Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

by Gabrielle G.

  I want the pain of losing King to disappear, the guilt of kissing another man and liking it to evaporate, the mortification of Oliver’s silence to fade.

  So, I drive fast.

  Too fast.

  I need to push myself to the limits of my existence.

  I need to know if Death is a real solution for what I’m feeling.

  I see the danger of its lure.

  Scythe and I had many discussions before, and my mind always won.

  I never jumped the gun.

  I never was as tempted as now.

  But the need to feel something else than the void Oliver dug deeper is Death’s toll for never claiming me when I was a daredevil.

  My mind and body dissociate.

  I don’t make much sense to myself.

  I hate who I am. Who they all think I am. I need them to see me like something else than a broken woman they take with tweezers. I’m not a game of Operation. I won’t buzz, and they won’t lose if they touch me.

  People think dying is for the chickens. It takes more to live and be broken than dead and free. Those people have never jumped into the unknown.

  That’s what dying is.

  A jump to somewhere you have no idea about.

  Thankfully, the highway is empty and I can push my car faster than I ever have once I’ve passed the city limits. Nothing but the asphalt, a straight line and the roar of my engine. Going faster, I scream holding the steering wheel.

  I yell to release it all, to hope everything stops, and I can let it go. I don’t see the landscape I know so well.

  I’m on autopilot. Pain, rejection, shame, I know those feelings all too well. Everything I was after King’s death is so alive inside of me, it feels as if it happened yesterday. It’s still so real.

  For a moment of peace hanging on Oliver’s lips, I’ve awoken everything I was able to bury.

  My grief is eating me alive, and the only solution I see is leaving this world.

  If you believe your loved one is waiting for you on the other side.

  If you think there is life after death. If you feel love is more meaningful than anything else. Then King is there, just at the end of my life, waiting for me to love and be loved.

  I speed a little more and curse my ability to drive so well.

  Just a little mistake, and I could join him.

  Just a loss of control, and I would be with him forever.

  My body isn’t allowing my brain to do so.

  I’m in total control of my vehicle.

  I’m as safe as I always am.

  I pray for my body to collapse, for my muscles to get tired, for anything to jump on the road.

  I don’t hear the sirens behind me. All I hear is King’s voice, calling me to the other side. He’s there, smiling, waiting for me. But my body knows what it should be doing.

  I don’t see the police car chasing me. I’m too close to the love of my life. At the end of the road, that’s where it ends — Thelma and Louise style.

  Or so I hope.

  King is in the car holding my hand. He’s standing in the middle of the highway, anticipating my death. He’s everywhere telling me we could be forever young and free.

  I accelerate a little more.

  The faster I arrive there, the faster I crash, the faster everything stops, the faster I’ll be with the man I love.

  And then the ringtone I allocated to King resonates in my car, the one I haven’t heard since he died.

  That’s when my body lets go.

  That’s when it would be easy to lose control and perish, but all of a sudden, I don’t want death anymore.

  King called me.

  Maybe he’s alive.

  Why would he have called me if he was dead?

  I slow down, allowing the cop car to catch up to me, sirens blaring.

  My mind explodes when I realize what I was ready to do.

  Anger, fear, and sadness take over the humiliation, degradation, and disgrace, I felt only a few minutes ago.

  I bring the car to a stop and wait for the officer to come to my window.

  Of course, it’s Jenkins.

  Because when Death plays with your destiny, she likes to fuck with you.

  He knocks on my window for me to put it down.

  “What the fuck, Tessa?” He screams. And all I do is shrug. “Step out of the vehicle.” I do and lean on my car, still shaken by what just happened. “What were you thinking?” Jenkins continues, pissed at me with reason. “And don’t give me any bullshit about the free highway and you knowing what you’re doing. You were going 125 mph in a 65 mph zone and didn’t show any sign of stopping when I started chasing you. You endangered your life and mine. That shit has to stop! I have to arrest you for reckless operation. And believe me, that’s nothing compared to what is going to happen to your ass once Quinn and Dixon find out about this. Dixon and Cole stuck their neck out for you last time with that psychologist shit. They did something nice, and this is how you prove them you’re all balanced and shit? I can’t believe this. What were you thinking?”

  Looking at the tip of my shoes, I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth.

  “I wanted to die, but King called,” I tell Jenkins, not recognizing my voice.

  Because King did call me and I need to call him back. Talk to him. Find him.

  “Shit,” he says. “Look at me.” I slowly raise my eyes to his. “Is the bomb ticking in your head?” I nod. “What happened?” As if I was going to tell a friend of Quinn, I tried to put myself out there.

  “Sometimes, it’s just too much.” I confess my deepest secret.

  Jenkins nods as if he could have any idea what I feel like. No one in my entourage knows. No one but… I push away Oliver and the connection I still feel toward him even after what happened.

  “So you were going to die in a car accident here. Kill yourself on the road, doing what you say you’re an expert at?” I give him a tight smile. “Have you thought of Quinn? Of what he would feel if you die when he’s been so worried for you for years? After he gave his word to his guy? After he did everything he could to help you and you keep biting his hand when all he wants is for you to stop treating life like a gamble? You know Tessa, I’ve been lenient, we’ve all been, but I can’t let this one pass. I’m so mad at you right now.”

  “Call him,” I surprise myself saying it, knowing it will break Quinn’s heart but certainly save my life.

  Truth is, I scared the shit out of myself. What would have happened if King wouldn’t have saved my life?

  I smile. King saved me.

  His phone call stopped me from spiraling.

  It was him.

  Only he knows about the song One by U2.

  Only he knows the lyrics of our first kiss.

  I can barely put the thoughts together.

  King called.

  King is alive.

  My legs give up, and I fall on the asphalt. Delirious to the realization that I almost died when the love of my life is not dead.

  “Tessa, what the fuck is happening now? Why are you crying and laughing at the same time? You’re scaring me.”

  I can’t answer, elation taking over my body.

  Rejuvenating by the adrenaline of the news, I want to jump in Jenkins’ arms, hug him tight and let my heart explode.

  King called.

  My body is exhausted by the mental battle it fought to keep me alive earlier, and I can’t move.

  All I can do is sweat, cry, and laugh.

  But who cares? King is alive.

  “What do you mean, King is alive?” Jenkins says but I don’t answer. All I can do is enjoy the moment.

  I stay that way a little while, happy on the ground, knowing all I have to do is to find him, to see him, to be back with him for everything to be alright.

  “Tessa,” Quinn’s voice is soft. He sits on the road next to me, tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

  That’s a sign I’m right.

  It ha
ppened before.

  We thought one of them was dead but he was alive.

  He came back.

  He was captured for some time but came back.

  It’s happening again.

  King is alive and he tried to call me.

  I can see it on Quinn’s face.

  “Tessa,” he repeats, slowly taking my hand. I’m waiting for him to confirm what I already know, to tell me I’m right, to announce it with joy and fanfare.

  King is alive.

  I’m at peace.

  My nightmare is over.

  But Quinn doesn’t say a word. He shakes his head and squeezes my hand.

  He doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what I heard.

  He doesn’t know King called me. I try to tell him but my words stay in the back of my throat. They are captured by the void taking over once more.

  King is alive, and Quinn doesn’t know.

  Or he doesn’t want to know.

  Or maybe he can’t tell me now?

  My eyes blink to ward off the tears forming. My beating heart slows down. My breath becomes shallow. Quinn shakes his head some more.

  “It wasn’t him,” he says with hurt in his voice.

  But I know what I heard.

  I know King called.

  I know…

  I try to get up and crawl into my car to find my phone. I need to show it to Quinn. Only then will he believe me. But I’m anchored to the floor.

  “But… But I heard him.” I manage to stutter in between the uncontrollable sobs that took over.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Quinn tries to soothe me by caressing my back.

  “Who… Who called then?” I ask between two sobs.

  “No one,” Quinn whispers. “Jenkins looked into your phone. No one called you.”

  The hollowness takes over, I become a pile of aches and pain, and when desolation opens its arms, I slide slowly into its lap.

  Someone slowly pulls a curtain on my life.

  The show is over.

  Everything goes dark.

  And I’m left exhausted, broken, alone, and with no force left to get back on my feet.

  This time what didn’t kill me took away all my strength.

  What didn’t kill me made me weaker.

  And Kelly Clarkson can go fuck herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  OLIVER

  “Open the door, Le Pew!”

  I wake up to Mark’s screams. After my shower and Tessa’s act of disappearance, I crashed. Not before checking a couple of times if the windows were still sealed and the door was locked and calling Naomi to make sure Aito was alright.

  I was out of control again.

  The kisses, the desire, the erection I had for her render me weak and stupid.

  How could I think fucking her was a good idea?

  Of course, she ran after we had sex.

  It wasn’t the reaction I expected but I understand her not wanting to face me and feeling like she made a mistake. However, finding my bed vacant had hurt more than it should have.

  “Le Pew!” I can barely hear Mark’s voice over the banging on the door. I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish, but I should open it before he destroys it. I wait a little more, letting him get even angrier than he is. Not because I like to make my friends lose their minds but because I can’t move from the bed until I’ve counted to one hundred. I started this the first morning I stayed here when I needed to find a reason to get up and go to work, and as usual with me, I became a little obsessive with the counting.

  “Open the fucking door, Spencer.” He continues hammering at it, his voice louder than before. Shit. He’s going to destroy it.

  I count faster, hurrying the last fifty so I can answer the door. But it’s not that simple. I unlock and lock and unlock again, repeating my actions a couple of times before I finally open to Mark, who barges in angrier than I have ever seen before.

  “Why the fuck did you play with the lock so much?” He’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “The door can be difficult. I couldn’t open it,” I lie as usual and get a grunt as an answer.

  “Still leaving?” he asks, looking at my bag mostly packed. Not that I took care of it since I came back to the motel. I didn’t unpack since I arrived.

  “Yes, I am.” Mark nods and crosses his arms on his chest. “What do you want, Twilight?”

  “I need you to look more into the case. There is something fishy around VanHorn. I know I’m asking a lot, and you think that the case is shit, but I have one last argument to make you stay. One more.” He points his index in the air and sends me a begging look.

  “What is it, Mark? Because from what I saw, everything is good. The guy served and has a lovely family. End of story.” I shrug. It wouldn’t be the first time that one of the white collars of the White House lies. The truth always ends up surfacing in the sea of lies people drown themselves in.

  I repeat it slowly to myself.

  The truth always ends up surfacing.

  I should tell Mark my truth.

  I should tell him for Elaine, for me, for who I am and how I can’t function without my repetitive behavior.

  “Mark,” I start to tell my truth, forgetting he wanted to tell me something too. Not counting on him to cut me off to make his point.

  “VanHorn is Tessa’s stepfather.”

  I freeze.

  I didn’t find anything about her being linked to VanHorn.

  “So why the fuck is she driving me around? You do realize it’s totally unethical and moreover dangerous for her.” I growl. People tend to hate when you discover their secrets and they sometimes become a little erratic. I don’t know what Tessa’s relationship with her stepfather is, but I’m fairly certain he won’t appreciate his stepdaughter helping us dig into his life and trying to ruin his reputation.

  “Jackson and I thought about it, anyway he knows she’s our friend and that Quinn has been taking care of her since King died. Not that her mother helped since Tessa decided to jump off cliffs. They both checked out and barely talk to her anymore. I don’t think she even knows her stepfather is thinking of running for Senate. I prefer her to be close to you and protected than driving around like a lunatic and end up the latest statistic of car accidents in Virginia.”

  I roll my eyes hearing so. “You know… she drives extremely well. I don’t think she’ll end up causing an accident at all.” I don’t miss the amused glare and smirk on Mark’s face.

  “Don’t…” I tell him raising one eyebrow to warn him not to say what he’s thinking.

  “Don’t what?” He teases.

  “Don’t say it, Twilight. Just don’t.” I shake my head to warn him.

  “Okay…” he raises his hands in a defensive motion. “I won’t say that you like her,” the asshole says with pride.

  “Fucking Dammit, Mark!” I bring my hands to my hair. Hearing it out loud hurts. I’m not ready to like someone else. Not in a romantic way. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I never spare you with the truth, Le Pew. That’s how you got your call name Mr. Smelly Frenchie, and that’s how it has always been.”

  “You and your fucking vow to tell me the truth and all the truth until death does us part. I didn’t smell bad then, and I don’t smell bad now! Because I can speak French like a native doesn’t mean I smell. French people don’t smell.” I argue.

  That’s something he has told me for years. As soon as he heard I grew up in Paris, and one time I didn’t have time to shower before getting to the training camp, he called me Le Pew. I wished my teammate would give me another call name, but Mark had made sure it stuck through every mission by telling each of our classmates and making sure they carry on the name wherever they were. The call name stuck like wax to my balls, and removing it was nearly impossible. Not that I had ever tried to wax my balls.

  “Good try changing the subject, man… You like Tessa…”

  �
�We aren’t ready for anything…” I stupidly answer. At the face Mark is making, I know I said too much.

  “Not what I was expecting. So you have thought about her and about being ready to have a relationship with her?”

  I sigh. ”Mark… do you want me to paint your nails while we’re at it?”

  “I’d love that Le Pew. But first, let’s have a beer, and while I have you vulnerable, why don’t you tell me what’s happened to you since Elaine died?”

  “I already told you I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Yeah, and I believe that’s the cause of the massive stick you have up your ass. I spoke a lot with Anna while she was here and you were I don’t know the fuck where once again. She told me you changed a lot. She added that you needed to tell me something. So I’m not letting you go Ol, and I’m forcing you to get a beer so you can loosen up and tell me what you came here to say because we both know you didn’t come back to Virginia for Pat and Sue nor for the job. Time is up, Le Pew.” He picks up my wallet and phone from the nightstand and hands them to me. “Let’s go.”

  “Not to sound like an ass, but my bar looks much better than this shit hole.” I mumble while Mark takes the seat facing me in a booth that looks like it’s straight out of the seventies, but not like a revamp hippy place a crazy interior designer has made trendy again, more like it has never been renovated and hasn’t changed an iota since then.

  “Might be shit, but it serves the best beer around here.” Mark slides his bottle against mine and cheers, insisting on looking at me in the eyes because of his superstition of having years of bad sex.

  “To friends and no bullshit,” Mark says before taking his first sip. I watch him drinking his beer, remembering the guy I met years ago. He was with me when I met Elaine. He’s the one who helped me get the girl and reassured me when I needed it. We saw each other sporadically then, but we kept in touch the most we could, and he’s the first one I told about the engagement. He was supposed to be my best man, the godfather to my child, the guy that always had my back. And he didn’t falter in his duty. But I did.

  “You’ve always been here for me,” I tell him ashamed that I haven’t been around for a while. I don’t even know his wife and haven’t met her since I arrived.