by Megan Hand
I’m nothing without you. I’ve felt that way for a long time, but I thought that was a dangerous way to think and didn’t want to end up one of those girls that didn’t know who they were without their boyfriends.
I was wrong, Jay. I was wrong for shutting you down all those times you tried to talk about one of us transferring schools. You’ve never hidden from me that you’re nothing without me. I only wish now that I could tell you exactly how I feel.
You’re my butterfly. You always were.
As soon as I knew I could turn your heartache into a smile, I was addicted. I wanted to always be the one to put that smile there. That shine in your eyes. Because I knew it was for me and no one else.
It’s selfish, really. But if loving you is selfish, then so be it.
I remember the first time your sixteen-year-old chapped and inexperienced lips touched mine. A lightning bolt struck my heart. I’d never felt that before, and I just knew. Like the first time your shaky, vulnerable hands ran through my hair, telling me it was “soft as goose feathers.” What boy says that? Only you. Soft as goose feathers…no other words have been able to make me giggle and liquefy my heart into a puddle at the same time. I still laugh sometimes when I think about it.
I remember the first time you came to my house. We sat on my front porch and talked for three hours about nothing and everything. You touched your fingertip to mine. I remember begging Jesus of the Heavens that you wouldn’t be able to hear my heart beating like a freaking racehorse.
You gave the goofiest yet amazingly uncanny impersonation. With our fingertips touching, you said, “E.T., phone home.” It was dorky. I couldn’t have cared less. In that moment, I knew. I didn’t have to phone home because I’d already found it with you.
I remember the first time you wrapped me up in your arms and told me I was safe. I still feel that way, Jay. My heart is safe with you, and I know you feel the same.
If I don’t see you again...thank you. For choosing me.
These are futile words from a rambling mind, but they mean no less than if I were to say them in person. They are my final goodbye. I may not get a real one.
For a countless time tonight, I reawaken, but it’s different, new. There’s a light, it’s not moonlight, and my heart sputters awake to a sound.
Heavy breathing. Light moans.
This time I do feel a pinch of adrenaline fire through me, a bit of that hopeless edge wearing away.
I blink. Blink, blink, blink. Compartments are turning back on. “Who’s there?” My voice is crackly and raw.
“It’s me,” he groans.
Oh. My God. My muscles and bones snap with renewed energy. I painstakingly ignore the aching thud in my head and eye and use my chin to lever my body to my left side to find the voice. “You’re here,” I whisper.
Trigger laughs, a pitiful ripple without humor, and he starts to cough.
My eyes go wide. “Shit, Trigger, you look like shit.”
He’s sitting against the wall near me, hands bound behind him. His hair and face are wet with sweat, blood, and probably tears, all mixed together. One eye is puffy. Running from his nose are two streams of bloody mucus, drizzling down his neck onto his designer T-shirt, the one I tossed on his bed today. The shirt is covered in blood. There’s more blood on it than on his face.
He laughs again. This time it’s more of a weep. “Yeah. We fucked up. Well, I fucked up.”
Hearing “fucked” come out of his mouth doesn’t sound so unnatural as he sounded earlier when he said “shit.” As if over the course of his one day of debauchery and downslide into moral decay, he’s become the type of person that says fucked like he’s said it since he stopped breastfeeding. This is not good.
My voice is deformed with panic. “Where’s Jay?”
“He left.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head. “We had a plan.” He slams his head several times against the wall. “We had a fucking plan!”
“Whoa, whoa! Slow down. Tell me.” Something just occurs to me. “And how did I not hear you come in? Who brought you here?”
He cries, shaking his head again. “Doesn’t matter. It’s all over now. It’s all over.”
God, he looks stoned. “Did they drug you?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter.” He leans his head back, and his eyes roll side to side. “Doesn’t…fucking…matter.”
“No!” I scream. “It does fucking matter! What happened to Jay?”
Goddamn, my head hurts!
Trigger’s eyes keep rolling but he talks, his voice getting weaker by the second. “He tried. For you, Lila. He really did try. He doesn’t…” His voice trails off.
I think that’s the first time Trigger has said my name. “He doesn’t what?” I prompt. “Tell me.” I push my head into the mattress, hugging my knees to my chest as I roll onto my shins. Finally, I’m in a seated position with my legs tucked under me, but dizziness hits instantly, and I collapse back to my side.
Shit. I can’t help Trigger. I can’t help Jay. I can’t even get on my feet! Don’t cry, Lil. You wasted those tears before. Now you need the energy!
Sometimes I wonder where those pep talks come from. Are they really your own voice or one from the heavens, just meant to torture you when you can’t follow through? Because I do start crying. I can’t help it. My mind is telling me no, but my body doesn’t listen.
I cry. Trigger cries. It’s useless because neither of us can do anything to comfort the other.
Trigger sucks in a rattling breath through his teeth. That breath took a lot of effort. He’s trying to contain himself. To be strong for me?
“Don’t do it, Lila,” he croaks.
“What?”
“Just don’t. He’s…he’s…”
I think maybe he’s about to pass out. Now I’m worried he has a life-threatening injury, not just what I can see.
What if he’s bleeding internally? I need to help him!
Rolling onto my knees again, I shake my head and squeeze my eyes tight to chuck out some of the dizzies. My head throbs, but a few seconds later, I’m still on my knees.
I slide my right leg a few inches forward, then I move the left. The mattress bends unevenly, and vertigo plays a nasty game of bongos on my skull, sending me into a nosedive onto the carpet. I’m unable to turn my head in time. My cheek gets the brunt of it.
I’m tired, weak, and hurt. Honestly, I don’t know if I can do anything once I get to him, but I tell him anyway, “I’m coming. Don’t go to sleep.” At least I know that’s the first thing you should tell any victim with a head injury.
Although, haven’t I defeated the purpose of my own words several times tonight? Yes, but you had no choice. You couldn’t have stayed awake by yourself.
Maybe.
This internal argument isn’t helping. I have to help him stay awake.
I can’t see his face, and he’s not responding.
“I said don’t go to sleep!” Hopefully, putting my own touch of bossy sass on it will wake him up.
It does. He moans. “I’m awake.”
“Okay.” Now I just need to figure out how to get back to my feet, or knees, or whatever works. “I’m coming, I promise. I just need to…”
I’m struggling to my knees again when I hear the doorknob jiggling. The door opening. Footsteps on the carpet. My head comes up. I face him.
“Well, if it isn’t Wonder Woman. Fuckin’ love of my life.” Alpha smirks.
That last sentence blurs into one long slur. He seems very blasé compared to the hulking monster he was earlier. His one good eye is bloodshot, the other is purple and swollen. My handiwork. His whole face is a visual Lila Masterpiece.
Being here with him is very familiar yet different.
I yelp as he yanks me by the roots of my hair. His other hand grips my shoulder, and he tosses me rag-style back to the mattress. Stepping over to the window, he lights up a cigarette and gazes out, blowing smoke at the glass.
Trigger’s quiet, but he’s not going to sleep anytime soon. I can tell by the alertness in his eyes. Now that Alpha’s here, no one’s dozing.
Alpha waves the cigarette around his face. “How’s it feel to be surrounded by Kryptonite?”
Huh? A laugh bubbles out of me, and it’s definitely north of crazy this time. “That’s Superman, dipshit. If you wanna use comic book references, at least get them right.”
Trigger looks pained. He stares right at me and gives the tiniest shake of his head, warning me not to provoke the beast. But I just can’t help myself. I keep going, giggling up at the ceiling because this whole night is so funny. So fucking hilarious. If I had my hands, they’d be wrapped around my belly. I’m a one-woman emotional freak show. Once again, my mouth takes over, irrationally disregarding the warning fireworks flaring in my woozy brain.
“And if I were Wonder Woman, I’d have already used my superhuman powers to burrow a hole and shoot you straight to hell. But you’ll be there someday. I’m not worried.”
Staying true to form, my fit doesn’t seem to throw him. He inhales another puff and chuckles out the smoke. “I wish you were Wonder Woman. That show woulda been a hell of a lot more fun to watch.”
I’m thinking up another witty comeback when that glint in his eye sobers me right up. It’s challenging me, almost begging me to say something that’ll make it more entertaining for him when he slaps me around.
He’s proven more than once how much he enjoys the fighters.
Who cares? I’m already going to take it. Why not dish it while I can? I’m going to say it anyway. I’m about to when my lips part, then halt.
I hear something. It’s soft and far away. It’s…holy shit!
My name is being shouted from a distance. “Lila!”
It’s Jay. I’ve never heard him so distressed. I’ve never heard his voice at that decibel. Even though it’s far away, I know it’s him. My raging heart tells me it is.
Just hearing my name and knowing he’s coming for me has me back on my knees. I don’t know how I do it, but I’m fast and scrambling to get on my feet. Then I turn back at the sound of Alpha grinding his cigarette butt with his heel, and I realize he’s still not fazed.
“Showtime.” He comes to me and heaves me up.
Guess I didn’t need to worry about getting to my feet. My head still pounds, but all of me is too wound up to care. Wrapping an arm around my neck, he flashes his lighter and a grin.
“You been cheating on me?” He nuzzles my shoulder with his chin and bites the soft skin. His breath stings my nostrils.
I turn away with a sour taste in my mouth. I can still feel him, but at least I can’t see him.
“Ah, well, time to see what this hunk of yours is made of.”
“What?” I hate—hate—how weak I sound.
“Lila, no,” Trigger mutters. I glance at him. “Don’t. I told you don’t.”
“What?” I’m so confused.
My knees are giving way and Alpha’s arm jerks. If I go limp, he’ll choke me.
“Lila!” Jay is getting closer. He must be searching the building floor by floor because he’s not moving as fast as he could. “I will find you!”
Alpha springs back the cap of the lighter, flicking the starter with his thumb. A single thread of fire dances before my eyes.
I gulp.
He chuckles, his hold practically cutting off my windpipe. “Tell him,” he murmurs in my ear. “How much you love him. How you can’t wait for him to come rescue you so he can fuck your brains out.”
Yeah, because that would be my reason for getting the hell out of here. A thin sheen of sweat is building on my forehead. Why does Alpha want me to call out to Jay? What does he have planned?
I force my erratic breaths to even out. Stay calm, and don’t do what he says!
He brings the flame closer to my face. “Tell him, the hero of the hour.”
No. I arch away from him, my hands wriggling. I’m doing anything to put space between us.
His voice is firmer. “Tell. Him.”
“No.” Breathe.
This is an even crueler version of our standoff in the alley. I didn’t give in to him then, but Jay is in the mix now.
He moves the flame out of my sight. “Okay then.”
Suddenly, I feel a scorching sensation at the small of my back, just above my wrists.
“Ahhhh!” My cry is automatic. Now I see his plan.
No!
For some reason, he wants to lure Jay here. To kill him? Kill me? Both of us? Make one of us watch? What about Trigger? This is sick. “You bastard. You will—”
He burns me again, and I cry out louder.
“No,” I weep, pulling away from him. As usual, his grip is rock solid. I’m frantic. “No. Just me. Do what you want with me. Leave him alone.” I kick my right leg back at him, but that only results in flames to my skin.
I wail, unable to control the volume of my voice, and writhe forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
The skin at my back is melting. I can literally feel it cooking.
“Lila!”
“Don’t, Lila,” Trigger moans. His eyes are rolling back, and he’s doing the head side-to-side thing again.
Why is he talking to me? Why not Alpha?
He knows it won’t make a difference, a despaired inner voice tells me. He’s beyond stopping this. Whatever is set in motion will happen whether we try to impede it or not.
Alpha singes my skin again.
“Stop!” I scream. Then I dissolve into gut-wrenching sobs. “Stop, stop, stop.” I’m shattering. How is it that I kept it together when he had me underneath him, but now with Jay here, all my seams are being sliced open?
Something is dripping onto my hands. I don’t know if it’s blood or melted skin. I hear Jay again.
“Lila!”
“What are you going to say to your white knight, Lila?” Alpha says my name in two hotly whispered syllables. We are cheek to cheek, his nostrils releasing a current of smoke stench against my skin.
My face is soaked. “Don’t do this. Please.” Never in all my careless planning and foolhardy determination today did I think I’d end up begging Alpha. For anything.
“Lila!”
Dear God, he’s close.
My body is wilting. “I’ll do anything.” Never thought I’d say that either.
“Oh, I know you will.”
He burns me again. I scream again. It’s a burned-out mixture of pain, tears, exhaustion, heart-stricken panic, and horror.
“I’m coming!”
The door bursts open, and there’s Jay. So beautiful. So not broken. So…alive. The smile forming on my face at seeing him dies on my lips. I can’t let anything happen to him. If he dies, I die.
“Get out, Jay!”
The heat is back, cooking my flesh to perfection. I howl from the blazing sting, crying from the reality of what’s happening. This can’t be real. I must be stuck in a nightmare in the hollows of my unconsciousness.
“GO!” I bellow.
Jay freezes, shocked for a split-second, then he storms toward us. “Get the fuck away from her!”
I’ve never seen such rage in his normally soft blue eyes. I’d almost swear they were red. I’m so mesmerized that I can’t look anywhere but in them.
He’s here. He didn’t abandon me. He came for me. He’s approaching me. I don’t see anything else or hear anything else, and that doesn’t strike me as odd until I can’t hear anything—except for the loud, piercing ring in my ears.
Jay goes down, clutching something. His leg.
“Nooo!” My gut reaction is to run to him, but Alpha’s hold hasn’t loosened. I’m fighting against him, writhing and thrashing when I see it. The hand that was only seconds ago setting fire to my back is now holding a gun.
I feel Alpha r
etrieving something from his pants pocket. He slices the zip tie, freeing my hands. I cast my arms out to Jay, but Alpha has me around the neck.
Trigger is making weird noises—hoarse, indecipherable, maybe words. Jay’s on the floor, gritting his teeth, trying to bear down and stand on his good leg. Alpha tosses the knife aside. It skitters across the floor as he reaches in his pocket for something else.
All of this is happening at once yet separately. Similar to when I was waking up this morning, seconds are shattering into fractions. Spreading, slowing, pausing. Giving me a breath to decide what I’ll do.
I was wrong before. This is my now or never. If I don’t save Jay, I’ll only be never. Jay dies, I die.
My ears are still ringing. It’s like they’ve been stuffed with cotton, and I don’t hear it. From my peripheral, just barely, I see it. Not the gun. A syringe.
Alpha turns his face enough to flash his famous smirk at me. The needle is poised near my throat. “Now that I have you all to myself, let’s take this somewhere private.” He says to Jay, “Come after us, and I’ll put this in her. It’s not just a sleeper. I had this one made special.”
“NO!” Jay shouts. “LILA!” He’s right here, but he sounds so far away.
Our gazes rest on each other. We communicate in a heartbeat. I blink and shake my head once. I’ve got this, my look says. Don’t move, my eyes tell him.
Then I’m hauled away into a bedroom through a door off to the side. It’s empty until Alpha kicks a wall and out drops a foldaway bed. It’s dingy and gross, but he’s drugged out. I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit as he backs us up to the edge of the mattress.
He goes ravenously for my neck, sniffing me first and then licking. I wish I could take pleasure in my masterpiece—his beat up face—but I’m too overcome with repulsion from his nearness.
“Mmm.” He nuzzles my neck. “This is more like it. No dirty fucking street, nowhere for you to go, and no boyfriend to ruin the party. It’s perfect and I get to keep my promise.” He sucks on me, from jaw to shoulder. Then he bites hard, leaving a trail of teeth imprints on my skin. Tomorrow, there’ll be bruises…if there is a tomorrow. “Couldn’t wait until I could come down here, and ahh…” He loses all concentration as he rips the delicate lace of my bra. His lips lower to my collarbone.