Beautifully Damaged

by Gina Sevani

  I knew as much as I needed sleep, I wouldn't be getting it. As soon as I started thinking like this, it usually lasted all night before it gave me a break. The what-ifs tore me apart. I wiped a few tears away and tried to get myself together before I had to wake her up. Closing my eyes, I listened to the clock on the wall tick. It was the only sound in the house. My body ached, and I dreaded moving but she shouldn't stay where she was all night.

  "Grams, wake up, you need to get in bed," I whispered. She mumbled something under her breath but I couldn't make it out.

  "Wake up, woman." I gently shook her shoulder.

  "No." She was so cranky when someone messed with her sleep.

  "Grams, move your booty."

  "Negative, ghost rider, take your scrawny ass to bed."

  "Scrawny ass. You really shouldn't talk like that. Aren't elderly ladies supposed to be sweet and loving?" I laughed.

  She answered me with a fake snore. Oh how I loved that crazy woman. Whatever, I didn't feel like arguing with her. I would try once more.

  "Come on don't make me drag you, I'm exhausted," I pleaded.

  "FINE, fine I'm going." She growled but I heard a little chuckle as well.

  "Love you Grams."

  I finally made it to my room after a quick shower and crawled into my very uncomfortable but warm bed. I was spent and so exhausted that I thought sleep would come easy. However, I was wrong. I hated nights where I lay down and thought about every bad thing that had ever happened in my life. My brain was going wild with thoughts. I couldn't help but question why, even though I knew I shouldn't. I wished countless times that it had been me instead of them. I would trade places in a heartbeat. There was nothing to think about, my life for theirs. Done!

  I thought about how my life could have been so completely different. People could lose someone faster than they could blink an eye and there was nothing that could be done about it. I felt so helpless at times, with no control and I hated it. I absolutely hated it. I'd lost every one who had ever meant anything to me except Grams. I was only twenty one years old. I had never had real friends. Never went to prom, dances, or even had a real date. I never had a cell phone through my high school years. What the hell does that say about my existence? Those things just never seemed important to me.

  I hated school with a passion. I wanted to finish and get out as fast as I possibly could. I hated the drama, the bullies, and the fighting. Kids could be so cruel and they never liked anyone who's different. I was certain my senior year that they thought I was a freak. I felt like I was surrounded by selfish, spoiled rotten kids. Teachers never understood me. After everything that happened, I never felt like I belonged. I'd been popular once. Even enjoyed school and everything that surrounded it but all that had changed.

  Nothing felt the same.

  I wasn't the same. For those people who believed it was better to have loved and lost than to never have known love at all, well we can just agree to disagree on that. Easy to believe something when you haven't experienced it yourself. The pain was unreal and indescribable. Something I'd never ever get over.

  I WOKE UP SCREAMING, wiping and clawing at all of the blood splattered on my face and shirt. I reached for my gun as fast as possible.

  It was just a dream.

  It was just a dream, Ariel.

  I repeated it out loud until I realized I was home and safe. It normally never took me long once I awoke to figure out it was just a dream. Years ago it seemed to take forever for me to get my senses back. It was horrible and painful, slowly reliving everything over again of that horrific day. Searing agony speared my heart as the images of my family's murder flashed through my mind. I took a deep breath and released it slowly, and the torture eased its grip. I rolled out of bed, driven by the need to check on Grams.

  Quietly, I peeked into her bedroom and saw her sleeping peacefully. I re-checked all the locks on the doors. Once I felt as secure as possible, I placed the gun back where it belonged. It was my papa's. When I first moved in with Grams, she still had some of his weapons but had gotten rid of a lot of them. She had kept a few guns locked in a safe and of course I wasn't given that code. I really didn't blame her. My emotions were all over the place, and at times I couldn't even trust myself. Eventually she realized that I was going to be fine or as fine as I could possibly be and she had given me the combination. I told her I would like one close to me, just in case someone broke in. I needed to feel like I could help protect us. I had to have some control. She had hesitated and thought it over for a while but I guess maybe she saw the desperation in my eyes. I pleaded with her to understand and she eventually did.

  Having the gun helped with some of the nightmares. It made me feel more in control somehow. I definitely wouldn't be sleeping, three a.m. and I was wide awake. Soaked in my sweat and I couldn't get the visual of everything out of my head so I decided on another shower, hoping it might help.

  I wiped the fog from the mirror and just stared at myself. Why me? Why did I stay in the car that day? After about twenty minutes of staring at myself and waiting for an answer I would never get, I quietly made some hot chocolate. I found my favorite blanket and lay on the couch. It always helped to change rooms for some reason. Yeah, nights like this sucked.

  THE SMELL OF CINNAMON toast floated through the house and I swore I was going to have to hog tie that woman to her bed to get her to relax more. With a crink in my neck and my back screaming its hatred for me I slowly made my way to the kitchen. I noticed the clock on the wall, wow a whole four hours. Maybe I could sleep a few hours after breakfast.

  "Yum, that smells delicious, thank you but you do know you're going straight back to bed right, it's early."

  "Hog wash, ain't happening, baby doll."

  I smiled at her choice of words.

  "Why do you have to make things so difficult, you need rest, lots of rest. You heard what the doctor said."

  "You should be out there finding Mr. Right not taking care of your old granny. Now I love you and I'll rest whenever I feel like it."

  "Oh, please don't start. You know you have a smart mouth right? You really should work on that. I don't know, it's probably too late being as old as you are and such," I said, grinning at her.

  She laughed wildly and pointed her finger at me. "Ariel Montgomery, you better tread lightly."

  I loved her laugh.

  "I don't know where you get that sassy mouth from young lady."

  "Hmmm I wonder." I smiled and wrapped my arms around her and kissed her cheek.

  "Good morning, Grams."

  "Morning, baby girl. I see you slept on the couch, rough night?"

  "Just couldn't sleep, that's all."

  She grabbed my chin like she'd always done. It was her way of seeing the truth. She made me look her straight in the eye. No barriers, she could see right through me.

  "I'm okay, promise."

  "I love you." She smiled.

  "I love you, Grams."

  "Eat, then try and rest some more, Ariel."

  "Only if you promise to do the same."

  She kissed my forehead as I fixed our plates. I hadn't always been so close to my grams. We had visited, and I loved her, but I hadn't adored and cherished her the way I did now. I had only been a child so the emotions had just been different.

  When you go through things in life, difficult things, it makes you appreciate what life has to offer a whole lot more. I may distance myself from others, and I still feel like I have a lot of hatred in my heart when it comes to this world and the monsters in it but when I loved… I loved hard and poured everything into it. I never took a moment with my family for granted.

  AS I STARTED GETTING dressed for my shift, I stared at myself in the mirror. There was a time in my life when I couldn't even stand to look in it. I had once hated what I saw, an empty, miserable girl who was all alone. I was in a better place than I was a few years ago. Moving forward is hard but I wouldn't give up. I accepted the fact I was probably all kinds of
messed up and would never be the same. However, that didn't mean I couldn't have brighter days. My story would always be a frightening one. I've heard people say that something good and beautiful comes out of tragedy. I wondered if they actually knew how wrong they were.

  My green eyes used to shine much brighter. I had dark circles under my eyes that could use a few coats of concealer. My long, brown hair was boringly straight, although it did have natural ombré highlights all the girls seemed to like. My lips were full and pouty. My daddy used to say I was always pouting even though I wasn't. He knew that too. They were once my favorite feature. All my old friends used to pick on my kissable lips; they would be shocked if they knew the low number of lips I had actually kissed.

  My shoulders were narrow with a much wider set of hips. I was more curvy than skinny. Although my chest was average, I turned to the side and checked out what I was really blessed with. Trish and Xavier liked to talk about my J-Lo booty. I personally believe it should be much smaller. This was starting to turn into something depressing. They say a smile is a girl's prettiest feature. I guess we can't all be perfect. I sighed loudly as I raked my eyes over my body. I looked over my posture. I looked exhausted, mentally, spiritually and physically. My back and shoulders hunched over. I stood as straight and tall as I could. Hell, that actually hurt. At least I loved my outfit: my favorite dark, skinny jeans, tight, black v-neck Dalton's shirt, and black Converses. I quickly finished the little bit of makeup I wore and headed out.

  Eerie shadows filled the empty bar. I wandered to the back where I spotted a table the bussers had missed and cleaned it. My shift went by fast and the tips were great, just the way I liked it. I was extremely busy, which I loved because it kept my mind where it needed to be, and I didn't have much time to pay attention to anything else. Anything else meaning Damon and his hotness. Big Joe would be pissed if he knew I was alone. I had nights when I was in a hurry to get home, but this just wasn't one of them.

  Damon had been on fire but then had left like a bat out of hell once his set was over. I made myself a promise on the way here that I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting to me anymore, so I had done my best to not look at him. I failed quite a few times to begin with but as the night got busier it kept me from looking his way. Every time I caught him looking I looked away like it was nothing. Yes it had taken a whole lot of control but it wasn't impossible and where that control came from I'd no clue. I couldn't figure out why he was interested enough to approach me, but ignoring him was my attempt at putting a stop to whatever relationship he thought he might get.

  I looked around once more and my focus went to the large stage. Most of the lights were turned off, but the ones in the corners were on and aimed toward the stage. Everywhere else was dark so it sucked all my attention. It really was beautiful up there. I looked out the back windows, I could see the water, and the two piers with the lights shining down upon them. Almost the entire back of Dalton's was glass windows where I could see the water from any seat. The water looked so peaceful. Every few seconds I would see an occasional ripple. It was calm but I could still hear it. I have always loved that sound. The lights made the water glisten.

  Suddenly my energy drained, and I sank into one of the chairs near the stage. I buried my head in my hands and rested my forehead against the cold table. Taking deep breaths, I looked at the stage once more. Memories flashed one after another.

  I had cut a portion of music out of my life. I still held on to it but it wasn't the same as before. I used to sing and play every single day. I remembered all the late night talks I had with my family. The goofing off… We would change words to our favorite songs to see which of us could elicit the hardest laughter from the others. Memories of tears when a song really spoke to us. I would sing softly while my parents danced across the living room floor. I could still hear my mom laugh and see the way my dad would look at her like she was the only woman in the entire world. I could hear my little sister's dramatic pleas for them to stop.

  My parents had been very affectionate people. Even at my young age I knew they had something special. My sister used to say it grossed her out because they were so handsy with one another, but she was even younger than me. She just hadn't gotten it yet. I wanted what they had, and back then I used to tell myself I would never settle for less. When someone could see without the shadow of a doubt the love and respect a couple had for each other, now that was something worthy. It was genuine, special and one of a kind. People could hear the words I love you a million times but if the love wasn't shown with actions, they were just words; useless, meaningless, empty words. A love like my parents had could never ever be replaced. I knew for a fact that if they ever parted, the love they had for someone new would never be anything in comparison to what they felt for each other.

  I blinked back tears. It was time to go. I took another long, deep look at the lake and headed to turn the last light off on the stage but something caught my eye.

  Damon's guitar. My heart skipped a beat.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I COULDN'T BELIEVE HE'D ACTUALLY LEFT it. He never left his precious baby. I walked up closer just to admire it. I had never seen one as nice as his. It was a Rainsong, really expensive. The color reminded me of graphite, and it gleamed from the lights. Perfect. The urge to sing and pick it up was overwhelming, but it wasn't mine and with my luck I would definitely damage it somehow. I would probably find a way to break his guitar in half by just barely touching it with my fingertips.

  I wanted that guitar.

  Holy hell it was beautiful.

  Do not touch his guitar Ariel.

  It's not yours.

  Don't touch it don't touch it don't touch it.

  I ran my fingers over the neck of the guitar as tender and slowly as possible.

  Ah hell, no one is here. The little voice inside my head won as I picked up his guitar. I sat on the stool center stage. As much as I loved to sing and play, I didn't think I could ever get used to singing in front of a crowd. Crazy how things change because years ago I wouldn't have cared if anyone else heard me, but now I only played for myself. I would sing for them just as much as if it was only for me. People watching hadn't bothered me at all. That had encouraged me. But maybe that was the difference between being a carefree kid with no troubles and a woman who was surrounded by them.

  I wanted to sing more than anything because that was when I really felt my family. I felt everything good but unfortunately all the pain as well. Every possible emotion. I could see their smiles and hear their voices. I wasn't sure if I was ready to experience all the emotions that it would bring forth. The good ones were great. The bad ones were terrifying. No matter how strong I was, when I thought of them and the good times, I always got flashbacks of that day. I don't know why I couldn't get better control over it. I tried and every time I failed. I couldn't think of them peacefully without memories being completely ruined and it pissed me off.

  I glanced around the room. Everything seemed prettier to me when I was alone. If there was a crowd or it was noisy, the place wouldn't get noticed. No one would really see the beauty in the paintings, or the instruments on stage, even the large mirrors all around.

  Dalton's was beautiful. Huge, elegant, and not what you expect a man like Big Joe to own. It was his treasure and he loved it. I hadn't been sure what to expect years ago when I first saw it.

  Deep breaths. No one can hear you anyway, just sing, Ariel. I strummed the first chords of "My Immortals" and smiled as my fingers caressed the strings that Damon's hands touched. Before I could even get to the chorus of the song, my tears started flowing like always. But I shut my eyes tight and pushed forward. I stopped playing long enough to wipe my tears and I suddenly heard a noise by the front door that sounded like shoes scraping the floor. The fear came. I knew someone was there, I felt it, but I couldn't see a thing from that area. It was entirely too dark.

  Did I lock the door? I know I did.

  "Shi-i-i-i-i
t." I wiped the tears off my face and slowly backed away.

  "Don't stop Ariel, it's just me." I would know that voice anywhere.

  "Damon." I choked on air. I didn't even realize I had been holding my breath.

  "I had no clue you played. Ariel, your voice is amazing."

  I was bent over, one hand on my chest trying to control my breathing as he came toward me.

  "You scared me. I thought you were gonna kidnap me and cut me into tiny pieces." I let out a shaky laugh, but my heart was still racing. I couldn't believe he was listening. Damon finally made it to the stage and took a seat on the piano bench facing me.

  "Nah, I'm not a murderer. If I was going to kidnap you I wouldn't have plans of causing you any harm." A lopsided smile crept over his face.

  Murderer… murderer… murderer. The word I hated so much echoed through my head. My heart slammed against my chest, and the breath left my lungs in a rush like I'd just been punched hard in the stomach.

  I struggled to get my breathing in control for the second time in a matter of minutes. He's joking. It's just a joke. Keep breathing. Jesus. If he didn't think I was a freak before, well that ship sailed… He probably thought I was straight-up batshit crazy.

  "Hey, are you okay?" He angled his head and studied me through narrowed eyes. "I was just playing. I didn't mean to scare you when I walked up."

  Murderer. I loathe the word. Drawing a shaky breath, I tried to force a smile because I couldn't trust my voice to speak. A few seconds or minutes passed with empty silence and he was just simply staring at me with a bewildered expression.