by Sarah Cole
FROM THE DARK
Sarah Cole
Copyright © 2016 Sarah Cole
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1540706893
ISBN-13: 978-1540706898
Patience is not sitting and waiting, it is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose, looking at the night and seeing the day. Lovers are patient and know the moon needs time to become full.
- Rumi
Prologue
Jay:
I see her long blonde hair glowing in the lights of the club. I know what it will feel like if I run my fingers through it, what it will smell like if I bury my face in it, and I know what her body will feel like when it’s pressed up against mine. Silk, gardenias, and heaven on Earth. I stumble my way over to her, and wrap my arms around her waist, but it’s not right. Not in the least. Where there should be soft curves, there’s nothing but firmness, and when I bury my face in her hair I’m met with the strong smell of an unfamiliar perfume and the stiffness of hairspray.
“You’re not Abby.” I say, but even to my own ears I know my words are slurred.
Her giggle breaks through the thumping bass surrounding us and the blonde leans over and whispers in my ear, “Nope, I’m Jess. But I’ll be whoever you want to be if you keep touching me like that.”
She presses her ass into me, trying to garner a response, and if I close my eyes I can almost pretend I’m somewhere else. With someone else. Screw it, let’s give this a whirl...again.
“You wanna get out of here?” I ask, and the petite red head the blonde is with nods eagerly, answering for her.
“Lead the way.” She says, her voice low and sultry. It does nothing for me.
Standing out on the sidewalk in the early evening light, she hails a cab, and her skin-tight navy dress inches up her thighs. She’s hot, no doubt about it, but she is just a cheap substitute for what I’m craving. I reach into my pocket, fingers grazing the corner of the plastic baggie that holds the white powder that will help me to forget. I know I’m going to need something stronger if I’m actually going to go through with it this time.
***
“Hey guys, hold up! My phone is blowing up!” I shout at the band, halting the music. We’ve been in the studio all day tracking some of the songs for our upcoming album.
“Hello?” I answer, without looking at the number, and I’m met with a sniff on the other end of the line.
“Jay?”
“Yeah?” I ask, growing impatient. I’ve got shit to do.
“It’s Kate, Charlie’s sister.” Her voice cracks, and immediately dread rolls through my body. I can count on one hand the number of times she’s called me.
“What’s wrong, Kate? Is Charlie ok?” I ask, raking my hands down my face.
“No, Jay. She and Abby were in an accident tonight. I don’t know details, but I don’t know if they’re going to make it. We’re headed to University Medical center. Mom and Dad and Abby’s parents are on their way, but you need to hurry.”
My heart kicks into overdrive, and adrenaline courses through my body.
“I’m on my way.” I say as I end the call, panic starting to boil in my veins. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose them.
“Fuck!” I shout, kicking over my guitar that was resting up against the chair.
“What the hell, man?” Brenden asks, looking confused as he plucks the strings on his bass guitar.
“Charlie and Abby… shit!” I say fumbling for my keys in the bowl.
“Slow down!” Chase says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, then talk.”
“Charlie and Abby were in an accident; they don’t know if they’ll make it. I’ve gotta go.” I manage, and I see the stricken expressions on all my friend and bandmates’ faces. We are all like family, and Charlie is our best friend. She’s like our sister…. And Abby, well, Abby is my whole world.
“I’ll drive.” Aaron says, bolting from his seat and we all sprint for the door.
We burst through the doors of the ER waiting room, and I immediately spot Kate sobbing in the arms of her husband, Alec, and I know. I just know, I’ve lost something. I’ve lost a piece of me that I won’t ever get back, and tears fill my eyes.
“Kate?” I question with a shaky voice, and she looks up, her eyes meeting mine as she shakes her head. The knife twists deeper.
“Who?” I manage to croak out through the sob that’s stuck in my throat.
“Abby…” she sobs, her face contorting with grief, and I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. It physically hurts. I’m going to be sick.
“Charlie?” one of the guys asks, and I don’t know if I can take the answer. I turn to bolt for the exit, but one of the guys pulls me back, holding up my dead weight.
“She’s critical. Still in surgery, but they told us to prepare for the worst- because it doesn’t look good.”
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, through tears, turning back to Kate.
“Apparently, it was a drunk driver and they got hit then spun into an intersection. They were blasted from all sides, but that’s the only information we have right now.” Alec says, consoling Kate.
“This can’t be fucking happening…” The realization of everything I have lost hitting me full force.
“Family of Charlotte Adams?” a small man with a heavy accent calls.
We all step forward together, and he assesses the odd assortment of tattooed and suited men, and Kate in her bathrobe, and nods as if this is a common scene for him. We may not be related by blood, but these people are my family without a doubt.
“I’m Dr. Mandari, one of the trauma surgeons on her case. They are getting her settled in the ICU, and if you want you can sit with her, two at a time. Her injuries are severe, but we managed to stop the bleeding for now, and reset all of her bone fractures- we had to place some plates and pins. She has sustained significant internal injuries, and also a severe head trauma. It really is touch and go at this point. The next forty-eight hours are critical, and I need for you all to prepare yourselves for the worst as its still likely for her to experience organ failure or paralysis due to the extent of her injuries. Her body has been through a great deal. We need to try and get her to wake up once the anesthesia wears off to see if she can breathe on her own, and also run the paralysis testing. Once we get that information, we will need to place her back into a medically induced coma in order for the swelling in her brain to subside. If you’ll follow me, I will show you to the waiting room for ICU and to her room.”
I follow Kate into Charlie’s room, and the sight in front of me ends whatever shred of calm I had. My gut rolls once again, and my heart is splintered at the site of my best friend laying in the bed in front of me. Her small body is covered head to toe in casts and bandages, and her face is so swollen and black and blue she’s not even recognizable. This isn’t happening. It can’t be.
I pull a chair up to the side of her bed and lightly grasp one of her bandaged hands and let it out and sob into her blanket. I don’t know what to do. How do I wake up tomorrow? How do I keep breathing? My life just imploded, and what do I do when my best friend, my rock, may never wake up? I sob into the blanket, knowing without a doubt, part of me, maybe the biggest part, just died too.
***
The beeping of a video chat call wakes me. I’m covered in a fine layer of sweat and there are tears in my eyes… that stupid dream that is like an unending movie reel in my head, still fresh in my thoughts. It’s been almost two years since that night, but somehow I remember every single detail.
“Someone named Thumper keeps sending you messages.” A saccharine voice says, and
I jolt upright in my bed, eyeing the blonde next to me. I check the time seeing that only a few hours have passed since the club, and it’s only a little after eight in the evening. I tend to lose more and more time these days, and it’s beginning to scare the hell out of me.
“You have to go.” I say to the girl. I can’t even remember her name. I can’t remember how I got here, or even why she’s here, but what I do remember is everything else.
“But we were going to have some more fun.” She pouts, holding out her palm that is filled with little pills.
“I’m sorry, but fun time’s over. I don’t want to be a dick here, but please leave. I need you to go.” I say hopping out of bed.
“Just so you know you’re shitty in bed. You passed out before we even had sex. You could barely call it foreplay.” She huffs as she slides back into her dress.
“Ok, that sucks for you. Just give me a bad Yelp review or something.” I say shooing her out the door, and all I can do is be thankful I didn’t get that far with her.
I check my phone, and see four missed video chats from Charlie, but I honestly don’t want her to see me this way so it’s probably for the better I didn’t answer.
My head is pounding, and my heart is still racing from the nightmare I was having. I just need to get some sleep, but that doesn’t exactly come easy these days. I feel like every single, fucking day is an uphill battle and I can’t reach the top no matter how high I climb. How much easier would it be to let the dark consume me? Just to let go? To give up and not feel this way anymore? I spy the bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand, and pop one in my mouth and wash it down with a pull from the bottle of scotch that has become a bedside staple. Laying my head on my pillow, I picture her face in my mind, and without even really having to think about it, I finish that whole bottle of sleeping pills, and let the numbness take over… finally. Nothing.
***
“Jay! Fucking wake up, you asshole. Don’t you fucking leave me too.” The voice is screaming at my head shaking back and forth. I can feel the pressure, but my skin is numb.
I barely register the beating I’m taking. My eyes are trying to focus, but they just keep rolling in my sockets, and my head feels like someone is squeezing it with a vice grip. My ears are ringing, causing my head to pulsate as the sound rattles around inside. Wait. No that’s a baby wailing… what the fuck? Trippy dreams again.
“Jay. Look at me! Come on, you bastard.” This time the slap actually registers, and I know it’s Charlie screaming at me, her voice breaking.
I finally get my eyes to focus somewhat, and she’s straddling me on the bathroom floor… my bathroom floor, with tears running down her face. My head rolls slightly and I see Andrew through the door of my bedroom, holding Fallon who is wailing at the top of her lungs, and a phone pressed to his ear. He catches my eye, and the look he gives me says it all. I really fucked it up this time.
“You son of a bitch. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? To me? What did you take this time?! Huh?” she cries, forcefully pushing herself off of me to stand. Only then do I notice that we are both covered in vomit. My vomit.
I groan, “Jesus, Charlie! Hun, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too Jay. Do you realize how close you were this time? My gut just told me something wasn’t right. Fallon started walking tonight and I wanted you to see. I kept trying to call you, and text you, but you just wouldn’t answer. It isn’t like you to ignore me like that. Thank God I have a key… seriously. The ambulance is on its way. You’re so freaking lucky that Andrew is a doctor and knew what to do.” She says, biting her lip and trying to hold her tears back. She shakes her head and braces herself against the marble countertop.
“Get your shit together. This has got to be the last time, Jay. You need professional help… I’ve tried. I love you more than words… you know that, but right now I really kind of hate you.” She says, and I see it. I believe her, because right now I really hate myself too. I have to stop this…I don’t really want to die. I don’t think.
Leni:
My wrap dress is sopping wet, clinging to my body in the most uncomfortable of ways, like a chafing second skin I just can’t shake. And I smell. Who knew that the water in those in building sprinkler systems smelled that bad? Certainly, not me. A printer in our offices had caught fire spontaneously causing the whole alarm system to go off, the sprinkler system included. Well, they say it caught fire spontaneously, but my money is on Cindy. She has fights with it on a daily basis, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she went full Office Space on it. The thought actually makes me pop a rare smile.
I park my car on the street, and scale the steep steps to our front door, juggling the overloaded plastic grocery bags as the circulation in my fingers is nearly cut off. Ok, I know I could’ve made more than one trip, but let’s be honest. It’s more like my own personal challenge to see how many I can carry at once. I really hope Sam wants pizza for dinner, because that is exactly what he is getting after the day I have had. It is still early yet, maybe I’ll surprise him with that new lingerie set I got later…hopefully that will put him in a good mood for once. What I wouldn’t give for a good night, just one good night. My thoughts scatter, dreaming of a relaxing night at home. I unlock the large wooden door and let myself in, but immediately I know something is off because the TV is on and there are two glasses sitting on the coffee table. Sam shouldn’t be home from work yet.
On shaky legs with a pounding heart, I make my way up the staircase, and I hear it. The unmistakable sounds of two people in the throes of passion. Being the glutton for punishment that I am, I creep down the hallway careful not to make a sound. I’ve gotten pretty good at being invisible over the years, and I peek my head into my bedroom. Our bedroom.
There in my bed is my husband with a beautiful raven haired woman splayed out beneath him as he hammers into her, crying out. He grips her hair in his hands as he’s whispering in her ear, and all I can think is, ‘Damn, she’s got good hair.’”
A sick, hot feeling rolls through my body as my skin prickles and my face heats. I’m kind of at a loss of what to do here. Should I be polite and let them finish, should I cry and throw things, or should I just pretend like this isn’t happening and ignore it?
A cool collected approach wins out, and luckily I can keep the anger and hurt locked up just long enough to go through with it.
I clear my throat loudly, and two sets of surprised eyes find me in the doorway. Sam covers the woman’s body protectively as if I’m some sort of peeping Tom and not just witnessing this act of betrayal going down in my bed.
“Out! Now.” I say firmly, placing my hand on my hip, but really it’s just so I can stop it from shaking.
“Jesus, Lennon. Can you give us a little bit of privacy?” Sam asks, pulling the blanket up to cover the woman.
Did he really just ask me that?
“Are you fucking kidding me, Sam? No I will not give you some privacy. You are my husband. This is my house, this is my bedroom, and that is my fucking bed!” I shout, stomping my foot.
And it is all true. I used nearly all of my inheritance to provide us with this life, and living in Seattle isn’t cheap.
“What are you doing home anyways?” he asks, sliding out of bed and putting his jeans back on.
I stand there just glaring at the woman in my bed. I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Does it matter? Get out of my house, and get her out of my bed. I have to burn the sheets now.” I say storming out of the room. It’s childish, I know, but I’m limited on comebacks right now.
I’m barely out of the room then I hear him say, “Come on baby. We better get out of here before she goes full psycho and starts looking for the knives and razor blades.” His use of endearments makes me want to heave. I don’t even remember the last time he spoke to me with any amount of affection, if ever.
“For me?” her worried voices asks.
I can’t help myself when I call out, “No baby
. For me. Just do yourself a favor and don’t let him drink too much. He isn’t a very happy drunk.” I run down the stairs and out the back door, needing to breathe.
***
I have nothing left. Nothing. No real home, no marriage, no baby, no love, no friends. Nothing. You know I never realized how far gone my marriage was, or maybe I have been ignoring the facts in front of my face on purpose. It wasn’t until last week when I made the decision to file for divorce and release my husband from our sham of a marriage that I learned how he truly felt about me. Depressing, Boring, Disgusting. Those were just a few of the words he used, and I wish I could say he is wrong.
I smash my fist into my bathroom mirror, splintering it into countless pieces. I can’t even stand the sight of myself anymore, so how could I expect someone else to feel something for me other than the disgust I feel when I look at my own reflection? As I stand here staring at the distorted version of myself in the cracked glass, I wonder if this is a more accurate portrayal of who I am… who I have become. Am I really this broken? The answer is yes… I can say that without any doubt. I know at this point I’m just a shell of a woman. Fragile and empty, so pretty on the outside, but so easily crushed under the weight of the world.
I begin to clean up the broken pieces, my fingers relishing in the cutting pain of the glass… itching for more… for a different kind of pain. One I control. One I manage… and own. With blood stained hands, I grip the side of the white porcelain sink. Just one more time… It is all I need to put an end to this incessant, internal ache. Just one more time to end it for good. I sit on the tiled floor, and with unsteady fingers I grab the sharp shard of glass and press it to my skin sighing a deep breath of relief.
“What have I got to lose?!” I scream to nothing… and that’s the answer right there.
Absolutely nothing at all because I’ve already lost myself.
Chapter 1
One Year Later…