Beautiful Torture

by Emery Jacobs

  I carry her over to the grass and gently lie her on the ground. Then I drop to my knees and lean over her slightly. Her eyes flutter open as she tries to speak, but her words won’t come.

  “Shhh!” I tell her, “Don’t talk. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay,” I whisper. Then I quickly scan her body. No blood anywhere. Not one single drop. God, I hope that’s a good sign.

  “Caleb,” she mumbles as she blinks her eyes a couple of times before they flutter closed

  My hands cup her face. I want her to feel my touch, so she’s not scared. I never want her to be afraid.

  “Help is on its way. Just hang on,” I mutter. Who am I reassuring—her or me? Her body goes limp. And I immediately panic.

  “Piper, Piper. Can you hear me? Please, just hang on. I’m here. I promise I will never leave you again.” My voice is shaky, full of fear—panic. I want to be strong for her, but if the ambulance doesn’t arrive soon, I’m gonna lose my shit.

  Movement in her hands alerts me that she is still alive. When she tries to lift her arms, I place her hands in mine and lift them to my lips.

  Where is the fucking ambulance? I hear sirens, but shit, I’ve been hearing sirens for what seems like fucking forever.

  “Caleb,” she whispers.

  “I’m here, Piper. Right here with you.” I say as I squeeze her hands softly in mine.

  Her eyes open, but only for a couple of seconds.

  The increased noise in the background reassures me that help has finally arrived.

  “Over here!” I scream.

  “I love you, Caleb,” she mumbles before a gurgle escapes her throat. She lets out an audible breath just as her body becomes limp. Blood slowly trickles from her nose, and her eyes open.

  “No! No! No!” I scream, “I love you. I was on my way to your apartment to tell you. I love you, Piper. You can’t leave me now!”

  Bile rises from my gut and makes its way to my throat. I hunch over away from her before I empty all the contents of my stomach onto the side of the road. I run the back of my hand across my mouth and try to get my emotions in check before I completely lose it. She can’t be dead. This is not fucking happening.

  “Please, please, don’t leave me,” I beg before screaming toward the voices behind me, “Dammit! Get the fuck over here, now! She needs help!”

  Finally, two guys dressed in blue emergency personnel uniforms carrying bags rush to my side.

  “Sir, you need to let her go…”

  Those are the only words I hear, but the man with the dark hair continues to yell. His mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out. So, I stand and walk away from the team of men trying to save Piper.

  My breathing is rapid. My mind moves a million miles a minute as I listen to the paramedics scream, “Clear!” Then I hear, “No pulse.”

  I’m not a dumbass. No motherfucking pulse equals death. My legs are shaky as I take a couple of steps toward the mangled vehicles. It wasn’t Jack who crossed the center line. It was the drunk. His car sits on the wrong side of the road—smashed to hell, but that motherfucker is still alive. He’s drawing air into his lungs with every breath. He has a pulse, and Piper doesn’t.

  The drunk—where the fuck…I scan the area until I see him. He’s still on the shoulder of the road. Only now, he’s sitting on the ground with his face buried in his hands. All thoughts of what’s right and wrong leave me. My body goes numb, and my feet race toward him. Once I’m there, I bend over and grab his arm jerking him up. He looks at me with dark, bloodshot eyes.

  “You fucking killed her. You piece of shit. You fucking killed her…”

  My voice trails off as I draw back my fist. When it makes contact with his face, he stumbles, but I’m not letting him get away so easily. I grab his collar and throw him to the ground. He flops around like a fucking fish out of water, but before he’s able to understand the reality of what’s happening to him, I’m on top of him swinging, jabbing, and punching his face. Until there is so much blood, I can’t tell whether it’s his or mine. My eyes blur, but it’s not from the rage. It’s tears. My eyes are full. Full of my fucking tears. I can’t remember the last time I cried from sadness, from anger, from fear, but tonight, it’s from all three.

  When I bring my arm back for probably swing number fifteen or twenty—at this point, I’ve lost count—I meet resistance. Two strong hands reach underneath my arms and lift me from the fucking asshole, the one who has ruined the rest of my pathetic life.

  “Stop swinging. That is unless you want to go to jail.” I know immediately who the voice belongs to—the cop. I take a deep breath before relaxing just a little so he won’t arrest me. Jail is the last place I want to go tonight.

  My breathing slows, and I hold my hands up in front of me before saying, “Okay, I’m good.” He releases me, and I tumble to the ground.

  “Get up, kid,” he hollers.

  “I’m trying. Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m done. I won’t attack the fucking bastard who killed Piper. Just let me go.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s thick and full of emotion.

  “Look, I don’t know what your relationship is to anybody in this accident tonight, but from what I can tell, you have a connection. And this has obviously been extremely traumatic for you. Why don’t you let me call somebody to come pick you up?”

  “No, I don’t need you to call anybody,” I say.

  I maneuver my body to a sitting position with my feet on the ground, and my knees bent. I inhale deeply and rest my forehead in my hands. I’ve really gotta get the fuck out of here.

  I manage to lift my head and stare directly at the cop. The same one who arrived at the scene when I did. He’s looking down at me with pity in his eyes. And I admit, at this moment, I am a fucking pathetic mess.

  Then I remember Jack. I have no idea if he is dead or alive. I press my hands into the pavement and push myself to a standing position. For some reason, my movement triggers the cop to take a couple of steps in my direction. I stumble back and hold my hand up between us.

  “I said I’m good. I just need to get out of here. I don’t need help from you or anybody else,” I mumble.

  He simply nods, turns around, and walks away. That was fucking easy. I take notice of the scene one last time. There is nothing left but mangled metal. No bodies. No drunk in the ditch. Only those left to clean up the remains of the death and destruction that happened here tonight.

  I’ve been so wrapped up in my own torment that I missed the paramedics carrying Piper away.

  I glance over my shoulder before yelling toward the small crowd of people, “What about the driver of the truck? The guy—is he okay?”

  “Yeah, his injuries didn’t appear to be life threatening. But the girl…”

  I don’t want to hear what I already know. So, I block out all sound as I turn toward my SUV. Once inside I focus only on the road in front of me. Never looking back. Because I don’t need a reminder that my soul died on the shoulder of this highway along with the only girl who I’ve ever loved.

  PART II

  NOW

  Chapter 3

  Present Day

  I take in a deep breath as the glass door slides open. Miles and miles of blue sky greet me as I step over the threshold into the first day of the rest of my life.

  “Remember, Caleb. You are the only person in control of your destiny. I believe in you. And I’m excited to see where this new day will take you,” says a soft female voice. A voice that I have become familiar with over the last sixty days. She wraps her small hand around my arm and squeezes it gently.

  “Thanks for everything, Dr. Elliott. I have a great feeling about this. I mean this new life of mine.”

  I try to be positive when, in reality, I’m scared shitless. This day is big for me. It’ll be the first time I’ve been sober in the last seven years. Of course, other than the time I’ve spent here at the Spring Forest Addiction and Recovery Center. Drinking and taking whatever I could get my hands on were the
two things I was always good at—it helped me function—get through my fucking shitty life—but now, everything has changed. I know if I don’t make this change permanent, I will die. Hell, I did die…almost. And if I didn’t learn anything else in my rehabilitation, I now know my life is worth living.

  “Don’t thank me. You did all the work,” she says with a smile.

  I turn and make my way down the walkway toward the parking lot.

  I breathe deeply as I take in my surroundings. No, I haven’t been a prisoner in the rehab facility for the last sixty days. We went out on day trips. I’ve seen the sun and the rain. Heard the thunder, trains running down the tracks, and the millions of cars from the nearby freeway. But today is different. I’m ready to live my life without the daily need for drugs and alcohol.

  I continue down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. My Aunt Maria should be waiting. She’s been my saving grace during this entire nightmare.

  As soon as I step off the walkway, I notice a black Camaro parked in the first parking space closest to the facility. What is he doing here? Before I take another step, he’s out of the car—walking toward me. Fucking Stone. The last person I want to see on the first day out of recovery.

  The memory of what happened that night just a few short months ago hangs loosely in my mind. I had only been back in town a couple of days when I showed up at his house. It was Annie’s birthday party. Everybody was there—including Jack. I run my hand through my hair and cringe at the thought of my fucking stupidity. It wasn’t my finest performance. Not even one of my best. But it happened, and I can’t change it. All I can do is apologize and move on.

  “You look good, man,” he says as he makes his way toward me. He hates me. He has to. After all, he’s still friends with Jack. And I can only imagine the conversations that go on in the shop about me. Stone owns Southern Stain. The tattoo shop where I worked years ago…with Jack. And according to my buddy Dane, Jack still works there.

  “Thanks?” I don’t know what he wants from me or why he’s here, but he doesn’t seem to be angry.

  “Is this all you have?” He looks down at the bag I forgot I was holding.

  “Yeah, why?” I ask.

  “Wanted to be sure you didn’t need any help getting loaded up.”

  My life has been shit over the last eight years. All the turmoil—the highs and lows—and then the night I finally hit rock bottom. Death. It’s inevitable, but I still have a lot of time left. I plan on living it as honest and shit free as possible. And this new life of mine starts today. So, no dancing around the subject or playing games or whatever this is. I cover my eyes with my hand to block the sun as I scan the parking lot. No red Toyota Camry and no Aunt Maria.

  So I ask, “Why are you here?”

  He pushes his sunglasses onto his head—away from his eyes. I don’t like what I see…pity. Stone is a decent guy. Hell, he gave me my first job as a tattoo artist at Southern Stain. I guess he had no idea hiring me was going to be one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Not only did I manage to fuck up Jack’s life, but I just walked away from my job. Without telling anybody, including Stone.

  “To pick you up. Why did you think I was here?”

  “Where’s Aunt Maria?” I ask.

  Aunt Maria is my dad’s sister. She has always been my safe place. She took me in when no one else wanted me. And how did I repay her? The night Piper died, I packed up and left without so much as a good-bye.

  “She’s waiting for you at home. I told her that you and I have some life planning to do. So, I agreed to pick you up,” Stone says.

  “Life planning?” I chuckle and then continue, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve already had an intervention. Remember, I’m walking away from it now.”

  “Just get in the car, and we’ll talk about it on the drive to your aunt’s house.”

  After throwing my bag in the back, I slide into the passenger’s seat of his Camaro. I’m ready to find out why he’s really here and what his plans are for my life.

  “So, tell me,” I prompt before glancing over at him.

  “Look, Caleb. I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs.

  “How’s that? Because you’ve only seen me once since I walked away from Southern Stain seven years ago. And the one time you happen to see me I was wasted. So, again, how can you possibly know what I’m thinking?” I turn my head toward the passenger window, taking in the city of Houston as we drive. This was once my home. I love this place.

  “I didn’t pick you up to argue. I want to help you start over, and I promised your aunt I would talk to you about what your plans are. So, do you have any…plans?” he asks.

  I pull my gaze from the window before looking at Stone.

  “I guess I’ll go back to work with Dane over at Hard Ink. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you for a job if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not fucking stupid,” I tell him.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea for you to stay in Houston after everything that’s happened?” he asks.

  “What other choice do I have? I’m not going back to Vegas. That place nearly killed me.”

  “You do have another choice,” Stone explains, “I’ve already discussed it with Maria, and she agrees that you don’t need to stay here. I understand you’re not the same person you were before going into rehab, but you being in this city…” He shakes his head without finishing the sentence. I know exactly what he’s insinuating. Jack and Jovie live here, and I don’t need to be in the same city with them.

  God-I can’t believe Piper’s little sister is old enough to be in college. She always talked about her baby sister Jovie, but I had never met her. Now, she’s all grown up—and with Jack.

  I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. The night I overdosed, I had called Jovie to try to explain everything. I wanted her to know the truth. That I loved her sister, and she didn’t die alone. That I had held her as she took her last breath. I was so fucked up that I barely remember talking to her. I still, to this day, don’t know how I ended up with her phone number.

  “What other choice?” I ask.

  “I have a buddy who owns a shop in New Orleans. He needs another artist. I put in a good word for you, and he’s agreed to give you a job,” Stone says.

  I run my hand through my short hair before glancing at Stone. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the road.

  “Helping me. I should be the last person you want to help. Especially after I showed up at your house back in February acting like a fucking lunatic. Oh, by the way, sorry about that,” I mumble.

  I lower my gaze and stare at the dark leather seat. He’s right, I have to go. Even though I love this city, I can’t stay. Too much bad shit went on here.

  “You’re a good artist, and I know you’ll do a good job. And I’m a firm believer that everybody deserves a second chance,” he says before glancing in my direction. Then he continues, “Just remember, all I did was get you the job. The rest is up to you.”

  Starting over in a brand new city with a clear mind is exactly what I need. But is New Orleans a place where somebody in recovery needs to live—to start over? Probably not, but there will be temptation everywhere. I will always battle the addiction. It’s part of who I am.

  Stone pulls his car into the narrow driveway. He rolls to a stop near the small two-bedroom brick house that I once called home. My 4Runner is under the shed with the trailer attached and loaded with my black and silver vintage Harley Fat Boy.

  “The guy’s name is Smitty. His place is on Toulouse Street—The Drunken Peacock. It won’t be hard to find because it’s the only tattoo shop on that street. And before you ask—yes, it is in the middle of downtown New Orleans, but it’s all I got. And, right now, getting out of Houston is your number one priority. If it doesn’t work out then—without sounding like a dick—you’re on your own,” Stone says.

  “Is that all I need to know?” I ask.
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br />   “There’s an apartment above the shop. It’s small, but it’ll be enough for you. At least for now. Maria paid the first month’s rent, so I guess all you need to do now is get loaded up and on the road.”

  “Thanks, Stone. For everything,” I tell him.

  “Hang on,” he says. Then he opens the console and grabs a single key.

  “Here,” he mutters as he gives me the key. Then he continues, “This is to the apartment. You can only get in from the outside so nobody can access it from inside the shop. There is a small alley next to the building--that’s where you’ll find the stairwell leading to the door. Also, there is enough room to park your 4Runner in the alley; your bike will probably be safer behind the building. Everything else should be self-explanatory.”

  “I appreciate it,” I tell him.

  “Good luck, man. If you need anything, shoot me a text. My number’s still the same,” he says.

  I nod in his direction before closing my hand, securing the key. Then I open the door and climb out of the car. Stone grabs my bag from the back seat and tosses it to me. He looks in my direction before saying, “Glad everything worked out for you, man. Just promise me you’ll stay clean.”

  “You have my word,” I say before closing the car door.

  He backs out down the driveway and away from the house. I’m sure everything that Stone has done for me is because of my aunt, but I’m thankful. Because he’s right. I can’t stay in Houston.

  I turn toward the house and take notice of Aunt Maria waiting for me on the porch. I rush toward her without hesitation. I barely make it up the three steps to the house before she pulls me into a hug.

  “Caleb,” she whispers as she squeezes me tightly.

  “Thank you for saving me,” is all I can manage to say as tears fill my eyes.

  She releases me from the hug and steps back. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s looking at me as if she can’t believe I’m really here.

  “Come on, Aunt Maria. Stop it. All of this emotion is making me sad. I don’t like it. Let’s go inside and make sure I have everything I need because I’m heading out first thing in the morning.”