by Lizzie Fox
Goddammit.
I bent over the sink again, splashing more water on my face, coming upward just for a breath of air before I drowned myself—and wouldn’t that be a shame? I scratched my fingers down my face, looking at my appearance with disgust.
Not my appearance. His.
No matter what I did—tattoos, piercings, eyeliner, makeup—I still saw him when I looked in the mirror.
I still saw the face of the most horrible person ever whenever I looked at myself.
Without realizing it, skin crawling, feeling tense and unbalanced, I raised my hand to punch out the face of the person who terrified everyone. Who terrified me.
The person I didn’t have the guts to do it to before.
With a blood curdling yell, I slammed my fist with all the force, rage, and anger I had in me, straight into the mirror, feeling the shards scrape and claw at my skin.
And like when I would cut before, the pain and adrenaline would be a rush; it would be enough to wake me up from whatever hell I was putting myself through this time.
The rage quickly turned to shame, as I noticed the broken shards all over the sink, the floor. I no longer saw my shameful appearance, but I did see the blood that quickly spurted from the large gash I now had over my knuckles.
“Oh fuck…” Shaking, trembling, I took a step back. And another. And another until I hit the door. What did I do?
“Seth? Seth!”
I suddenly remembered and could hear Jessie was at the other side of the door. She pounded and kicked, hollered and screamed my name over and over again. I felt the wall shake around me, and I knew she was probably trying to slam into it with her body weight to open it.
Shaking, I held out a bloody hand, gingerly grabbing the door handle, but the pain was too great, I winced as I tried to grip it, crying out. Fuck I was an idiot. “Jess?” I asked, in a trembling voice. “I can’t open the door.”
“Seth? Just wait… hold on…” I heard footsteps as she walked away. Did she leave? I had to get out of here.
I couldn’t even think correctly.
With my other hand, even though I trembled and felt weak and sick, I managed to turn the knob, just enough to unlatch the lock, and push it open.
Jessie stood before me, and looked me over from head to toe, her eyes regarding me taking me in. Looking at me with sha— no, not shame. Concern.
“Your hand!” Without even a split second’s hesitation, she gripped my hand between hers, and pulled me into the kitchen, my blood getting all over her hands and dripping a trail of shame over the tile. “Baby…damn…”
“Your… mirror…I…” I stammered, as she held my hand over the sink, and grabbed the nearest towel, wrapping it tightly around my hand.
“I don’t give a shit about the mirror Seth. I only care about you,” she replied sternly. She regarded me with… a warm concern and a small smile before she turned back to my hand. “I’m not sure if this is going to need stitches. But we should get it looked at just in case.”
“We—no.” I knew what that’d mean. They’d know I’d snapped, it was all over my record and they’d try to hospitalize me again. And then I’d really fuck everything up. I hung my head in shame, I couldn’t even look at her.
I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve her.
“Hey.” Her hand slid over my jaw, her fingers gently grazing my cheek. I dared to sweep my gaze up. “We won’t tell them anything. I’ll tell them…” she thought momentarily. “I’ll tell them we got locked out, and you had to break the window to get in the door. Okay? They… they won’t know.”
They won’t know you freaked out… those were the unsaid words that hung in the air.
“Okay?” Her fingers were a bit more intently pushing on my chin, urging me to look at her.
“Okay.” I replied, in a small voice. I did look up at her, my blood was smeared now all over her hands, up her arm, and over the t-shirt she wore. I snorted gently to myself; at least it was one of mine, and not hers. I didn’t want to ruin anything else of hers.
“Hang tight. I’m going to get something to wrap this up. And get you a shirt. Okay?” I nodded slowly, and she brushed her fingers over my chin again. I so wanted to just sink into her and let everything out. How I felt, shit about my dad…all of it.
But I couldn’t take that shame.
Reluctantly she walked away, and I heard her footsteps up the stairs and I knew she was probably heading for the linen cabinet in the bathroom.
Shame.
I couldn’t take it. I could not.
I needed to get out of here. I was going to break—and I didn’t want her to see it. She’d already seen some, but it got so much worse.
I grabbed her. I didn’t mean to, but I saw her fear.
Then I saw the fear in those eyes—his eyes. My eyes.
Shit.
And the feeling of being suffocated was back. My eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but only landing on all the blood in the sink, and over the floor…and my clothes even.
What am I doing here?
Run, you stupid bastard…before you fuck up her life like you fucked up your mothers. Your sisters.
Just run.
Before I really realized what I was doing, I tightened the towel around my hand, using my teeth to pull it around and fasten it tighter. It’d do, for now.
Now run.
I grabbed my keys in the bowl on the stand by the door, slipped my feet in my boots, not bothering to tie them and I quickly opened and shut the door, heading for my bike.
I climbed over it, started it and hit the throttle, kicking up the kickstand with my feet, and backed out of the driveway.
Jessie appeared in the doorway, just as I hit the gas and sped off like a bat out of hell down the street, the sound of the engine roaring like a scream, and blocking out my thoughts. Irrational or otherwise.
This is what I needed. To run. To feel free. To get away before I messed her up too. I didn’t know where I was going but I just knew I had to go.
37
Jessalie
Before he disappeared into the bathroom I saw the torment on his face, in his eyes.
I banged on the door repeatedly, hearing him cry out and sob—he was sobbing, and I don’t think he realized it—when he was in there, trying to get away from me. I didn’t think it was just me, though… it was something else.
I heard him yell before there was a crash and I now knew he’d slammed his hand through the mirror, “Stop looking at me, Dad!”
That’s when I understood.
The tattoos, the piercings…even the makeup. It was all a ploy, trying to change his appearance so he didn’t resemble his father.
He said they looked alike and just from the five-minute confrontation I had with him, I could see they did. But… not.
Jeff Palladino, Seth’s worthless father had soulless eyes and a blank face. His expressions were snide and slippery and instantly made me want to crawl out of my skin. That was probably how Seth felt, too.
But Seth was so much more. There was a light in his eyes. He was caring and kind, and it showed in all of his mannerisms, all his expressions. He was gentle and loyal and wore all of his emotions on his sleeve, both literally and metaphorically.
“Get out. Or I will kill you. I should have done it all those years ago. But I will not let you hurt me, or anyone else I love ever again.”
I should have done it all those years ago?
I will not let you hurt anyone I love ever again. Love?
What was going on with him?
I couldn’t get into the bathroom to find out, but when his voice finally broke, telling me he couldn’t get the door open, I about lost it myself.
That was what I was missing with Blake: him pleading for help. He was lost, dark inside, and not able to find a way out.
But Seth was trying to find his way out of the dark maze of his mind, with ghosts and shadows around every twist and turn trying to distract him, point him in the
wrong directions… I knew this wasn’t over. At least I got him to come out of the bathroom. And he did, looking shameful, and covered with blood.
But he was still here, and that was huge. That was… everything.
I was still covered with his blood from his hand when I slipped upstairs to get the first aid kit to wrap up his hand until we could get to the ER, but just as I was about halfway down the stairs, I heard the front door slam shut, and Seth was gone.
When I made it to the door I saw him on his bike, boots still untied, towel wrapped around his hand, still shirtless as he sped off down the street.
He was going to get himself killed.
Goddammit.
“Blake! Oh my god, Blake! Blake! No!”
But he was already gone, long gone, slumped in a pool of his own blood that had already began to congeal.
He was gone. I was too late.
Tears stung in my eyes and fell rapidly, thinking of the time I was too late. I will never, ever forget the sight of finding him in our little downstairs apartment in his own blood. Thirteen years ago, I was too late.
But maybe I wasn’t too late to get to Seth.
“Not again… not going to happen again…” I grabbed my flip flops and my keys and purse and hurried out to the Challenger. I tossed the shoes on the seat next to me, started the car and just as the engine roared to life I peeled out of the driveway, down the road, and after Seth.
I hit the call button on the dash, and prayed my cell was in my purse. “Call Shane!” I barked the order to it, and thankfully the call dialed.
“Jessie? Girl what’s—”
“If Seth was having a meltdown, driving on his bike where would he go?” I cut him off, not even letting a greeting in.
“Oh fuck. Is he—”
“—just tell me Shane!”
“Umm…fuck. Anthony. Seth’s having a meltdown, he’s on the bike!”
“Fuck. Jess, where are you we’ll—” Anthony’s voice sounded on the line but I grumbled loudly.
“Guys I’m already on the road. Just tell me before he gets too far ahead. He’s… fucked up right now. Please!”
“Highway 30. It’s open and not a lot of cops, but there’s lots of potholes,” Anthony said quickly.
“Thank you!” I almost disconnected when Shane spoke.
“Be careful, there are storms rolling in. I hope you find him before they get here, they’re looking quite bad.”
“Fuck. Shit! Just what I need!” I pressed on the gas a bit harder, as hard as I dared while driving through town. Independence Point was usually crawling with bored police and state troopers. Getting pulled over or running from the law was the last thing I needed—and I would run, or rather I’d drive to the ends of the Earth and sit in jail the rest of my life if it meant getting to him in time.
“We’re coming too. I’m pretty sure he’ll go there, but—”
“I got it. The Challenger is fast. I’ll get him.” I disconnected the call, needing to concentrate.
Anxiously I waited at the stoplight so I could turn left, and hit the highway. I prayed Anthony and Shane were right and that’s where he was heading. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, silently urging the red light to change. The second it did I peeled into my turn, wheels squealing as I entered the open highway.
I slammed on the gas; he probably had a five-minute head start, but with my V-8 I could easily catch up to him if this was in fact the road he came down.
Over the horizon, dark storm clouds churned and roiled in the distance, and I knew I didn’t have a ton of time. The storm would not help things at all. He would either get caught in the storm and not be able to see, and crash… or freak out at the storm, panic, and crash. Either way it was bad, bad, bad.
“Let’s go, baby…” I muttered with determination to the car, pushing my bare foot on the gas even harder, urging the engine past seventy…seventy-five…eighty… “Come on, Seth…be here… please be here…”
I rolled up a steep hill and the second I drove over the top in the distance about a mile away I could see the shirtless silhouette of a jet-haired man on a green bike, roaring down the highway.
“Got you…” I knew his bike was fast, but my car was definitely evenly matched. I slammed on the gas even harder, flooring it to ninety…ninety-five…and I began to close the distance between us and finally, after an agonizing minute or so I had him in my direct view.
I gasped, as he seemed to make a quick swerve, avoiding a pothole. When he did this he glanced in his mirror and he must have seen me—or the Challenger, I’m not sure how coherent he was, or realized it was me. I flashed my lights at him, hoping he’d get the hint: Pull the fuck over.
Instead he tossed me a look over his shoulder, and instead of slowing down, he sped the fuck up.
Son of a bitch…
With a sudden burst of speed he darted ahead of me, putting about a half mile between us. I wasted no time laying on the gas, the adrenaline coursing and pumping through my veins, heart thumping in my ears. I clutched the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Lightning sprawled out over the clouds above, and I heard the gentle rumble of thunder—which was probably a lot louder than it sounded since it was heard over two roaring, noisy engines.
“Come on Seth…give it up…” And don’t crash while doing so.
I closed the distance between us again and he could either see me in his mirrors or felt the vibration of the car. He glanced over his shoulder quickly, and his eyes seemed to narrow. Then he waved over his shoulder. Not a “hello” wave, but more of a “go away” wave, before he hit another burst of speed.
“Dammit Seth!” I slammed one of my hands on the wheel. “Oh shit…” My heart nearly stopped.
We came across an intersection, and there was a string of vehicles either turning onto the highway or crossing. A lump rose in my throat, that I had to gag back before I lost my lunch, worried about what would happen. Hopefully everyone would see or hear these bright green vehicles barreling down the road and keep distant.
I glanced down at the speedometer just as we went over the 110 mph mark. I sucked my lower lip under my teeth and bit down hard, hard enough to draw blood.
One of the vehicles pulled out and began heading down the highway, in the same direction we were headed, and I cringed. Seth wasn’t seeming to lay off the gas.
“Shit…shit shit…come on slow down…” I mumbled to myself, breathing a relieved sigh when he finally slowed down before he slammed into the white sedan’s bumper. But my relief was short-lived, when he veered left quickly, trying to see if anyone was coming in the oncoming lane. “Don’t do it… don’t do it…” We were slowing down past eighty…seventy-five… but just before hitting that point, Seth took a sharp lane change into the left, slammed on the gas again and gunned ahead, attempting to pass the car.
Damn you!
I laid on the gas again and veered with a squeal of the tires into the next lane, following Seth around the car. We hit the eighty mark again easily…then ninety before we were passed, and he veered back into the other lane and there didn’t seem to be anyone else for miles ahead. Which was both good and bad because there was no one to slow us down, but…there was no one to slow us down.
Seth sped again, his bike screaming loudly as a flash of lightning lit up the darkening sky. I knew it was only late morning, but it was beginning to look more like early evening.
He glanced over his shoulder again, and seemed to be cursing. I grinned with self-satisfaction. Yeah, that’s right… I’ll match your so-called crazy with some of my own. “Bet’cha didn’t think I’d have the guts to follow you, huh?”
He shot forward again and I followed suit, with another press to the gas pedal. I cried out in fear as we neared a sharp curve, and Seth wasn’t seeming to slow down. We were well passed 100 now, nearing 115. I cringed again when he took the curve, only slowing down a little. He nearly seemed to be sideways, perpendicular to the road and I braced myself for a wipe ou
t.
Thankfully, he safely made the curve. I released my breath and we were on straight road once again… for a while.
I didn’t know how far we had gone; at least ten miles, driving into the storm. The clouds overhead hung lower, and darker, and fat splats of rain started pelting my windshield. I knew they had to be hitting him, too. I was hoping as the cold rain began to pelt on his skin that he’d slow down finally instead of slide on a puddle and skid out.
My phone began to ring and I growled out loud, but quickly answered when I heard it was Shane.
“Yes, I see him but can’t talk because I’m stalking his ass.”
“I hear the engines—fuck, girl, don’t kill yourself!” Shane insisted, sounding terrified.
I snorted derisively. “If Seth is going to insist on killing himself by being an idiot, he’s forcing me to do the same.”
“Jess—”
“—enough!” I yelled, gunning the car a bit faster, just as the sky began to open up, and thunder started to roll. “Better get someone with a trailer because you’re either gonna be carting his bike home, or peeling our corpses off the ground.”
“Fuck. Where are you?”
“Highway 30. Just hit the 85 mile marker sign.” I hung up, needing to concentrate.
At least someone would know where we were when we crashed and burned. Literally.
“Come on, Seth. Back off…just back the fuck off. You don’t want to do this… please!” I pleaded out loud, to nowhere in particular. I felt the tears stab at my eyes like knives but I willed them away.
An image of Blake on his bike flashed through my mind out of nowhere, and it only served to make me angry. “Dammit, Blake—if you are out there, and any of this is your doing—do something! Help me!” Of course I didn’t think it’d do any good, but yelling at someone felt good. Just yelling at all felt good.
The rain began to come down a bit steadier. It was still light but definitely increasing. Thunder ahead rumbled loudly, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to startle Seth. He seemed to jump a little, then hit another surge of speed… and I followed again with my own burst. What was I going to do? I could either blast ahead of him and cut him off…but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t spin back around the other way, or just wait for him to crash. Or stop and let him go.