, in the desert compared to the constant buzz the sin city offered, and the quiet was the last thing he needed at the moment. The quiet welcomed thoughts of Alex and what he was suffering through right now.
The storage unit was the first stop, and it was easy enough to find. The unit was left open, surprisingly, and the moment Nick stepped in, his nose was assaulted by the overwhelming stench of cleaning supplies. The smell made him nauseous, but the implications made him feel even worse. He knew something bad happened here, but someone wiped the evidence clean. There was no stains on the concrete floor, no body to speak of, nothing. But he somehow knew this was where his brother died. Rubbing his eye to stave the tears burning behind his lids, he strolled out of the unit without touching a thing and left the door open.
The Barstow house proved more difficult to find, but he finally found it on an off-beaten path just off the interstate. Standing on the porch for a moment, hand shaking, he took a steadying breath. Deep breath in, deep breath out. In and out, in and out, until he quelled the dizziness threatening to knock him over. Twisting the doorknob, he stepped inside the ramshackle house. It was left untouched as well, save for the open door allowing the blasting cold air to billow throughout the rooms. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes before drifting to the back room instinctively. Nick wasn't ready for what he saw -- the bloodstained mattress and sheets, the bag of instruments and vials, opened and inviting for those wanting to play a sick game. He could rationalize it being one of the people his twin warned him off -- Luke Henry, Simon Curran, or Wren Maheu -- but he couldn't convince himself of it. This was Alex's doing, whatever happened in this house.
Silly enough, he reached forward first to turn off the air conditioner before even going forward to tackle what was necessary. With a wibbling lip, Nick busied himself with cleaning up after his brother's mess. He found a pair of gloves in the bag and began removing the damning evidence one-by-one into the trunk of his car. First the bag of supplies, then the articles of clothing, then the sheets and finally the mattress. The house was far enough removed that no one would see Nick playing cover-up. He was determined not to let anyone know about what Alex did, whatever it was. He couldn't allow that for his brother.
Everything was unceremoniously disposed of in a decaying garbage dump about an hour away from Barstow, the dry California heat beating down on the back of his neck, and then he headed right back to Las Vegas. On his second day without sleep, Nick arrived at the first LVPD precinct Siri pointed him out too and filed a missing persons report. He knew they wouldn't find anything, but he informed them vaguely of what he was 'aware' of. That he had been away, that his twin had been having troubles lately, and of the house in Barstow. It was for appearances, mostly, but Nick desperately wanted to find some sort of answers. At the very least, a body to bring back to his folks.
With a considerable amount of emptiness in his chest, Nick stood outside the precinct and pulled out his phone. Fingers dialed the numbers without second thought, and as he raised the phone to his ear, he wondered how everything had ended up this way.
"Hey, Mom. It's Nicky. Something's...happened."