The Certainty of Violet & Luke

by Jessica Sorensen

  So many questions, ones that I should say aloud so we can finally talk about them. But I’m not ready to let go of Luke, my security blanket, my …

  There are so many words that flow through my head which I can barely process, so instead I seek a distraction. My favorite distraction.

  ‘Kiss me please.’ I practically sound like I’m begging, but I can’t take it back so I just roll with it.

  He can see it in my eyes too, the avoidance, my attempt to get around talking about the emotional baggage I keep locked inside me. He starts to open his mouth to say who knows what, probably something that will make me feel more and cause me to panic even more, I’m guessing. But I silence him as I lean up and press my lips to his, so aggressively we knock teeth. It’s anything but sexy and hot, however I’ve never really given a shit about that stuff and there’d be no point in starting now.

  Kissing him almost desperately and pulling at his hair, I lift my head up and swing my leg over his side, forcing him to lie flat on his back so I can straddle him. I keep our lips sealed as I run my fingers up and down his tattooed chest, continuing my exploration of his lean muscles until I reach the top of his boxers.

  ‘Violet,’ he says through groans as I slip my hand beneath his waistband. ‘Maybe we … we shouldn’t …’ His head tips back and I put a sliver of space between our lips, watching him starting to lose control.

  ‘You know, I’d be hurt by your protests, but,’ I slip my hand further into his boxers and rub his hard on, ‘It’s pretty clear your words don’t match what you really want.’

  He grips my waist, as if securing me in place, either keeping me near, or allowing himself to have control enough over the situation that he can bail out whenever he wants. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to … I just … don’t think we should …’ He searches my eyes for something and I’m guessing doesn’t see it because in the end he seems disappointed. ‘Not when you’re upset.’

  ‘I’m not upset.’ I scowl at him. ‘Why do you always think that whenever I want to have sex?’

  He presses his lips together to restrain whatever’s on his mind. I seize the opportunity to slant back, tug my dress off, and toss it aside so I’m only in my bra and panties.

  ‘I promise this has nothing to do with anything else than me wanting to get laid.’ Liar. Liar. Liar. And a bad one at that. I know it – he knows it. But he’ll give in – he always does. And part of me might love him for it and part of me hates myself for doing it to him, using sex as a temporary replacement for my adrenaline addiction.

  An exhale later, he’s pulling me to him and as our lips reconnect with a blazing spark of heat, I feel a split second of inner peace, like maybe this is really what I want, that I’m not just trying to bury my feelings by having sweaty sex. The feeling dissipates however, the moment I come to the conclusion that maybe it’s more than just sex. Denial. I’m living – dying in it. But I fear the truth won’t set me free – it’ll kill me. So instead I focus on kissing Luke, basking in the sensation of his hands wandering all over every inch of my body, leaving hot trails of heat across my skin. The way he keeps moaning my name every time I touch his skin and bite his flesh drives my mind into a state of euphoria. We don’t hurry, taking our time, but eventually it feels as though I’m going to combust with need and I end up peeling the rest of my clothes off. Luke follows my lead, taking his boxers off.

  Suddenly, he pauses. ‘Wait … do we need—’

  I cut him off by covering his mouth with my hand. ‘I’ve been on the pill for a few weeks now, so we’re good.’

  He sucks in a breath, then seconds later he’s flipping me on my back and slipping deep inside me. He takes my leg and hitches it over his hip as he thrusts in and out of me. Over and over again until I let out a soft cry, my nails digging into his shoulder blades. For a moment I’m gone. For a moment, I feel like everything is going to be okay. For a moment, I’m dropped into a blissful illusion where I’m free from everything and Luke is right there with me. But almost as quickly as the relief came, I crash back to reality. Luke has stilled inside me, his face buried in my neck, his sweaty chest pressed against mine. I can feel every heartbeat, every breath he takes. I count each one, try to match my own breathing to his. Content. I feel content and I want to ask him to never move.

  Just stay still. Forever. Please.

  Yet if I did dare utter those irreversible words, that’d just be me trying to live in a fairytale and I’ve lived too much to believe in such things. So I keep silent and eventually Luke pulls out of me, giving me one last deep kiss before he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling with his arm draped over his head. He doesn’t say anything, lost in his thoughts, drowning in some sort of internal agony that makes me feel guilty since I probably put it there. I want to say something to him, to take that worried expression off his face, to tell him I’m sorry I’m so broken and that I’ll try to fix myself. But I can’t find the words, not knowing where they exist, so instead I take the coward’s way out and utter, ‘Goodnight’. Then I shut my eyes and let my nightmares slowly drown me.

  Chapter 4

  Violet

  I’m standing in the middle of dried up trees and grass, wilting rose bushes, and rows and rows of cracked tombstones. The sky is so dark it’s nearly black and ash falls from the sky like snow.

  I know why I’m here, what I’m looking for, even though I don’t want to find it. A certain tombstone belonging to someone I care about and fear losing. I wander aimlessly through the cemetery, trying to fight the need to go to a specific tombstone, the one tucked in the corner beneath the only tree flourishing. But finally I reach it and have to look down and read the words engraved on the ash-covered stone.

  ‘Luke Price,’ I read his name aloud as I fall to the ground, ash falling down on me. Tears slip from my eyes, but they’re black and stain my skin like ink, stain my dress. ‘No … No … I can’t lose him. Can’t do this again. I can’t lose someone again.’ My head falls as I sob. ‘Please don’t let me be alone again.’ But the hollow sound of the world around me is the only response I get.

  I’m once again ripped out of a nightmare, gasping for air as I bolt upright in the bed. I nearly black out from the lack of oxygen, struggling to shove the nightmare out of my mind, but it consumes my thoughts.

  It’s the fear of being alone, of losing Luke, of someone else I care about leaving me. Just dreaming about it feels like it killed me, what would happen to me if he really did leave me? Or worse, something terrible happened to him?

  I lie soundlessly in bed for a while, so I don’t wake Luke. Usually I wake him up with my gasping ritual, but he must be super-tired this morning. I stare up at the ceiling, telling myself that it’s just another damn dream and to get over it. That Luke’s not buried under the ground in his final resting place. That he’s right here beside me, breathing rather loudly, shirtless, his rock-solid chest inked like a canvas, and that I’m not going to lose him. But the problem is, my parents are buried under the ground, and it reminds me of how I felt right after I lost them, back when I would allow myself to feel the sting their deaths left behind. How afraid I was that I’d end up alone in the world and how painful it was when I realized my worry was reality – that I was alone. I got used to it, though, adapted the best that I could. What would happen though if I lost Luke suddenly? Could I handle it again?

  My fears keep me away until the sun comes up and fills our room with bright sunlight. Luke starts to wake up, turning over and rubbing his eyes before he sits up. His jawline is scruffy, in need of a shave, and there are dark circles under his brown eyes. ‘How you feeling this morning?’ he asks me with a yawn. He must see something in my eyes he doesn’t like because concern masks his expression. Damn eyes. They’ve been giving me away lately.

  I look away to avoid eye contact with him. ‘Good, other than the killer headache I have.’ I know my hangover isn’t what he was referring to, but I don’t want to talk about anything else. About last night. A
bout my nightmares. About me using sex as a distraction.

  It takes him a beat or two to answer. ‘You think you’re up for class today?’

  My mood plummets even more at the idea of stepping into the outside word, full of looks, stares, and questions – too much to even picture. I shake my head and roll to my side, facing the wall instead of him. ‘Not today.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ His hand finds my back, his fingers stroking the space between my shoulder blades. ‘I could make something for you to eat … maybe that would help.’

  I shudder from his touch – always do – but refuse to move. ‘Yeah, I’m sure … I just want to stay home and rest.’

  ‘But … I don’t like leaving you here alone.’

  ‘Seth’s here, so I’m not alone.’

  ‘Yeah … but he might have class later today.’

  I glance over my shoulder at him. ‘I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.’

  ‘Still … I don’t like you being here without someone watching you. And Seth … As much as I like him, he’s not the most responsible person. I’d rather I just watch you. I’d do a better job.’ He gets this funny look on his face as if he’s realizing something that baffles him.

  I turn and place my hand on his cheek. ‘Luke, I’ll be fine. I won’t leave the house or anything without telling anyone.’ I tuck my hands under my head and bite my lip until it bleeds because it takes the emotional pain briefly away. ‘You can’t watch me forever and it’s not your responsibility to do so.’

  ‘Like hell I can’t,’ he mutters under his breath as I turn on my side. It grows silent between us. He wants to say more – I want to. Yet we both don’t – can’t.

  Eventually, his lips brush the back of my neck, right over the two stars tattooed on my skin, each representing a person I’ve lost in my life – my mother and father. ‘I’d feel so much better if I was here with you.’

  ‘And I feel so much more guilty if you missed another class with me,’ I reply, clutching onto the black with he places a gentle kiss over each star.

  He nuzzles his nose against my neck and sighs in a surrendering manner. ‘Fine, but call me if you need anything. And keep the door locked,’ he says. ‘I’ll tell Seth to keep an eye on you and promise me you’ll check in with him.’

  I open my mouth to protest. ‘I’ll just be in the house, like I said, I’m not—‘

  ‘I know you won’t go anywhere,’ he says, placing a hand over my lips. ‘But just please just promise me that you’ll check in with him so that I can have peace of mind.’

  The plea in his voice makes it hard not to agree so I nod, then he reluctantly climbs out from the bed, making the mattress lift with the lack of his weight and making the bed feel empty and cold. I hear his footsteps cross the narrow room and he stops in front of the dresser.

  ‘There’s something else I need to tell you,’ he says as he rummages through the drawer for some clothes.

  The edge in his voice makes me hesitant to answer. ‘Okay …’

  ‘It’s about last night… After we got home.’ He shuts the drawer then just stands there in the middle of the room. I can’t fully see him other than out of the corner of my eye, but he’s making me uneasy. Did I do something strange last night? Well, more strange than normal for me? Did I speak about the dream maybe, when I was half asleep or something? ‘There was a box on the doorstep when we got home from the party.’

  The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and goosebumps erupt across my arms. ‘And who was the box from?’ I ask, even though deep down already know – from the monster haunting my dreams. I’m just hoping – wishing – that maybe Luke will prove me wrong.

  He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking below his weight and the emptiness I’d been feeling diminishes again. ‘It didn’t say exactly who sent it … but there was a photo of you inside … ‘He puts his hand on my back and I feel a tremble in his touch. ‘Please just come to class with me.’

  I turn all the way over and face him. The fear in his eyes tells me I should be afraid; that whatever was in the box I should be afraid of. But I won’t let myself do that, feel the fear. ‘What was in the box, Luke? ‘

  He keeps his intense brown eyes on me. ‘I already told you … a photo of you.’

  I steadily maintain his gaze. ‘And what was I doing in this photo?’

  He searches my eyes for something and I wonder what he sees exactly. Someone lost and scared or the façade I’m trying to wear, the one I’ve been wearing since I was five. ‘I just want to protect you.’ His fingers spread across my cheek and warm my skin. ‘From all the bad and ugly in the world.’

  ‘I already know too much about the bad and the ugly to be protected. And it’s better to know than to be in the dark,’ I tell him, although I’m not sure I believe my own words. There are many times in my past where I’ve questioned whether it was better to stay in the dark, starting out with when I was five and in the basement where my parents were killed. If I had stayed there until someone came to the house, I’d never have seen my parents dead. The memory of the blood, and my father’s final words, wouldn’t be branded in my head, like a hot iron rod singeing flesh. And then maybe the foster families wouldn’t have been so afraid of me. Then maybe I would have grown up with a family and I wouldn’t be here in this moment. But see, that’s the problem. Because deep down, my heart wants to be here with Luke, which means all of that had to happen. Destiny, right? Well, I’ve been conflicted over destiny a lot lately. Because it led me here to Luke, but it took so much for me to get here. To go back would mean to lose Luke, but to admit that I wouldn’t want to go back would feel like a huge betrayal to my parents. And if I did finally accept just how much I care for Luke, I’d be accepting that something might happen – maybe destiny again – that would rip him from my life and I’d lose him perhaps forever. And I’m not sure if I could handle that – handle destiny again. All I really want is … well certainty I guess.

  ‘You were in this room … in the photo.’ Luke finally divulges and there’s a tremble in his fingers. ‘I think he took it from across the street.’

  Fear blazes through me, but I extinguish it quickly. Bury it, dammit! ‘So you think it was Preston who left the box and took the picture,’ I state emotionlessly, refusing to feel anything toward Preston, whether it hatred or fear. I will not let him get to me. Won’t think of him. But just trying not to think of him makes my blood boil. My fingers curl inward, my fingernails stabbing my palms, cutting flesh, slicing through the pain, distracting it into something else. ‘That’s new and bold of him. Beats sending texts I guess.’

  ‘I’m not sure it was him, but …’ He trails off, his expression sinking.

  ‘But I only have one stalker,’ I finish for him, my voice sounding empty. Empty, just like me. I hate it, hate myself for everything I’ve done. Why can’t I just let it go and change?

  Luke starts to say something, but I cut him off. ‘You should go. You’re going to be late for class.’ I roll over to my side again and face the wall.

  ‘Violet, I really don’t think you should stay here,’ he says, his fingers falling from my face.

  ‘We already talked about this. I’m not going anywhere and Seth’s here. I’ll be fine.’ There’s a forced iciness to my tone so he will leave me alone. I hate that I have to do it, but if I don’t I know eventually he’ll convince himself that he has to stay here and look after me and that’s not what I want for him.

  He doesn’t say much after that and I lay still, pretending I’ve dozed off again while he gets dressed. Before he walks out of the room, he gently kisses the back of my head. ‘I’ll be back as soon as classes are over.’

  ‘Don’t you have to work tonight?’ I ask. A couple of weeks ago, Luke got a job at the diner with the help of Greyson, helping out in the bar. I was a little worried what this would do for his recovery, but he assures me he’s fine for now, although he wants to get a new job as soon as he can.

  ‘No, not u
ntil this weekend.’ He grabs his diabetic kit and stuffs it into his backpack, along with his books.

  ‘Okay, see you later then.’

  He whispers something about being safe then briefly waits, as if either wanting me to say something or wanting to say more, an excruciating almost painful habit that’s developed between us. And just like always, nothing ever gets said and he ends up leaving in silence.

  I only move again when I hear the front door shut and then enough time’s passed that I know he’s not coming back. Hopefully, by the time her returns home later today I’ll have gotten myself collected enough that I can pretend I’m okay with everything. Put on my smiles. Skip around, clean the house. Be drunkenly stupid, pretty much, because that’s what it takes now.

  After about an hour ticks by, I get out of bed and take a quick shower then pull on a pair of holey jeans and a faded Silverstein t-shirt. I put my hair up in a messy bun and then head back to the room, passing by Seth’s bedroom door. It’s cracked and I can see that he’s sleeping in his bed. Greyson’s gone, probably to work.

  I wander back into my bedroom, lock the door behind me and turn on my playlist and ‘People Live Here’ by Rise Against clicks on. I go over to my bed, lie flat on the floor, and crawl halfway under it until I reach the box I’m looking for. Once my fingers brush the box, I slide out with it in my hands and get onto the bed.