Darkness Within

by Isabel Lucero

  “He fought you?”

  “He was drunk, so it wasn’t much of a fight, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”

  Nick’s the only one who I feel like I need to defend. I don’t give a shit about anybody else, but Nick’s proven his friendship over the years, and hearing about what his dad is doing pisses me off because it brings back memories of the men I knew when I was growing up. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like this. His dad loves to come around and try to rough him up still and I don’t know if Nick’s ever going to snap and do something about it.

  I know I could take care of this problem for him, but Nick’s dad isn’t on my list, and even though they don’t get along, I doubt he’d want his dad to be killed.

  “I’m sorry, man,” I say, knowing nothing can be said that will make his situation better.

  He sighs. “It’s all right. Life, you know? We’re not all dealt the best of hands.”

  “Yeah,” I respond, taking another drink and staring off into the distance. Nick’s eyes burn holes into the side of my face, so I turn and look at him. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He finishes his beer and the bartender is there with another one right away. Neither one of us say anything for a little while, choosing to drink in silence. When I look into the mirror behind the bar, I can see Nick’s reflection. His facial expressions change as though he’s having an internal conversation with himself. I glance down at his restless fingers as they go from tapping nervously on his glass to rubbing back and forth across his chin.

  “What’s up with you?” I ask.

  He takes several seconds and a few deep breaths before answering. “Remember that night we got really drunk and talked about our fucked up childhoods?” he asks.

  I take a sip, trying not to show that my hackles are raised, wondering what the hell I said that night. “Barely. I think I had too much to drink. Probably just talked out my ass.”

  He snorts. “Yeah.”

  I continue to watch him in the mirror without him realizing it. It’s obvious the wheels in his head are turning. He’s got something on his mind, and he wants to talk about it, but he’s afraid to bring it up. What the hell did I say that night? I come to the conclusion that I’ll only drink one beer tonight. I’m not taking any more chances. Meanwhile, Nick’s on beer number three.

  “Hey, you think I can crash at your house tonight?” he asks. “My house is all fucked up and I don’t know if my dad is gonna try to show up again.”

  Well, I guess my visit to Ned’s neighborhood will have to wait. “Sure. Plus, I don’t think you’ll be fit to drive anytime soon.”

  A smirk touches his lips. “Drinking my sorrows away, man.” He signals to the bartender. “Can I get a shot of Jack, please?”

  I give him a look and he laughs. “Might as well take advantage of having a DD.”

  “Yeah, but you throw up in my truck and you’ll be out on your ass.”

  He laughs. “Deal.”

  Another hour goes by and Nick continues to drink, but our conversations are light, and I stop worrying about what kind of damning things I might’ve told him before.

  “I think it’s time to get outta here,” I tell him, noticing his eyes becoming redder and his speech more slurred.

  “Yeah, cool,” he mumbles, sliding off his chair.

  The silence hung heavy between us on the way to my house. At one point I thought he was asleep, but I caught the reflection of his troubled eyes in the windshield. Silence isn’t always welcome. It isn’t always comforting. Sometimes silence lets you hear the things you’d rather not. Nick’s silence was deafening. He was gearing up to say something that I knew I wasn’t ready for.

  “I trust you, Donovan,” he slurs as I pull into my driveway. “You’re a cool guy.”

  I laugh at his drunken confessions. “Thanks, man.”

  “I won’t tell anybody,” he murmurs, trying to find the door handle.

  “Tell anybody what?” I ask. “That I’m cool?” I question with a small chuckle.

  He looks over his shoulder and his glazed eyes find mine. “What you’ve done.”

  Silence returns, swallowing me up and stealing the words from my mouth. All I can do is watch as he stumbles out of the truck towards my house.

  NICK INSTANTLY FLOPPED onto my couch and passed out once we got inside, leaving me reeling. What does he mean, what I’ve done? I can only think of one thing, but I know I wouldn’t just come out and say I’ve killed people, no matter how drunk I was. He couldn’t possibly know that, and if he does, what do I do about it?

  While he snores on the couch, I sit across from him in my chair, wracking my brain for any memories of that night to come back to me. That was nearly two years ago. Why would he wait until now to bring it up?

  I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale. Part of me wants to talk about this and figure this shit out. Another part of me wants to leave it alone and pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe he’ll have been too drunk to remember, but then again, I thought that before.

  How can I have a conversation with someone about what I do? There’s no normal way to talk about that. As much as I like and think I can trust Nick, I don’t trust him that much. That’s something normal people can’t deal with.

  If he knows—truly knows—do I kill him? Can I allow him to live knowing my darkest secret? I rub my thumb across my lip and take another drag before blowing the smoke towards Nick. If I do it now, he’ll never know what hit him. Maybe it’s best this way.

  I put the cigarette out and get up, pacing back and forth across the living room before sitting back down.

  He’s not on the list.

  He’s not on the list.

  He’s not on the list.

  I do everything I can to convince myself it’ll be all right if he lives. He may not even be talking about what I think he’s talking about. I should at least give him the chance to explain. I’ll at least sleep on it.

  In the morning, I go to the kitchen to make some coffee and see Nick starting to stir on the couch. As I’m pouring myself a cup, I hear him get up and shuffle to the bathroom, and I begin thinking about what the hell I’m going to say to him about this shit.

  “Can I get some?” he asks, coming into the kitchen.

  I grab another mug from the cabinet and place it in front of the coffee pot. Leaning against the counter, I wait for him to say something else.

  “Guess I had too much to drink last night,” he says, rubbing his head. “Got some Tylenol or something?”

  Without a word, I find the medicine and pass it to him. Just fucking say it already. Tell me again that you know what I’ve done, and I’ll end it now.

  “Thanks for letting me crash here. I wasn’t too annoying was I?” he asks with a slight laugh.

  “Nah,” I reply, drinking my coffee.

  “That’s good. I don’t remember too much after leaving the bar. Maybe those shots were a bad idea.”

  I keep staring at him, studying his face, voice, anything that could tell me if he’s lying or not.

  “Some people think they’re prepared to handle certain shit, but they aren’t. You should be careful.”

  I’m a callous dick. I know. But I had to give him a subtle warning, just in case.

  He looks at me for a few seconds and nods his head. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  I walk past him and squeeze his shoulder. “I’m gonna get ready. I don’t have food, so we can grab some breakfast before I take you to your car.”

  “All right. Thanks, Donovan,” he says with a touch of relief in his voice.

  If he knows anything, and I’m still not certain whether he does or not, it’s been two years since that conversation, so it should mean something that the cops haven’t been to my door.

  We end up going to George’s Burgers since it’s not too far from where we were drinking last night, and they have good food. The whole ride over, Nick talks about everything from work, to some girl he’s been try
ing to get with.

  “I thought you could get with anyone?” I joke as we get out of the truck.

  “Yeah, well, she’s playing hard to get. Too hard, if you ask me.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe she doesn’t like you.”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Right.”

  A few minutes after we’re seated, I’m still looking through my menu when the waitress arrives.

  “Hi, I’m Leigh, and I’ll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink?”

  I look up from my menu and come face to face with Analeigh.

  “Oh, hey,” she says, her smile becoming wider as she notices me. “How ya been?”

  “Good,” I reply with a small grin. “You?”

  “Busy.”

  “Yeah. You work here and at the strip club?”

  “Yep. Gotta pay the bills.”

  “You’re a stripper?” Nick asks.

  “No,” she laughs. “I’m a bartender.”

  “Oh, this is the one . . .” Nick starts, looking at me with a smirk.

  Analeigh laughs. “Anyway, what can I get for you guys?”

  Both Nick and I place our orders and when Analeigh disappears, Nick looks at me with a shit-eating grin.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Did you ever text her after that night?”

  “No. Why?”

  “No?” he exclaims. “Why the fuck not? She’s hot.”

  “I’m aware,” I say. “I’m just busy, and I don’t want a girlfriend.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that she said she was too busy for a boyfriend? You guys could just hook-up.”

  I shrug and Analeigh appears with our drinks.

  “Here you go. So, what have y’all been up to? How was your birthday night?” she asks Nick.

  “Oh, from what I can remember, it was a good time,” he says with a laugh.

  “Well, I’d hope so,” she replies with a laugh. “And you?” she asks, turning her attention to me. “What’s been going on with you?”

  “Nothing too exciting. Just work.”

  She gives me a smile. “Why don’t we try to make it exciting? You got plans for tonight?”

  “Nope. None that I can think of,” I answer, even though I should be tracking Ned’s schedule.

  “Good. I’m not working the bar tonight, so we can do something,” she says, raising her brows, letting me know what the something is.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back with your food soon,” she says, smiling at us both.

  “Oooh, Donovan has a date tonight,” Nick squeals like a girl.

  “Hardly a date. I’m sure we’re just gonna fuck again.”

  “Oh, you’re so romantic,” Nick jokes, rolling his eyes. “Why do women like you?”

  I laugh and answer honestly. “I don’t know.”

  Once the food arrives, we’re both fairly quiet, our hunger taking precedence over conversation. We clear our plates quick, and Analeigh is back with drink refills.

  “How does eight o’clock sound?” she asks, placing our Cokes in front of us.

  “Eight’s good. Same place or . . . ?”

  “Same place,” she answers with a smile.

  “See you then,” I reply with a grin of my own.

  “Can’t wait.”

  She slides the ticket on the table and walks off.

  “That easy, huh?” Nick questions. “You didn’t even offer to take her to dinner.”

  “She knows it’s not about dinner and getting to know each other.”

  “Does she?”

  “She agreed that I wasn’t the boyfriend type. She’s busy and doesn’t have time for that nonsense anyway. This works for both of us.”

  “She’s a female. They say that shit, but one day she’s gonna want you to bring her flowers or take her out in public. Trust me.”

  I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”

  He laughs. “If you say so.”

  “I think it’s time to take you back to your car now,” I say, pulling some cash out for my half of the bill.

  Nick laughs some more. “Don’t be mad at the facts, man.”

  I ignore his laughter as I slide out of the booth and head to the door. “It’s not a fact if it hasn’t been proven.”

  “Oh, it will be,” he says, walking alongside me.

  The drive to Nick’s car doesn’t take too long. He continues to give me shit over Analeigh and our impending relationship, but I keep shooting that shit down. Any sort of relationship I’ve had, whether it be with a woman or with my foster parents, has never worked out. I’m surprised my relationship with Nick has lasted as long as it has, but if he tries to act like he knows something about me, it won’t last too much longer.

  “Thanks again,” he says before getting out of my truck. “For everything. Sorry for dumping my shit out on you last night.”

  “No worries.”

  “All right, man. See you Monday.”

  “Yep.”

  Since I now have plans for tonight, I decide to use today to track some of Ned’s movements. I’ll need to know his nighttime, weekend plans, since that’s when I plan on making my move, but hopefully I’ll be able to find out enough before eight.

  I search through the information I saved on my phone regarding the people on my list, and head to his home address. Let’s find out what old Ned’s up to these days.

  MOST OF MY day is boring, consisting of waiting outside Ned’s house until he decides to leave. When he finally does, I follow him to a market, and end up waiting in the parking lot for him to exit. After he returns to his car with one bag in hand, he promptly takes off and drives to a gas station. I try to keep myself alert, but Ned’s pretty dull.

  I make sure to keep my distance, but Ned doesn’t have a reason to think anyone would be following him, so I doubt he’s looking in his rearview too often. After the trip to the gas station, we arrive at a high school. Because traffic is light around here, I have to turn off down a residential road and position my truck on the street where I can see what he’s doing without following him into the parking lot.

  A couple of teenage thugs walk up to his car and Ned hands them the paper bag from the market. They look into the bag and then hand him something I can’t make out. It’s small though. Huh. Ned’s becoming a little more interesting.

  After leaving the school, Ned makes a stop at a broken down apartment complex. It’s in bad shape, and looks like nobody should occupy it, but people are hanging outside the apartments, smoking and listening to music. I watch from across the street as he goes inside, stays for about twenty minutes, then gets back into his car and drives home.

  The rest of my evening is slow. I’ve been sitting outside for about an hour and a half, wondering if he’s in for the night. It’s about six forty-five when I see and hear his front door open. Ned climbs back into his faded red Pontiac Grand Am and takes off again. With a glance at my clock on the dash, I try to figure out how much longer I can follow him until I need to head to Analeigh’s place.

  After about twenty minutes on the road, I recognize the area we’re in. It’s quite the coincidence, but I keep following him. When he pulls into a parking space in front of one of the apartments, I wonder what the hell is going on. He’s come to the same complex Analeigh lives in. It’s not near her actual apartment, but the fact that he’s come here is a little strange.

  I end up driving further down the block and parking along the road. The sun has already gone down, so once again I’m in the comfort of shadows. I approach the apartment building confidently, making an effort to look as inconspicuous as possible. I don’t look around or behind me, I simply act like I belong here. Somebody could look out their window and not give me a second thought.

  When I get to the apartment he parked in front of, I make my way to the side of the building, near a window. Luckily, whoever he’s visiting lives on the end, so maybe I’ll be able to hear some conversation.

  It’s qui
et for a while, but I finally hear a woman’s voice floating over the sound of running water. This must be the kitchen window.

  “So, how much was it?” The woman’s voice sounds like she gargles daily with broken glass. It’s rough and scratchy, and quite honestly, it disgusts me.

  Ned responds, but he’s further away so his voice isn’t as clear.

  “Well, I guess that’s not too bad. Did you give those punks their alcohol?”

  More murmuring from Ned and some raucous cackling from the woman. I’m guessing Ned was supplying teenagers with alcohol in exchange for something.

  The water cuts off and the voice speaks again. “Well, put the shit on the table. Let’s have a look.” I hear some more chuckles, and then Ned’s voice is a little clearer.

  “I’ll probably crash here again. Won’t feel like driving here in a little bit.”

  “Figured,” the female voice responds.

  I see a car approaching, so I turn my back and bend down like I’m tying my shoe. Once it’s gone, I look at my watch and figure I should get to Analeigh’s place soon. It’s almost eight, and knowing Ned stays here from time to time is helpful.

  I approach Analeigh’s apartment from the opposite direction this time. A guy drives past me, looking at me like he has a problem. Asshole. The parking space next to Analeigh’s car is empty again, so I assume her roommate isn’t here, and park next to her.

  I knock on the door twice, and just a few seconds later she appears in the doorway with a smile on her face.

  “Hey. You made it.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” I ask with a grin.

  She shrugs. “You never know.” Opening the door wider, she lets me in and leads me to the couch. “So, how was your day?”

  “It was fine.”

  With a nod, she turns and faces me, sitting Indian style on the couch. “Now, I know you said you weren’t the boyfriend type, but I didn’t really expect you to not text me at all after our fun last weekend,” she admits with a smirk.

  I can’t help but let out a short laugh. “Sorry about that.”

  “Are you?” she questions, lifting a brow with a smile playing on her lips.