Falling Through Darkness

by Kira Berger

  I roll my eyes heavenward. Of course, something has held him up. I’m sure his “called in to work” excuse was more of an “I’m too lazy to do what I promised to do, or too busy getting laid” one.

  “Stop being such a cynic, Alex. Not everyone is going to let you down, lie to you, or fuck you over.”

  I hate it that he can still read me this easily. He always seems to know what I’m thinking—well mostly.

  I snort before I answer. “Fine, let’s give the guy the benefit of the doubt and pretend we believe he had to go to work on a Friday before a long weekend when most of America takes the day off to go camping or something.”

  “Alex.” He says my name in that tone, you know the one, the one your parents use when they are disappointed in you. “I really hope one day soon someone will crash into your life and prove you wrong. Turn your world upside down and make you rethink your perspective on life.”

  When I open my mouth to protest, give him the old that will never happen, he holds up his hand to silence me.

  “Don’t even start with me. Brendan is a cop, honey. From what I understood when I met him briefly, he is on call all weekend. So, no, he most definitely wasn’t lying. And before you go off on one of your tangents again, he was wearing his uniform. So yes, I’m certain he was telling the truth.”

  I look away contrite. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. You’re lucky you being a bitch is kinda cute.” He smirks like a loon while turning toward the front door.

  I on the other hand gasp in outrage. “My bitch is not cute. Take it back!” I yell at his back. “She is fierce and terrifying, not fucking cute.”

  But instead of reacting, all he does is open the door and walk toward the elevator, knowing I have no choice but to follow or be stuck outside.

  Stomping, I follow him into the elevator and watch him press the button to the fifth floor.

  After noting my questioning glance, he tells me, “Brendan told me what floor your apartment is on. C’mon.”

  We step out of the car and I follow Tom to the left and down the hall. We pass beige door after beige door until we stop in front of a red one.

  Huh. How fitting.

  I watch Tom insert the key and unlock the door. It swings open, revealing a spacious living room. Taking a step inside, I look around and am pleasantly surprised by what I see. I would have expected the interior to be dark and masculine since I’m renting this place from a guy. Instead, it’s the opposite, and I wonder if he refurnished the place just for me.

  The couch is cream colored and plush-looking with wide seats and a lot of pillows. A dark blue blanket is draped over one armrest. And all of it is facing a huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

  Nice.

  There is even a gray armchair sitting in the corner, facing the window. Perfect to sit on in the mornings and drink my coffee.

  Or read.

  Or just watch the sun set or rise—reflecting on life. I have to snort at this thought. Who am I kidding, reflecting on life? I’m too busy running from it to give it more thought than I have to.

  Straight across from me is an open-plan kitchen with a generous breakfast nook. This explains why there is no table. The kitchen itself is stainless steel everything from the looks of it, with some weird looking gadgets I probably will never figure out how to use. Not that it matters since I don’t cook. Well, besides frying bacon and eggs, or pancakes, or I make some mean homemade granola with yogurt.

  Well, I guess I don’t cook anything but breakfast food.

  Thank God there’s a coffee machine. Sure, it’s just a basic filter coffee one, but coffee is coffee. And considering I see a package of ground beans sitting next to it, I don’t care as long as I can get my cup of coffee in the morning.

  I move toward the hall I presume leads to the bedroom and bathroom; hearing Tom close the door behind him and lock it.

  Once I reach the entry of the hall, I see a short passage with two doors on each side and one in front. I open the one in front of me first and find a hall closet full of cleaning supplies.

  This leaves the bathroom and bedroom. I open the door to the right to find a spacious bathroom with a big tub and separate shower.

  Holy shit. This place is gorgeous.

  Considering the price, I start to wonder if there is something wrong with it. Maybe it’s haunted.

  The last door opens to a bedroom and air leaves my lungs in a rush.

  Holy shit. Is this place for real?

  Stepping inside, I notice one wall looks like exposed brick similar to the old red brick you see all around London. In front of said wall is a king-sized bed with a gray comforter, turquoise pillows, and white sheets peeking out from underneath.

  Across the bed, a window stretches the length of the wall. It isn’t a floor to ceiling one though, more like a ceiling to about the middle. Underneath is a white dresser. Perfect to put my jewelry on top.

  In front of where I’m standing are two empty bookshelves to be filled. While most of my belongings are downstairs in the car, there is one thing I took the time to ship here—my books. I can’t wait for them to arrive so that I can fill the shelves and have at least one part of home around me.

  Taking one last look around this room, I return to the living room to find Tom looking around the kitchen.

  “I can go grab my bags by myself if you want to keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

  “Ah, no, I’ll come help. Your bags looked heavy.”

  “Not too heavy for an old man like you?” I tease.

  “Let me show you what this old man can do, girl.”

  ***

  After we grabbed my bags from the car, Tom left me to unpack, saying he had to pick up Luna from the train station. Even though I wish they hadn’t gone out of their way for me, again, I’m grateful they’re here. Just like years ago, they’re taking care of me, making sure I’m not too lonely after moving to a new place. I’m not nineteen anymore though; I don’t need to surround myself with people to hold the loneliness and homesickness at bay. I’m fine being on my own. It’s safer.

  But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the thought. And I’m excited to have them here. It’s been three years since they came to Europe for my graduation.

  I’m in the process of putting away everything when I hear a knock before keys turn in the lock and the door opens. For a split second I freeze, terrified that the nightmares I only ever face at night are invading my reality.

  “Alex! Get out here and let me hug you!” I hear a female voice shout through the apartment.

  Luna… Thank God.

  Relaxing, I drop the dress I’m holding and run to the living room.

  Standing there in my new luxurious apartment is a tall, lithe woman dressed in a colorful dress and… barefoot.

  “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” I tell her while running to her, waiting for her arms to engulf me in a hug.

  “Never.” She’s squeezing me tight. “I like who I am too much, and so does this old man,” she says, pointing at Tom.

  Looking at the ceiling, Tom laments, “What is it with you two? I’m not that old.”

  “Of course not, honey.” She pats his arm like you would the head of a toddler, causing me to let her go and burst out laughing.

  “You two… It’s a good thing I love you.” On a huff he keeps going. “I brought food, so you better start behaving and be nice to me, or I just might eat it all by myself.”

  My stomach chooses that moment to make its presence known. “I’m starved.”

  With this, we all move toward the kitchen. Tom’s unpacking the food on the counter, while Luna and I search the cupboard for silverware.

  “Oh, and we brought a couple bottles of Riesling. Your favorite,” Tom says, holding up two bottles of white wine.

  “You’re the best!” I can feel a smile curve my lips. These two sure know me. And it’s a nice feeling, one I haven’t had in a while. To be around people who know you, who have been w
ith you through thick and thin. Who support you in whatever you do, and even if you failed, they never left your side even from across the world. I forgot how much I missed having people like this surround me.

  “We know, girl.” He winks at me.

  We catch up over dinner, well, mostly they catch me up on their lives and what has been going on. About their travels. Their teaching.

  By the time we’re done and relaxing around the table with the wine, I’ve successfully avoided talking about myself. I’m relaxed due to the company of old friends and alcohol, which means my guard is down. Big mistake.

  Tom and Luna share a glance, one I can’t read but I have a feeling does not bode well for me. Reaching across the table, Luna grabs my hand and holds on. “Honey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you can’t just bury the hurt and think it will go away. You need to speak about the accident—”

  I rip my hand away from her rather violently. “For fuck’s sake, I told you I don’t want to talk about it. Why is this so hard to understand?”

  Needing space, I get up with my glass and move toward the sink. I stare at the wine and notice my hand is shaking. I drain the nearly full glass before I brace my hands on the gray marble countertop. Vaguely, I hear them get up, but not move any closer than a few steps. Still keeping a safe distance like you would with a terrified animal backed into a corner.

  “Alex.” Luna’s voice is quiet and soothing, meant to calm me. Which is when I realize not only is my whole body shaking, but I’m also breathing like I’ve just run a marathon.

  I can’t get my body under control while trying to put the memories back where they belong. I can’t go back there again. I can’t—

  “Sweetie, I know it’s hard. You know I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. The devastation, the pain, the grief. But you need to let it out. You can’t bury your feelings. You need to deal with this before you explode. Please, Alex, listen to m—”

  “Stop it,” I shout. “For heaven’s sake, just leave it be!”

  I can hear her gasp at my sharp tone. I know I’m hurting her, but I can’t help it. I need them to understand I cannot talk about what happened.

  Never.

  “Fine.” Her voice is still soft. “We’ll let it go. For now.” Suddenly, her arms wrap around me from behind, holding tight. Letting go of the counter, I lean into her and grab ahold of her arms, my body still trembling.

  I haven’t realized I’m crying until she whispers, “I’ve got you. Let it out; we’re here.”

  This is when Tom moves toward us and hugs us both. “We won’t bring it up again, girl. But know we’re here for you. No matter what. Okay?”

  In a broken voice I reply, “I know.”

  Chapter Three

  I wake up Saturday morning refreshed and with a purpose—having not had a nightmare for the first time in months definitely helped. Pushing back the covers, I proceed to follow my morning routine of coffee, shower, and getting dressed before getting a second cup of coffee.

  I end up sitting in my comfortable armchair and stare out the window, watching the sun bathe the trees in light. My mind is blank, and I enjoy the silence for the first time in a long while.

  At eleven a.m. sharp, Tom rings the doorbell to take me car shopping. I was afraid after my little meltdown last night it would be weird, but Tom is his normal self. And true to their word, he doesn’t bring up the past, for which I am grateful.

  Finding a car which fits my needs—I want something fuel efficient and reasonably priced—doesn’t take too long. And an hour later, I’m the proud new owner of a Prius.

  Even though this was taken care of fairly fast, by the time all was said and done we had to make our way to Luna’s family’s place for the BBQ. I wasn’t sure if I was looking forward to it or not, I’m not always all that graceful in crowds, preferring to observe from the sidelines. Thankfully, her family is welcoming, friendly, and funnily obnoxious. The party is packed with people, not just family but from what I gathered also neighbors and acquaintances, but I couldn’t help but feel at ease and be able to enjoy myself.

  That is until I’m forcefully reminded of my past and it all comes crashing down around me.

  “So, Alex, what did your family say when you moved across the pond so far away from them? I bet they weren’t too happy,” Luna’s cousin, Sam, asks me with a smile on her face. I could see she was genuinely interested.

  Such an innocent question.

  The small flicker of joy I felt for the first time in a while vanished—extinguished by the dark tendrils of my past whose hold might not always be suffocating, but who also won’t let me go, reminding me I do not deserve happiness for myself. And suddenly, I’m falling through the darkness I’d hoped I left behind.

  “They didn’t say anything.” I swallow past the lump in my throat trying to choke me. “They died some months back.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Sam whispers horrified. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea…”

  Clearing my throat, I tell her, “No worries. How could you know? If you’ll excuse me.” And I make my escape, quickly moving through the partygoers on my way to the bathroom I saw inside the house.

  Closing the door behind me, I lean against it. I breathe deeply, trying to get myself under control. But memories invade from the fringes, flitting across my mind.

  Smoke, fire, twisted metal beyond recognition. And blood, so much blood.

  Images slay my skin until there is nothing left, until I’m stripped and left bare. Emotions are crashing through my body, assaulting me—grief, devastation, shame, guilt—bringing me to my knees. I slide down the door until my ass is planted on the floor. I hug my knees to my chest, breathing deep, while trying to push the gruesome images haunting my nights to the back of my mind.

  After what feels like an eternity, but has more likely only been a few minutes, I’m able to get control over my mind and can calm my heartbeat. Once I stop feeling like my heart is about to jump out of my chest, I push to my feet and move to the sink.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I’m shocked to realize I’m crying for the second time in two days. Shit, I haven’t even noticed I’m shaking with sobs, making quiet noises in the back of my throat. I’m swallowing the next cry trying to escape. I need to get ahold of myself.

  I grab some tissues I notice sitting in a box on the sink and try to clean my face as best as I can, but to no avail. There goes the little makeup I had on to begin with.

  I look at myself in the mirror; my dark brown hair reaches the middle of my back in soft waves. I haven’t done much to it today except to let it air dry. I couldn’t be bothered to do more. My green eyes seem too big in my face, and where I used to see a spark in their depths, all I can see now is despair, sadness, shame, guilt…

  I turn away in frustration. What’s the point lamenting a past I can’t change?

  Giving up on the tissues, I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water. It helps with the tears, not so much with my mascara, which is now mostly underneath my eyes instead of on my eyelashes.

  Nice. I look like a raccoon.

  I try to get rid of it with the tissues, which doesn’t help at all. So, I open the cabinet to search for some makeup remover but find nothing.

  Sighing, I go back to trying to clean up my face with water and tissues. Not that it does all that much.

  Fuck.

  At least this gives me a great excuse to leave early without feeling bad about it. I’ll just fake a headache or something.

  With this plan in place, I give up on my face. Time to get out of here.

  I move through the door, my eyes on the floor, when I’m suddenly knocked to the side and drenched in liquid.

  Bloody hell.

  “Shit, I’m so sorry.” I hear a deep voice next to me. “Are you okay?” A hand is grasping my arm, I guess to try and steady my stance, yet I can’t help but flinch out of its hold.

  Moving farther away, still looking at the floor, I mutter
, “I’m fine, fucking peachy.” I cringe at the sarcasm I can’t help but spew. I might feel bad about being a bitch, but I can’t help it sometimes. It’s a reflex more than anything nowadays.

  “Look, I’m sorry; I didn’t see you there. Seriously, are you okay though? I didn’t mean to knock you into the wall.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to rein in the bitch. It’s not his fault I’m in a shit mood, have been for four months now. Even though I’d love nothing more than to use someone as a punching bag right now, figuratively speaking, it’s not exactly fair to the poor guy.

  Looking at him in order to reassure him I’m fine, my words get stuck in my throat. Until the most asinine comment flies out of my mouth without my permission. “I’m such a fucking cliché.”

  “I’m sorry?” the most handsome man I’ve ever seen asks me with confusion written all over his face. I’m not kidding, he’s so gorgeous I seem to have lost the ability to speak.

  I stare at the guy, who’s smiling at me like he can’t decide whether I’m nuts or adorable, for a full minute.

  His eyes ensnare me—a blue so deep and clear, I can’t help but drown in what looks like an ocean from some exotic place, like New Zealand. I’ve never seen a blue like this before, except in pictures I always figured were photoshopped. No man should be allowed to have eyes like this; they’re too dangerous to the female population. And I have no doubt he knows it, too.

  The rest of his face is just as stunning. Blond hair that’s shorter on the sides and longer up top, styled into one of those trendy styles reminiscent of James Dean. A chiseled jawline—no other way to describe this one—and a nose that’s slightly crooked complete the look.

  Letting my gaze move down his chest clad in a T-shirt molded perfectly to his muscles, I inhale quickly—too quickly—and choke on air.

  Both his arms are covered in tattoos. One is a full sleeve of black and gray images and words while his other arm is infused with muted shades of red and blue. I can’t make out anything concrete since the minute he notices what I’m looking at he crosses his arms while smirking at me.