by Belle Aurora
“No,” I whisper, lifting a shaking hand to cover my mouth while wrapping the other around myself, holding myself. Comforting myself. Closing my eyes tightly, a soft keening cry escapes me.
My sadness is cut short as anger surges through my veins like molten lava.
This is all his fault.
Panting, I snap my eyes open, grit my teeth, and hiss, “This is your fault. All your fault!” Twitch takes a small step back as if my words are physically wounding him. “He was just a boy. And now he’s dead. My job is to help them, and I’m going to have to live with knowing I’m responsible for this – for his death – because…” My voice breaks. “…he never would’ve met you if I wasn’t fucking you!” Dipping my chin, my shoulders shake in silent sobs. Fingers on my arm cause me to flinch away.
Slowly lifting my head, I glare up at him in disgust. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking touch me.” Walking backwards, I throw my parting shot. “Everything you touch turns to shit.”
Turning, I walk away. Crying to myself, I wonder how I’m going to tell Tahlia that her date is cancelled.
Some things in life are so sad that there are no words to describe the amount of sadness, grief, and sorrow a person is feeling.
I assume this is why God allowed humans the simple act of crying.
When a person cries, they feel the sadness slowly ease out of them. They feel as though they are justifiably respecting a person that has died through showing their grief. They allow a moment of sorrow to overcome them and cry out a small portion of their unseen pain.
Calling Tahlia was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
Holding back my tears for a moment, I tried to be strong for her. I really did. She assumed I had called her to congratulate her and give her tips for her date. When she laughed uninhibitedly and shouted, “I can’t believe he finally asked me!” that was the moment I broke down again.
I explained that her date wouldn’t be going ahead and she gave me radio silence. It’s hard to read someone over the phone when they go silent on you. You don’t know what’s happening or what they’re feeling. Sniffling, I told her there had been an accident and that Michael was taken to the hospital. Immediately, Tahlia asked which hospital in a panic. She said she wanted to go see him. I tried hard to ease her into the deep end. That is, until I realized there is no easy way to tell a person that someone they care about has died.
Tahlia continued her silence while I explained that Michael was fatally shot. She listened patiently, never giving away her emotions. She ended our call abruptly with a furious, “Is that all, Ms. Ballentine? I really need to get going.”
Her sudden change in character should’ve been alarming, but I know she was just protecting herself. I pulled myself together enough to tell her I was always free if she needed to talk, and to please let me know if she needed anything. She grunted in my ear and told me that wouldn’t be necessary. We said our restrained goodbyes, and Tahlia had thrown her phone down obviously thinking she had ended the call. But she hadn’t.
I listened to her cry for an hour.
I couldn’t bring myself to hang up. I felt that it would be abandoning her. I couldn’t do that. Not to one of my kids. So I cried with her.
Charlie gave me the rest of the week off. I tried to hide just how badly this was affecting me, but he saw right through me. What he doesn’t know is that a week to myself is a week of torture. My mind will wander down all the paths it shouldn’t.
I’ll spend the week blaming myself. I’ll spend the week hating Twitch. I’ll spend the week missing Michael.
Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, I fall asleep letting out a torrent of tears.
My heart is silently breaking.
Guilt eats away at me.
Why did he have to die when I am allowed to live?
He was seventeen years old.
Somewhere in the middle of sleep and wakefulness, I feel someone slide into bed with me. I smell him right away. Not even fully awake, my mouth parts, and I let out a soft cry as I’m reminded of why he had to sneak in. His arms circle me. He holds me close, rocking me and cooing. I hear his voice hitch every now and then. The warmth of his tears slide down my temple.
He tells me it’s going to be okay. He says he’ll make it better. He tells me he’s sorry. Over and over again.
We fall into a tangle of limbs, and my last though before I fall asleep is, “This is a bad time to tell him I’m pregnant.”
Waking in the dark, I find myself alone and panic for a moment. Lifting my head, I hear movement in the kitchen and my head falls to the pillow with a whoosh.
I dreamed of Twitch while I slept.
He was high up, mounted on a white stallion, wearing gleaming silver armour. His tattooed hand lowered to reach out for me. I stared at that hand a long while before I stepped away from him and watched as he faded out of my mind’s eye.
Perhaps I built him up so much in my head that I don’t see him for what he truly is.
I don’t want a knight in shining armor.
I want a knight in scuffed armor.
I want his helmet to have dents. I want my knight to be real, and dark, and savage. I want my knight to be a survivor. Someone who’s been tested and got through his trials. Not some pussy in gleaming metal.
I don’t want gleaming metal. I don’t need a fucking knight.
I need a fearless warrior.
I need Twitch.
Approaching the kitchen, I stand at the end of the hall looking in.
My heart breaks for him.
He sits with has back to me, shoulders slumped with his chin dipped. Leaving him to some peace and quiet, I turn to leave.
“I need help,” he whispers.
Without turning back to him, I grip the doorframe tightly and respond just as quietly through the thickness in my throat. “I know, baby.”
A moment passes before he asks quietly, “How would I-I mean, how do I—” I hear the frustration loud and clear. “How?”
Finally turning, I take in his defeated posture. “I’ll help you.”
“No. Anyone but you.”
Firmer this time. “I’ll help you, Twitch.”
I almost miss it when he whispers, “Don’t deserve your help.”
He’s right. He doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore his plea. I can’t do that.
Making my way across the room, I place my hand on his bare, tattooed shoulder. He flinches. Recovering quickly, he places his hand on mine and squeezes. “I need help.”
Squeezing his shoulder in a silent show of support, the bridge of my nose tingles. Tears well in my eyes. I try desperately to hold it inside of me. All in vain.
My body shakes in silent sobs. Relief flows through me.
I can’t believe it. I’m stunned. I never thought I’d see the day.
He’s ready.
He wants help.
It’s all over the news.
How a boy of seventeen caught up in delivering drugs was shot and killed by drug dealers in a crooked part of town. How a lucky passer-by and high profile business owner is lucky to be alive after trying to assist the wayward youth. But everyone who hears the story shakes their head in a well, that’s what you get kind of way. Because Michael was just another boy in the system. Another rebellious kid just looking for ways to shock people and be a nuisance. He was just a piece of dirt asking for it.
My heart – barely held together – cracks with every false retelling of the story.
And it gets worse and even more fabricated every damn time.
No one even knew him. He was destined for bigger things. He wanted a life. A good life. He was working hard at achieving that.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
Twitch disappeared this morning before I woke. I was hoping to tell him about our little peanut. Alas, today is not the day. I have no idea how he’ll react. It’s not like I did this deliberately. Spending all those nights over at his house, I really did forget
about the darn pesky pill. It sits on my nightstand, so I’m reminded to take it before I go to bed. Unfortunately, after spending a week at his place and only stopping home to check mail, it wasn’t on my mind. And now I’m in the early stages of my pregnancy. So early, that I need to talk to him about it so I can plan, come what may.
A stupid part of my brain wishes he’ll hear the news and vow to be a better man, starting that very minute. The realist part of my brain scoffs.
Not likely.
I’m prepared to do this alone though.
I won’t lie. Having a piece of Twitch inside of me…it feels nice.
Clutching the remote with a death grip, I can’t seem to look away as they accuse Michael of being everything he wasn’t. I want to stand and shout, “You didn’t know him!”
My blood boils.
I click to TV off and throw down the remote.
If there’s anything this situation has taught me it’s that life is short, and if you want something, you have to reach out with both hands and grip it tightly.
I smile to myself.
Good or bad mood, today is the day Twitch finds out I’m pregnant.
I hope for the best while expecting the worst.
Nikki and Dave sit before me, mouths gaping in stunned silence.
I wait patiently for their reactions while I sip at my green tea.
Dave is the first to break. “Pregnant, as in, you’re having a baby? Or pregnant, as in, you’re so full of emotions that you’re pregnant with them, and you could burst at any moment, showering the people of Sydney with a mixture of happy and sad?”
Nikki and I both turn to look at him wearing identical expression of confusion.
His shoulders slump. “Oh dear God. You’re pregnant with sexy demon spawn.”
I smile sadly. “Oh, be nice. He’s not that bad. He’s…” My mind wanders back to the other night. “He knows he needs help. He’s asking for help.”
Nikki reaches across the café table and rests her warm hand on mine. “I know you’re going to be the best momma ever. I just know it. And if Twitch is ready for that, then I’ll support you both one-hundred percent. I know you’d never do a thing to harm your child.”
She’s right. I wouldn’t.
Dave tuts, “Babe, I just don’t get how you let this happen. This was a dumbass thing to do. You barely know the guy.”
Nikki smacks him and I’m thankful for it. I don’t need to hear this right now.
Dave shrugs and mouths, “What?”
At seeing my defeated expression, he caves with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. But it could be better, right? And I know with losing Michael you’re on an emotional high right now. I just don’t want you to make any decisions on impaired judgement.” Shuffling his chair close to mine, he wraps an arm around me. I lean into him. “I love you. And whatever decision you make, I’ll be standing right by your side. Like you stood by me. And fought for me.”
And I love him again. The rat bastard.
Playing with my teacup, I avoid their eyes. “I wanted to tell you guys first. I don’t know how this is going to go, but I have faith. He hasn’t told me he loves me yet…” I look up at them both, determination in my eyes. I whisper, “…but I feel it. I know he loves me. It’s almost like he’s afraid to say it. As if it’ll mean he’s weak or something.”
Nikki nods. “Loving someone is a weakness, Lex. You’re handing your heart up on a silver platter for someone to use as they please. You have to have a lot of faith in that person to do that.” She sighs, “You haven’t told us anything about the drug dealing accusations being thrown around, and by you not telling us it’s preposterous, it’s a thing. A real deal kind of thing. So instead of lecturing you, I’ll say this. Someone like Twitch declaring his love for someone is totally a weakness.”
My heart stutters.
They know.
Nikki goes on. “You think on it. Someone who’s got issues with Twitch suddenly has issues with you. It doesn’t have to be personal.” My eyes widen. She’s right. She leans forward and whispers, “Someone who’s got issues with Twitch…” she pauses, “…has issues with your child.”
Nope. I did not think of that.
My heart races.
Dave remains tight-lipped but I can see he wants to say something. I ask, “You got something to add?”
He whooshes out in a rush, “Oh, thank you!” Clearing his throat, he utters, “If you’re serious about this guy, you got to be prepared for what comes with a man in his lifestyle.” He says everything I’m happily blocking out. “Drugs, misery, addiction, women.” He looks at me apologetically. “A man like Twitch doesn’t lock himself down to one woman, baby. I’m sorry, but they don’t.”
Tapping the edge of my teacup with my fingernail, I take in the sudden silence with thanks.
I have a lot to think about.
I stare hard at the photo in my shaking hand.
Rage coils low in my gut.
Michael’s limp body in Happy’s arms as Happy tries to escape the carnage that is the ambush.
Turning the photo over, I read.
Everyone you love will die.
Pressure builds in my head as I read the next sentence.
She’s next.
Blood roars in my ears.
As soon as I saw the handwriting, I knew who this came from.
A Persian with one eye just summoned himself a death wish.
Which leaves me with one choice.
It’s time for Lexi to hurt.
Standing before the gorgeous carved mahogany that is Twitch’s office doors, I hesitate to knock.
Swallowing hard, I turn my head to the left and spot Ling staring holes into my head.
God forbid the woman smile. I think her face would crack.
Turning to my right, I spot Happy sitting on the edge of a desk giving instructions to a male employee, his arm in a sling. He sees me and my heart stutters. His eyes meet mine and I see pain flash across his features. I know he feels responsible for what happened to Michael.
I’m not stupid. It wasn’t his fault. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to look at him. Alive and well.
My brows furrow.
What am I waiting for? I need to do this.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I enter without knocking. I steel myself for this encounter, mentally giving myself a pep-talk. Twitch loves me, whether he’ll admit it or not. I know it.
He’s it for me.
I’ll never love someone the way I love him. My love for him is almost desperate.
Approaching his desk, I smile. “Hey baby, can we talk?”
Without looking up at me, he answers on a sigh, “Seriously, Lexi, I can’t just drop everything when you need to chat. We’ll talk later. You’re at my place tonight, by the way.”
My nose bunches.
What happened to I’ll make it better and I’m sorry? This isn’t the man I left in my bed this morning. Something isn’t right.
Shifting from foot-to-foot, I ask, “O-okay. You sure you don’t have time for a quick word?”
He lets out a harsh breath and stands. Looking at me through cold eyes, he utters, “Pretty fucking sure, Alexa. I don’t have time for your shit today.”
And those words hit me like a slap to the face.
I hate myself when I feel the bridge of my nose start to tingle. I’m not a weak person. I’m going to find out what’s happening here.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
Walking around his desk, he says frustrated, “Nothing. Nothing at all. I mean it when I say I don’t have time. And you’re pushing the issue when there shouldn’t be one.”
I return, “Something’s not right. I can hear it in your voice. Something’s changed.” Piling up all my courage, I ask, “Are you breaking up with me?”
He smirks cruelly, “In order to break up with you, we’d need to be a thing.”
A small piece of my heart breaks off and falls
to the floor, shattering on impact.
Tears sting my eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought we—” Stepping back, I shrug.
Stopping directly in front of me, he booms, “Everything that’s wrong with my life is because of you!”
My body trembles in fear. My heart races.
I’m really very frightened right this second.
“What do you want to hear, Lexi?” He sneers, “That I fucking love you? That you mean…” Gritting his teeth, he pounds on his chest with a closed fist, “…everything to me?”
My head thumps softly. Through quivering lips, I whisper, “I just want to understand you.”
He barks a humorless laugh. “Good luck with that. I can’t even figure myself out.”
He starts pacing. His jaw tics. “You know what I can tell you about me? Honestly?”
Looking up at him through blurry eyes, I nod.
I’d kill to know anything about him.
Looking at me through a scowl, he hisses, “I am not a good guy. I can tell you that for sure.” My heart sinks. He adds, “Wanna know how I know?”
Holding back my sobs, I nod and as I do, and a tear falls down my cheek. He watches that tear closely and mutters, “You choose me, a lot more tears you’ll shed. I guarantee it.”
Lifting his arms, gesturing to everything around us, his office, he explains quietly, “All this, I did for you. And you didn’t even know me.”
Hope beams somewhere deep inside me. Twitch sees it and shakes his head. “This, what I’m telling you, is not good, Lexi. So listen up. I need you to know how fucked up I am. It’s time that you knew about me.”
Moving backwards to the front of his desk, he sits on it with a sigh, “Always knew I had to make something of myself, and I was no good at school, so I had to figure out another way.” His head falls forward a little. “That’s where the drugs came into it. So my plan was to work hard, earn a lot of money, and come back for you.”
I can’t help the stutter my heart gives out.
What he says next makes my chest cave in.