All I Want

by J. Daniels

  The word is right there, tickling my lips, but I’m suddenly having difficulty affirming the one goal I had for the evening. He senses my apprehension and tilts his head with a soft grin as he cradles my face in his hands.

  His gaze lowers. “I am dying to be alone with you. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

  All my hesitation evaporates as I blush, nodding before finding my voice. “No more waiting.”

  ***

  “Nice place,” he observes, looking around my apartment as I lock the door behind us. I watch him get comfortable on my couch, slumping down on one end. I toss my keys onto the table and head into the kitchen.

  “Thanks. Do you want something to drink?”

  “A beer, if you got it.”

  I grab two beers out of the fridge, and kick my flip-flops off before joining him. As I place the beers on the coffee table in front of me, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag that’s rolled up tightly.

  “What is that?” I ask, leaning forward and watching him hold it over the coffee table.

  Two of his fingers grasp the top of the bag, allowing it to unravel and reveal the contents.

  I put a hand on his arm as my breath catches in my chest. “Um, those are just regular cigarettes, right?”

  He muffles his laugh through tight lips, opening the top of the bag and reaching inside. “They better not be.” He pulls out a blunt and tosses the bag in front of him before reaching into the front pocket of his polo and removing a lighter. I watch with what I’m sure is my most alarmed expression as he lights up and takes a hit, holding it in for several seconds before he exhales and offers it to me.

  I shake my head, scooting back on the couch.

  He moves closer. “Come on. Get high with me.”

  “I have beer. I’m good.”

  His brow pinches together before he takes another hit, grabs the back of my neck, and blows the smoke against my mouth.

  “What the hell!” I push against him, hearing his amused laugh as I cough into my fist. “I’ve never done that stuff. Are you crazy?”

  He takes another hit and nods. “You’re twenty-four and you’ve never tried pot? I just did you a favor.”

  Suddenly annoyed and borderline murderous, I move to stand when he grabs my wrist and pulls me back down next to him.

  “I just wanna go to the bathroom really quick.”

  He releases me, blowing the smoke out above him. “Hurry up.”

  I ignore the warning in his voice and walk down the hallway, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I rinse my hands under the cool water as I stare at myself in the mirror.

  My eyes appear glassy and dilated.

  Shit. Can you get high off one hit of weed? Is that a thing?

  I turn the water off, roughly drying my hands on a towel before balling it up and tossing it against the wall. I could easily walk back out there and follow through with my original plans for the evening, but I’m suddenly no longer wanting to do anything with this guy besides kick his ass out of my apartment. And after forcing me to try drugs, I seriously doubt he’s going to take my sudden disinterest in him very well. But right now, I don’t give a shit what this guy wants. Nobody makes me uncomfortable.

  I exit the bathroom and walk down the hallway, coming up behind the couch and seeing him bent over the coffee table. “Look, I don’t think…”

  I’m cut off by a loud sniffing sound and walk around the side of the couch to investigate it. As he lifts his head, my eyes narrow in on the three white lines of powder on my glass top, and I feel my stomach drop out to the floor.

  “What the fuck? What are you doing?”

  He wipes underneath his nose and leans back, smiling. “Getting high. You said you wanted to party, remember?”

  “Are you crazy? My brother is a cop!” I move quickly, and without thought, come up beside him and brush the powder off the table and onto my carpet.

  I just want it gone.

  I want him gone.

  “Hey!” he yells, grabbing me and throwing me to the ground.

  I land on my hip, wincing in pain before looking at him over my shoulder and taking in his desperate state.

  He runs his hands over the carpet, trying to salvage any of his precious drug, and looking like a strung-out junkie in the process. His eyes flash with rage as he turns them on me, balling his fists against the floor.

  “You stupid bitch! Do you have any idea how much that cost me?” Before I can answer, he reaches for my ankle and pulls me toward him. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.”

  I flail against him, bending the leg he doesn’t have in his grasp and kicking out, connecting with his jaw. “Get off me!” He lets out a loud groan, grabbing my other leg and pinning me to the ground. I squirm as much as I can, screaming at the top of my lungs, but he quickly silences me with one hand to my mouth and another to my throat. My hands claw at his face, his neck, anything to weaken him.

  My eyes go wide with panic when he tightens his grip.

  “Yeah, I fucking love that. Look how scared you look right now.” He bends down, running his nose against my cheek. “Are you ready to see how rough I like it?”

  I close my eyes as I try to pry his fingers from around my neck, but he keeps his hold. And as the tears slip out and my breathing becomes constricted, there’s only one word remaining in my vocabulary. One word that I chant over and over again in my head.

  Luke.

  “Ruin your own life, Tessa. Do whatever you want. I don’t give a shit, and soon, I won’t even have to watch.”

  I turn and walk away, needing to get the hell out of here before I resort to begging. I refuse to let her see my desperation right now. I don’t want this to bother me, I shouldn’t care what she does anymore¸ but it does, and I do.

  I fucking care.

  “Where are you going?”

  I ignore whatever-the-hell-her-name-is as I pass her, walking straight for my truck. I don’t know why she’s still trying. I barely said two words to her after she sat down next to me, and I was too distracted to act interested in her, or the way she shamelessly brushed against my cock, which didn’t react to her either.

  Not even a twitch.

  That didn’t surprise me. Unless I’m imagining Tessa’s hands or mouth, it never reacts.

  After slamming my door, I start the truck up and sit there, hand on the clutch, ready to shift it into drive, but I don’t move. I can’t. I let out my breath and slump back against the headrest, looking between the cars in front of me at the bodies in the distance.

  I shouldn’t even be here. Nobody else seems to give a shit about what she does, so why the fuck do I? Why can’t I turn it off? I don’t want to feel anything anymore, except hate. But even that’s a dangerous emotion when it comes to Tessa. My hate for her consumes me, ripping me apart, like everything else I’ve ever felt for her.

  It triggers my obsession. Fueling it.

  But I know if I don’t hate her, I’ll leave myself open to feel something else, something I never want to feel again.

  It’s fucking pathetic how much effort it takes to hate someone. It doesn’t come without struggle, but allowing yourself to be vulnerable for them? That’s easy, and it’s exactly what I did. I held my arms out and watched as she wedged herself deep inside me, only to claw her way out and take shredded pieces of me with her.

  Never again. I’ll hate Tessa until it fucking kills me, but that’s the only thing I’ll allow myself to feel.

  Movement through the window of the truck a row ahead of me catches my attention, and I focus on it as the figure moves around the front of the hood and to the car next to it. The one directly in front of me.

  My back goes rigid in my seat. “Motherfucker.”

  I lean up, watching as the dipshit I should’ve laid out the moment I saw him opens the door of his Camero and gets inside. My eyes immediately dart to the license plate as it becomes illuminated, and I commit it to memory just before h
e drives away, following closely behind Tessa’s vehicle.

  2A8347J

  “Gotcha, asshole.”

  ***

  I get to the precinct within fifteen minutes, only bothering to put my truck in park before I run inside, repeating the license plate number over and over again in my head.

  2A8347J

  2A8347J

  I brush past someone, not registering them until I hear their voice behind me.

  “Hey, man. What are you doing here?”

  I turn my head, briefly connecting with CJ, but continuing in the direction of my desk. “I gotta look something up.” 2A8347J

  “Is everything all right?”

  2A834… FUCK.

  “Stop fucking talking to me!” I yell, halting in front of my desk and running my hands down my face. God, I’m losing it.

  “All right, Jesus.”

  I close my eyes, picturing the license plate in my head and focusing on all seven numbers. 2A8347J

  After I have it, I turn my head to apologize, but see I’m too late when my gaze locks onto the empty entryway.

  Nice. You’re an asshole, Evans.

  I sit down at my desk, booting up my computer and staring impatiently at the screen as it takes it times to load. I hit a few buttons to try and speed up the process, and when that doesn’t work, I resort to smacking the side of the monitor.

  “Come fucking on already.”

  The welcome screen appears and I click on the search engine, hovering my mouse over where I know the blank box is going to load. It does, and I type frantically into the license plate field.

  2A8347J

  I press enter, watching the hourglass turn twice before the screen displays my results. A license appears and I scan the information, narrowing in on the name.

  Tyler Tripp

  “Motherfucking shit.”

  Tessa either gave Ben the wrong name, or this asshole lied to her. Both scenarios are believable right now, and the fact that I didn’t go with my gut and investigate this before tonight has me squeezing my mouse so hard it makes a cracking sound in my hand.

  “Shit.”

  I loosen my grip, scrolling down the screen, not caring anymore about what this asshole weighs and needing to get to the information I know is there. There’s no way this guy hasn’t at least gotten a speeding ticket. Nobody buys a Camero with the intent to obey the speed limit.

  Charges

  My heartbeat fills my ears, causing tremors in my vision, as I try and make out the words I’m almost afraid to focus on. I rub my eyes, digging my thumb into one and two fingers into the other, before blinking several times and letting the words slowly form in front of me.

  Domestic Disturbance — Charges Dropped

  Domestic Violence — Charges Dropped

  “Tessa.”

  I’m out the door before I even realize I’m moving, running faster than I ever have. I slide on the gravel, grabbing the door handle and nearly ripping the damn thing off when I swing it open. As soon as I get in my truck, I grab my phone out of my cup holder and with frantic fingers, light up the screen. It fades to black immediately, dying on me and causing me to panic further.

  “Fucking shit!”

  I toss it to the floor with enough force to break it, and pull out of the parking lot, barreling down Cheseco Avenue in the direction of Tessa’s apartment building. I have to believe she’s there with him. I didn’t think to write down that fucker’s address, or even glance at it, and there’s no way in hell I’m turning around to do that. She has to be there. I can’t think of a scenario that involves her not at her apartment and somewhere else.

  Somewhere I might not be able to get to in time.

  Eight grueling minutes later, my headlights illuminate the parking lot out in front of her building and I see her car parked in its usual spot. I’m relieved, but only momentarily, as the red Camero parked next to her comes into my line of sight.

  My tires screech as I barely make it to a spot before I’m jumping out of my truck and taking the stairs to her level. I’m running, fast, faster, until I reach her door and jar the locked handle.

  “Tessa! Tessa, open the door!”

  I bang repeatedly, each time with more force than the previous. My hand begins to throb, then burn with a fire that shoots down my arm to my elbow.

  No answer. Not a single noise. She’s here. I know she is, and she isn’t answering me.

  Or she can’t.

  “TESSA!”

  I bang one last time before stepping back, turning sideways, and ramming my shoulder into the wood. It cracks against me, driving me into it again and again. My shoulder screams for me to stop, but I don’t. I can’t. I can barely breathe. My lungs are heaving and trying to pull in as much air as possible while my head fills with images of Tessa, unable to respond to me.

  “FUCK! Come on!”

  One last drive and the door splits at the frame, swinging open and allowing me to come crashing into the room.

  The scene in front of me has me struggling to stay upright.

  To take a step.

  To do fucking anything besides stand motionless.

  I see his hands around her neck, squeezing, as she tries to remove them. The body on top of her, pinning her to the floor as her legs twitch, struggling to kick off his weight.

  Then her eyes grab me.

  They’re tear streaked, straining to stay open, and paralyze me with a pleading look that has bile rising in the back of my throat.

  Tessa.

  “Somebody wants to watch? Fuck, I’m down for that.”

  I hear his voice and it snaps me out of my trance, sending me flying at him. He’s knocked to the ground, freeing Tessa, and I get in a few punches before I turn my head at the sound of her desperate attempts to take in a breath.

  “Go…”

  Thwack.

  I fall to my side with a blow to my jaw, pulling this piece of shit with me.

  “Luke!”

  Tessa’s voice is hoarse, but still urgent as I slip out of each grip this fucker tries to put on me. I block several blows to my ribcage, a strike to my head, and one to my gut. This guy knows where to hit, but I know better, and I also know he’s going to tire soon. He becomes frustrated, slipping up and allowing me to gain the upper hand when his controlled movements become frantic.

  I grab his neck, pinning his head in place while I flip him so he’s on his stomach. I pull his arm behind his back, twisting his wrist until he cries out.

  “Arrghhhffuucckkkk!”

  “Sorry. What was that?” I twist it more, feeling his entire body strain against the pressure as his screams fill the apartment. I drop my head next to his ear. “I should fucking kill you right now.”

  “Yeah?” He laughs, turning his head so his one eye is trained on me. “Fucking do it then, pussy.”

  He tries to buck underneath me, but I dig my knee into his back and keep him pinned. I look up at Tessa, narrowing in on the purple and red marks coating her neck, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and the look on her face I never want to see again.

  I try to convince myself that my next actions are based purely on my duty to protect Ben’s sister. That there’s no underlying motivation here. No emotions driving this.

  But I’m lying.

  Our eyes meet, and I hold her gaze as I twist his wrist until I push past the resistance, waiting for that snap.

  I get two of them.

  “ARGHH! FUUUUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” He flails underneath me like a fish out of water, his hand limp in mine, no longer connected to the bones in his arm. “YOU BROKE MY WRIST! ARRGHH SHIIIT!”

  Tessa drops her stare to the man beneath me, eyes wide and wild as she reaches up with a trembling hand and rubs the skin on her neck.

  “Where’s your phone?” I ask her.

  She doesn’t acknowledge me. Not even with a flinch. The body I’m holding down goes slack and I shift my grip on him, putting more of my weight onto the middle of his back.


  “Tessa.”

  Her head snaps up, and I see the same stark panic in her eyes as I did when I first broke in, but it’s mixed with something else. Apprehension; maybe some guilt. I’m familiar with this look. It’s the same look people have when they’re about to confess to something, when they have no fucking clue how it’s going to be received.

  And now I’m starting to feel uneasy.

  She sits up on her knees, straightening her posture. “He brought drugs here. I didn’t know he had them with him. I swear. I thought it was just pot, but then he was snorting lines of coke when I came out from the bathroom, and I…”

  I twist the fucker’s other wrist and he squeals, cutting Tessa off. “Are you fucking high right now?” I ask her over his whines.

  She shakes her head with rapid movements. “No, I didn’t… I don’t think I am.” She squeezes her eyes shut, whispering with a shaky voice, “Fuck, I don’t know.” Her eyes shoot open again, pleading for understanding. “He blew a hit in my face before I knew he was doing it. I’ve never done it before. I swear, Luke, but I don’t know if I’m feeling it. I don’t really feel anything right now.”

  I drop my head, shutting my eyes with such force that it causes my head to throb.

  This is just what I fucking need.

  “Luke?”

  “Where is your phone?” I grunt out through a clenched jaw, my eyes meeting hers.

  She quickly reaches onto the table behind her, holding her phone out to me with a trembling hand. “I brushed the coke off the table. I don’t know if he has more on him, but it’s all in my carpet. Should I vacuum it up?”

  I ignore her question and slide my grip to his elbow, securing him better, and letting his limp arm fall to his side. I’m not worried he’ll use that one anymore. I reach into the front pocket of his shorts.

  “If I get stabbed with a fucking needle, or anything else, I’m breaking your other wrist.”

  He whimpers beneath me as I clear his right pocket, moving onto his left. I enclose my hand around something small, feeling the sharp edge of the plastic dig into my palm before I slide it out. Opening my hand, I reveal the baggie, staring at it briefly because I don’t need to analyze it. I know exactly what it is.

  I put it on the carpet next to my leg and grab the phone from her. “Go start chugging water and get your ass in the shower.”