Ruining You

by Nicole Reed

  By

  * * * *

  Ruining You

  Copyright © 2013 by Nicole Reed

  Published by Nicole Reed

  Edited by Erinn Giblin

  Cover art by Okay Creations

  Cover Photo by CS Design

  Formatting by JTFormatting

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author/publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at:

  www.nicolreed.wordpress.com or www.facebook.com/RuiningMe

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To Jay...

  Always choose to live.

  When I was a small child, I believed every man in my life was a knight in shining armor. I’m not sure whether it was because my father always reminded me of the prince in the fairytales I read or if it was the whole “every little girl is a princess” mentality. I just know that men, especially handsome men, fascinated me even at a young age. From the moment they smiled at me, they were my prince in the current fairytale I was living.

  I had known JT almost my entire life, but when I saw him through the eyes of young love for the first time in middle school, things changed. I instantly saw my shining knight. He was the savior I believed in, and he treated me like the princess I dreamed to be. He put me first and rescued me from anything and everything, whenever I needed him. Why is it, if I wholeheartedly believed in the prince, that I didn’t believe in the villain as well?

  As a sophomore in high school, I, along with every other sensible young woman, grew increasingly leery of men. I was especially wary of the strange and scary-looking ones I would sometimes see around town. I watched TV and knew that girls went missing daily. Being left home alone often due to my parents’ extensive travel schedule, I was always doubly cautious. I made sure to lock the doors and turn on the alarm as soon as I arrived home. I never had a reason to worry though. My personal knight in shining armor was always watching over me. JT never failed to call or drop by to insure I was safe and taken care of.

  Then one day, a man I considered another possible knight in my life became a villain - the monster. I remember smiling at his handsome face that fateful day when he stepped inside the room with me. I remember thinking I was safe and secure and believing him to be another man who would watch over me and ride to my rescue. What a cruel fate that shattered my reality that day and all the days that followed. When you have nothing but time to re-examine your entire life, you see things a little clearer, and right now, all I have is time. Time is now measured from the night when death stole from me, took my battered heart, and left me behind.

  Sixty-four days is an eternity to live with the guilt that weighs me down and the thoughts that swirl around my head. The path I chose is the one I continue to choose. With every sunrise, those feelings strengthen. My soul is broken into a million pieces, and I find new fragments every day. The deconstruction of me is painful, but there are reasons why I can’t finish what I started.

  “What else would you like to talk about today, Jay?” Dr. Raines voice interrupts my thoughts.

  We are both sitting in chairs, facing one another. Dr. Raines seems calm and controlled as she sits across from me. Today, she has her blond curly hair pulled back in a knot with a few strands that have escaped.

  Her grey suit ages her and makes her appear slightly dour, but the twinkle in her hazel eyes belies them. She looks at me with a slim smile on her face, and I think to myself, “Is it a prerequisite for a ‘shrink’ to look and act like she does? We’ve been sitting here for the last thirty minutes, and she is driving me insane.”

  “Nothing really,” I softly answer. Glancing around the room, I read the framed certificates that hang upon the walls, and I only turn to see the pictures of her family lined on the shelves behind her desk. Two boys, at different stages of their lives, are documented in the photos.

  “Are you reading over your Safety Contract weekly?”

  Nodding my head, my eyes continue to roam around the room. The contract she is referring to is a suicide prevention contract. It is one of the many documents I have been required to sign during my two month stay at the private inpatient facility. The form forces me to list reasons why I should live and the people it would hurt if I chose not to. Currently, the contract only lists my parents, Molly, and Kane as my “care contacts,” but there is only one person that keeps me living, and his name is nowhere on that form.

  “What about your journal? Are you documenting your thoughts and feelings daily?”

  “Most days,” I reply back to her.

  “How is the in-house schooling going?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I mutter, “I’m working on credits for my high school diploma.” Is that what she wants to hear? I pick at my blue cotton pants and twist the edges of my white t-shirt to keep my hands busy as I look directly at her.

  “That is really fantastic. I know that in our last family therapy session, your mother said that she was ready for you to come home. Have you thought any more about leaving?”

  I close my eyes and bow my head, shaking it in veto.

  “Look at me, Jay. Please,” her soft voice pleads.

  I slowly lift my eyes, wearily gazing into hers.

  “You are here voluntarily which means you make the decision whether or not you are ready to leave. I want you to remember that.”

  Shifting my eyes downward, I close them tightly and take a deep breath. Quietly, I whisper, “Not yet. I’m not ready to face everyone.”

  “Jay, we’ve talked about this. You have to form connections with people. It’s the only way you’ll be able to move forward. All you have to do is let people in. Have you made any friends while you have been here?”

  Looking up again at her, I slightly lift my shoulders and say, “I’ve talked with a couple of the girls after group sessions.”

  “That’s good. The more social interaction you have while you’re here, the easier it will be when you go home. Sunday visitation is coming up. I understand that JT’s mother is still requesting to visit you. You need to talk with her. Your mother and I have both told you that she doesn’t blame you. She wants to speak with you to explain her feelings.”

  I firmly shake my head back and forth.

  “This is part of your recovery, Jay. You have to come to grips with your past or the actions that led you here can always repeat themselves. Do you understand what I’m saying? You can’t run from it, and yo
u can’t hide. Facing it head-on is your only course of action. This is not your guilt to bear.”

  Tears well up in my eyes as I feel my throat tighten, and it’s hard to swallow. JT’s smiling image passes behind my closed eyes. For a second, my heart comes to a painful halt, and my stomach clinches from the gut-wrenching physical pain of his loss. Everyday feels like that last day with him, and I relive the agonizing torment that I felt as I stood in the field beside the road and saw his lifeless body lying in the grass. A part of me still remains there, forever frozen at that intersection.

  Fighting back the tears, I rub my eyes and look up at her, “I know the role that I played regarding his death. That is something I will live with for the rest of my life. Time will not erase those last minutes I had with him. They were not happy moments, Dr. Raines. They were forever soul-changing. I don’t know what Mrs. Higgins could possibly say that would make me feel any different.”

  “Maybe it’s Mrs. Higgins who would heal from talking to you, Jay. Have you thought about that? She is a grieving mother, and this might be her only release.”

  Nodding towards the pictures of her sons on the wall, I ask, “Say that one day you lose one of your sons because of decisions a girl made. Their death could have been prevented had she stayed away or told the truth from the beginning. Could you really forgive her?” I already know my answer; I would hate her.

  “I would like to think that, after looking at the entire situation, I would understand she wasn’t at fault, and that I would cast blame where it was due. It wouldn’t be at her feet, Jay. Keep in mind, I have spoken with Mrs. Higgins, and she doesn’t hold you responsible. Today is just Wednesday. You have a couple days to decide. Anything else you want to talk about before we end today’s session?”

  “No.”

  “It takes time, and thank goodness you have it, Jay. You’re lucky for that. Every day is a new start and a new beginning. Always remember to treat it like a gift.” She stands up and turns toward the door to open it.

  Standing, I follow her as she turns back towards me.

  “Try to connect with other patients this week. My door is always open if you need me.”

  Swiftly, I shuffle past her saying, “I will,” and head to my room.

  Walking down the hallway, a couple of girls and guys try to talk to me as I pass by, but I keep walking. Some things never change. When I reach my room, I close the door behind me. Rushing to my bed, I fling myself on top of the covers and bury my head deep in the pillow. I will the tears back and force all thoughts out of my head. If I don’t, memories of JT and Cal bombard me, and I can’t let those memories surface.

  My head pounds like a steel drum as I lie there. The memories press forward in my mind. I try to push them back, but they come anyway. Flashes of red play through my mind while the sound of an ambulance blares in my head. I remember bits and pieces of waking up as they brought me to the hospital. I fought them, screamed, and prayed they would just let me go forever. My next memory is of waking up the next day and hearing voices. The last time I saw him plays over and over in my mind. I hear Kane’s raspy voice, whispering hauntingly beautiful words in my ear.

  “You can’t wake a girl that pretends to sleep.”

  My eyes open directly to his. I try to speak, but my throat feels like someone has set fire to it.

  “That’s what happens when they have to put a tube down your throat to empty your stomach.” His hoarse voice says, as he grabs a glass of water on the table.

  Leaning it towards me, he holds the straw to my mouth. I can only swallow a little bit. Clearing my throat, I try to talk again.

  “Leave, I’m not going to be here long.” Looking at me, he knows what I mean.

  “You’re not going to be in the hospital long or you’re not going to be on this earth long?” I glare at him and shake my head.

  Kane places my glass of water on the table. Leaning back down over my hospital bed, he grips the rails on either side and lowers his face close to mine.

  “You listen to me, I’m not leaving you. Not for a second. Do you really think I will let myself lose another friend?”

  “I’m not your friend,” I whisper.

  “Your right, Jay, you’re not my friend. You are so much more to me and these past couple of days didn’t change that. So we’ll get through this together or we will not get through it at all.”

  I shake my head at him and say, “I don’t want you here.”

  He kisses my cheek and whispers back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Damn,” I say, leaning up in my bed. I haven’t seen Kane since that last conversation. After that day, I was hospitalized for psychiatric evaluation and not allowed to see anyone for seventy-two hours. Then, I willingly opted to be transferred to Lanier Oaks, a rehabilitation center about an hour away from home.

  I’m in the young adult division which houses about nine girls and ten guys recovering from alcohol and drugs along with us “crazies”. The daily 5 P.M. group sessions are very interesting. Dr. Gale facilitates, and he’s okay I guess. He and I are fine until he tries to press me to talk, and that’s when the stand-off begins. He insists that I share, and I silently look at him like he’s the crazy one. Win, win!

  Glancing around the room, I realize just how small it is compared to my room at home. At least it’s private. I have a small twin size wooden bed with a matching desk and chair. On the top of my desk lay letters folded neatly on top of one another. Some are from Kane, and others are from Molly and my parents. The letter on the bottom of the stack is unsigned, but it instantly changed my path.

  Rising from the bed, I walk over to the desk and sit down. My fingertips glide over the tops of the letters, feeling the smoothness of the paper and the ridges where the words were carefully inscribed. It feels like I have read them each a million times. Their words take my mind far away from here.

  I reach for the first one Kane wrote to me and gently unfold it. I can still see him so clearly in my mind - his dark shaved head, shiny green eyes, and those two dimples beautifully carved into his face moments before he kissed me. Closing my eyes, I can still feel his tattooed arms, thick from roped muscle, as he held me tight. I swear I can smell him and his spiced exotic cologne from deep within the paper. I open my eyes and glance down at his handwriting. It is rather neat for a guy; it must have taken him forever. I devour the words that he wrote to me during our first week apart.

  Jay,

  Well, it’s been a week since I last saw you. I know things weren’t left how I would have wanted them to be, so your Mom said I could write you this letter. To be honest, I don’t think I have ever written a letter to anyone before. Except for this one love letter in elementary school that I’m pretty sure only said, “Do you like me: circle yes or no”. That was much easier to write than this.

  Asking you how you are doing would only make me sound like an idiot. I just wish that I could talk to you one more time. I want to tell you how happy I am that you are still here…ON THIS FUCKING EARTH. With me. Damn Jay, you scared the shit out of me. I keep telling myself that you’re here, even if I can’t see you or talk to you. You’re here, and that is all that matters. You just have to take each day a little at a time and eventually everything will come together.

  I don’t think I ever told you about this one time, when I was younger, Cole and I used to go swimming in this pond on our land every summer. One hot afternoon, we headed down to the pond and both jumped in, fully clothed. We were just a couple kids trying to cool off from the summer heat. I remember swimming out to the middle and diving down, but when I touched the bottom and tried to come up, my shoe got caught on something. Of course, I immediately panicked, and like a little dumbass, let all my air out as I fought harder to free myself. Seconds seemed like hours, but finally, just when I was about to pass out, I felt Cole grab my hand and tug me upward pulling my foot lose from my shoe. I will never forget the moment when my head broke the water line and my lungs filled with air. Cole’s han
d still tightly gripped mine, and I knew, that for the rest of my life, someone would always “have my back.”

  Jay...this is me letting you know that, no matter what, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. This is me gripping your hand and pulling you out. Damn, that sounds corny, but it’s true. I could explain it better in person, but this is all I get for now. I wish I could just see you and tell you this. I’ve thought about everything that’s happened, and I want you to know that I’ll be here, no matter what.

  I know you’re where you need to be, but hell, I just want to see you. So figure you out and I’ll be waiting.

  Love You...Kane

  I am numb from all the emotion I should be feeling. Folding the letter, I lay it back down on the desk as his words run through my mind. I grab the next one from him, unfold it, and continue.

  Jay,

  It’s been two weeks since I wrote that last letter. I know your mom and dad have both heard from you, and you’re alive, so that’s good, but they are my only link to you. I guess I thought I would hear back from you. Ok, if you are not ready to write to me yet, I get it. Really....Fuck...no, I don’t. Life is moving on, but yet I can’t. I call your mom and Molly all the time, trying to find out about you.

  My head is fucked up. It’s almost like reliving Matt’s death again. Except you didn’t die, thank God for that, but I don’t know how to quit worrying. To think about if you get a second chance, not at life, but at whatever is in that head of yours. I doubt myself, my thoughts, and my actions, and I wonder where the hell I am supposed to go from here. Shit, I’ll probably never send this letter with your mom.