BLISS

by A. R. Breck

I promise I’ll never turn my back on you again.

  I promise I’ll never take another drug again.

  I promise to love you.

  “Mercy!” I hear from behind me, and I turn around, seeing a blitzed-out Aeron running towards me with worry on his face. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Where were you!” I scream at the top of my lungs, unable to keep my emotions in check. Not at this point.

  “I—”

  “I haven’t seen you all night. Where. Were. You!” I sob, so horribly traumatized from what just happened. I can’t believe this is happening right now.

  “Merc—” Aeron reaches me and freezes, looking down at the ground. His eyes widen, filling up his entire face as his skin pales.

  “No.” He whispers, dropping to his knees.

  He grabs onto Aric’s shoulders, hauling him over onto his back.

  When I see his face, I turn over and vomit again, sobbing as visions imprint in my memory. I’ll never forget this.

  I’ll never forget Aric like this.

  Slowly, I turn back around and watch as Aeron rocks back and forth, crying with his brothers head in his lap. Aric’s eyes are wide open but dead to the world. They stare at the ceiling, vacant and empty and full of nothingness.

  The nothingness that I’ve been trying to find for the past few weeks, and Aric ends up finding it in the worst possible way.

  In the middle of his forehead sits a bullet wound, a big hole that reveals a mess of skull and blood and—fuck. I can’t even look at it without gagging.

  “This is all my fault!” I cry into my hands. I want to die.

  I really want to die right now.

  “Shut the fuck up, Mercy! Don’t say that shit!” Aeron barks at me, his faced wet with tears.

  “He jumped on me! He died, trying to protect me.”

  Aeron stops rocking, looking up at me. He cocks his head to the side, like he’s looking at me for the first time.

  “He what? Are you serious?”

  I swallow. His voice is quiet, yet I was somehow still able to hear his empty tone.

  “Yes.”

  He blinks, his eyelids closing for the longest time. When he opens them, it’s like I’m a stranger.

  “Get out of here.” He says.

  “Wh-what?” I don’t know whether to cry or get angry. There’s no fucking way that I’m leaving Aric right now.

  No way.

  “I said go, Mercy!” He roars. “My brother died protecting you? You might as well held the fucking gun! Go! Get out of my face!” He yells, his face turning red in anger.

  As I turn around to go, the doors burst open and a flood of cops rush in with protective gear on. The rest of the people run for their lives, but the police officers catch a few of them.

  One of them yells, “Get on the ground!” I drop, curling into a ball between the vomit and blood, wishing so desperately that the bullet would have went inside of my skull instead of Aric’s.

  The officer comes behind me, shouting at nearby officers as he grabs my wrists with his hands, roughly yanking them behind me and pressing me into the floor. I groan with my face pressed to the grimy floor and watch as another officer pulls Aeron away from Aric. Aeron tries to swing at the cop, yelling and shouting at him about Aric. The officer doesn’t care, pulling his baton out and whipping him in his side.

  Aeron instantly goes down, yelling and groaning as he lays next to me. When he turns his head, we lock eyes. So many emotions fly through them, the most predominate being hate.

  He fucking hates me.

  Both officers come over to us and dig through our pockets. I’m glad that my little case filled with dust is back in the car. The officer searching me pulls out my phone, but I only pay attention as the other officer searches Aeron. I watch as he pulls out his phone, keys, and two baggies. One looks like it has pills inside and the other is most definitely cocaine.

  Shit, he’s fucked.

  The officer grunts, and when I feel metal clank on my hands, I quickly turn my head in shock. “What’re you doing? Stop! Please! I didn’t do anything!”

  He gives me a look with his eyebrows lifted. “You just being here is illegal, sweetheart. Also got a feeling that you’re a minor. By the smell of your breath, you’ve also been drinking. I’m taking you down to the police station.”

  “No! You can’t. M-my friend, Aric. H-he’s laying over there. He g-got shot and died!” I cry, tears springing to my eyes all over again when I think of Aric.

  What am I going to do? How is he going to get out of here?

  “Don’t fucking talk about my brother, Mercy.” Aeron spits, his wrists held in handcuffs. He doesn’t even flinch. I’m sure he’s had this done to him many times.

  I look at him in sadness. “I wish it was me.” I whisper, wincing when the officer pulls me to my feet.

  He curls his lip, glancing over at his brother then looking back to me. “Yeah, me too.” The officer shoves him forward, and my breath leaves me.

  My chest hurts, and it feels like he literally ripped out my heart with his words and tossed it on the ground. All that’s left in its place is a gaping chest cavity of cocaine and sorrow and death.

  Always death.

  ~

  “Where is she?” I hear a shout, and I look up from the dingy table.

  I’m a minor, so they couldn’t legally put me in the jail cell, but they did put me in one of those cool interrogation rooms which really aren’t as awesome as they seem. If anything, it’s a small room with a table and two chairs. I’ve been waiting here, alternating between crying and staring off into space.

  I can’t believe Aric’s dead.

  That’s all that keeps running through my mind. Aric died, he literally died, just to protect me. He didn’t want to even come to The Pit. Why the fuck did we come? I could have just stayed home and we could have spent the night giving each other the silent treatment. But I had to be a bitch. I just had to go and do what my heart wants. My heart wanted to follow Aeron like a floozy, and I ended up not only killing my best friend, but getting Aeron to hate me.

  Aeron really fucking hates me.

  I look up, wiping my wet face as Dave turns the corner. He’s in his suit like he just got off work, although it’s wrinkly as hell. Not only that, but his hair is a mess and his face is distraught.

  He looks terrible.

  “Mercy!” He sees me through the window.

  I stare at him, not sure what to do.

  Doesn’t he hate me? I killed his son.

  The officer unlocks the door, and Dave bursts past him, shoving him out of the way to get to me.

  “Oh my God. They called me and I just—” He chokes off, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a hard squeeze. “Aric…” He trails off, tears streaming down his face which only makes my own tears start again.

  I break down, tilting my head against his chest and sobbing. “I’m so sorry.”

  He rubs my back. “What are you sorry for?” He asks, sniffling through his words.

  “I-I killed him. I killed Aric.”

  Dave grabs onto my shoulders before I even finish my sentence, pushing me up and looking at me in the eyes. “No. Don’t you dare say that, Mercy. Don’t you dare say that.”

  “But, it’s my fault!” I cry, grabbing onto my suit coat and squeeze it tightly. “It’s all my fault.” I sag in defeat. I know it’s my fault.

  Aeron knows it’s my fault.

  There’s no reason why Dave shouldn’t think that it’s my fault, too.

  “No. Now listen here, Mercy. Were you holding the gun?” He looks me in the eye.

  “Well, no…”

  “Then it’s not your fault!” He shouts angrily.

  “But—"

  “No. No buts. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want to hear another word about it, okay?” He stands up straight and looks down at me.

  “Okay.” It’s not okay.

  Things will never be the same again.

&nbs
p; Death follows me around like the black plague. Like a fucking aroma that won’t go away. I can’t escape it.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go home.” He nods his head at me, but I don’t stand.

  “What about Aric?” My hands shake. I’m coming down and my emotions are going haywire.

  He swallows, once, twice, three times. “He’s already on his way back.”

  He means, someone’s driving him while he’s in the back, zipped in a bag and ready to be buried.

  My stomach turns.

  I nod my head. “What about Aeron?” Probably plotting my death somewhere.

  He shakes his head, an angry look crossing his face. “He won’t be around for a while.”

  Sadness hits me.

  I don’t want this to be my life. I want to go home with Aric and Aeron. I want the awkward tension in the car and I want my friend back.

  I want Aeron back, too.

  Now I have to go home to neither.

  ~

  “You want something to eat?” Dave asks as we enter the house.

  Finally, we’re home. Two hours of silence. I cried, and Dave cried. We both cried silently and wished for things that can never change. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. It feels like this last year shouldn’t even been real. I’ve lost so much in my life and my entire body feels like one big blob.

  It feels like I’m on the outside looking in on this train wreck of a life and I’m not sure how to walk away. I don’t know how to stop it. It’s like every turn I make, I’m stepping into worse decision after worse decision.

  “Mercy?”

  I look up at Dave. It feels like slow motion, like my body isn’t coordinated with my brain. He’s looking at me with sadness and grief and worry painted on his face.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  We stare at each other, both impossibly sad and broken. I want to go and comfort him, make him feel better somehow, someway. I don’t know how, though. I don’t know how to do anything, not when I’m more broken then I’ve ever been broken before.

  My mom is gone.

  My dad is gone.

  Aric is gone.

  Aeron is basically gone.

  Everyone is just… gone.

  “Mercy?” Dave asks, with a touch of urgency in his voice this time.

  “I don’t feel good. I’m going to bed.” What I really want to do is go shower. I’ve got blood dried on my clothes, which are the same ones I’m still wearing from the beach. I don’t even know what time it is. At least three in the morning. Who knows, honestly. I don’t have the energy to shower. All I want to do is go lay in bed forever. I just want this pain to go away.

  I don’t wait for Dave’s response, instead walking slowly up the stairs to my room.

  I know what I’m going to do before I even make it to my room, and I’m not shocked.

  Not in the slightest.

  It’s the only way to stop the pain.

  It’s the only way to stop the death the surrounds me.

  Dave will be better off without me.

  When I get to my room, I walk over to my bed and lay down. Rolling onto my side, I open up my nightstand and grab all the drugs I have.

  My bag of coke.

  My few pills of Zan.

  My bottle of ibuprofen.

  I spill the pills out on the nightstand, watching as they spin around in circles before settling into one messy pile.

  Do I really want to do this?

  No.

  Yes.

  I don’t fucking know.

  I don’t know anything. I just know this heaviness in my chest since I walked out of The Pit is like something latched onto me and it’s only getting worse.

  The pain is only getting worse. I don’t think it’ll stop.

  I really need it to stop.

  Grabbing my old bottle of water sitting on my nightstand, I uncap it before I can think any further and palm the pills, tossing all of them into my mouth and swallowing them down. I chug my water, gagging through the feeling of the pills trying to make their way down my throat. Once they’re down, I set the water on my nightstand so hard water spills over, spilling onto my palm.

  Nerves reach me. Uneasiness and second guessing fill me.

  It’s too late.

  I spill out my entire bag of coke on a book that’s sitting on my nightstand, and with shaky fingers I line it into one overly large line.

  Shit, this is a lot.

  With a certain finality, I bring my nose down and snort it in one go, squeezing my eyes shut and dropping the book when the biggest head rush of my life overtakes me.

  “Ah.” I grab my head, squeezing my skull as my sinuses burn and my head quakes. “Fuck.”

  “Mercy?” I freeze, barely able to open my eyes. But I do, and looking at Dave with the most disappointed look on his face is the answer that I needed.

  He’ll be better off without me.

  I open my mouth, ready to give him some kind of reassurance, but I can’t. My tongue feels about a million times too big.

  Why can’t I speak?

  Then everything goes blank.

  23

  Dave

  Something’s not right.

  I watch Mercy walk up the stairs with her shoulders slumped. She looks utterly defeated. I know the feeling. I understand the emptiness that sits in her chest. I have the same feeling in mine. I wonder what my wife would think right now, knowing that I allowed my family to get this messed up. That it’s at the point where one of my children is in jail—again—and that my other son is dead.

  My body jolts in pain.

  Memories of walking into the hospital and having to identify his body come to mind. There’s been too much death in the last few years. Aric shouldn’t have died. He was too got of a person to become victim to any kind of violence. He didn’t deserve to die.

  When they brought me into that room in the basement of the hospital, I already knew. I could feel my son’s spirit in that room with me, and I almost broke down and fell to my knees. The pain was crippling.

  The coroner zipped down the body bag and revealed my son. I broke down, curling over the metal bed he lay on and clutching him in my grasp. His body was cold. I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of any reason I would ever want to leave this room. This is where my son lay. My son, who has been by my side since the moment my wife passed.

  He wasn’t a normal son. He was spectacular.

  I don’t know how I can possibly go on without him. I don’t even know if I want to.

  My mind snaps out of the memory as Mercy turns the corner. There’s something about her that makes alarm bells go off inside me. It’s like there was an air of acceptance around her. And that worries me.

  The fear only increases as moments pass. I set my keys down on the front table and toe off my shoes. I need to go check on her. I need to be there for Mercy. Shawn needs me to be there for Mercy.

  Walking up the stairs, I quicken my pace as I near the top. Walking down the hall, I stop in my tracks at the sight in front of me.

  Mercy sits hunched over a book, snorting up a white line like a professional.

  What the hell am I seeing?

  She drops the book in her lap and clutches onto her head like she’s in an immense amount of pain. Why would anyone do this to themselves?

  “Mercy?” I ask, stunned.

  She freezes. Lifting her gaze, her body is slow to follow. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I had no idea Mercy has been using. How could I not know?

  From the looks of things, this isn’t her first rodeo, either.

  She opens her mouth, ready to speak to me when her eyebrows furrow. Her mouth moves in slow motion, like her brain isn’t connecting with her motor functions.

  My eyes go wide when her nose starts bleeding.

  Then suddenly, her body locks up, her eyes roll in the back of her head, and tremors break out along her body.

  She’s convulsing.

  “Mercy!” I scream, watching a
s she slams her head forward into the corner of her nightstand. “No!” I rush over to her, lifting her off her nightstand and seeing a huge gash in her forehead, gushing blood down the side of her face.

  I tip her on her side and hold her arms down. I’ve never seen someone have a seizure before. Is she going to choke on her tongue?

  My hands get covered in blood and I watch on, completely horrified as her seizing gets worse. It’s nearly impossible for me to keep hold of her without hurting her myself.

  “Mercy!” I give her a small shake, and when that does nothing, I realize I need to act fast. I pin her down with my leg and reach for my phone in my pocket.

  Dialing 911, I wait for the operator to pick up.

  “Hello! My, uh, my daughter is having a seizure. I need an ambulance, right away!” I rattle off my address and hang up the phone, tossing it on the bed.

  “Come on!” I bark in her face.

  Finally, Mercy stops.

  “Mercy!” I yell, pulling her face over to mine. “Mercy!” I yell again.

  Mercy lies limp on the bed, her eyes finally closed. I feel for her pulse and can feel it beating a million miles a minute.

  “How long has this been going on, Mercy?” I ask, brushing her hair out of her face.

  Shit. Could anything else go wrong? Honestly?

  “Why did you do this?” I whisper.

  I know why she was doing this. She was doing what I’ve thought about a million times since my wife died. Some days have been so painful, I’ve barely been able to get out of the bed in the morning. Depression is a real thing, and death amplifies the pain tenfold.

  Mercy took that pain away.

  She’s been a light in this house. Something that we’ve needed for a long time.

  It pains me to know she’s been going through this in silence. I never would have allowed it to get this far if I’d have known.

  Watching her forehead continue to bleed, I bend down and grab a shirt laying on the floor and press it to her forehead. Sitting down on the edge of her mattress, I stare at her and wait.

  Fuck.

  Glancing around, I see two empty baggies laying on her nightstand, right next to an empty ibuprophen bottle.

  Tears fill up my eyes, and before I know it, I'm crying.

  I need Mercy.

  I miss my wife. She would know what to do.