Tragic Love (BOOK 2)

by Brannon, M.

  I pass the creep, making my way to the steps, taking them two at a time. Once I reach the apartment, a dim light from the kitchen aids me in moving around my apartment without knocking something over. There is not much to our apartment. The front door opens to a living room where we have a thrift shop plaid couch and chair, coffee table and small entertainment stand with a tiny flat screen TV. To the left of the front door there is a space for a table which Mia’s swing and other toys occupies. The entrance of the narrow, galley-style kitchen opens in front of the dining area. Straight ahead from the front door is a small hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom are. It’s not as open as the house, but it works for us, and hopefully soon, I can get us into a bigger place, maybe even a house.

  I carefully open the door to Mia’s bedroom to check on my sweet girl. She is curled up in the corner of her crib, sleeping away. Delilah went crazy in Mia’s nursery when we moved in here. Recruiting Jake, she painted a garden of flowers on the walls using every color in creation, hung pink curtains, and convinced him to buy a canopy style, white crib as a present for Presley’s shower. He bitched about it the entire time and even more when Delilah made him put it together. They worked pretty hard assembling everything to make the room perfect for Mia. Jeremy even pitched in and put a bunch of toys and a shelf together.

  I lean over Mia’s crib and kiss her on the side of her head. She still has a full head of dark brown hair, Presley’s beautiful eyes and my full lips, but is turning into a little chunk. Dimples surface on her cheeks each time she smiles and it captures my heart every single time.

  I close the door to Mia’s room and step into the bathroom for a quick shower, scrubbing off the day’s worth of dirt and booze. When I finish, I towel off and don’t bother to get dressed. I plan on spending the next couple of hours with Presley’s naked body wrapped around mine.

  As I enter our room, she is lying on her side, curled in a ball, just like Mia. Her hair is in a tight bun on the top of her head and she’s wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of sweats. I climb across the bed and slip under the covers. She pushes her body back against mine and I start growing immediately.

  I roll Presley to her back and position myself over her while being careful not to squish her. She flutters her eyes open and can read me like a book. We crash our lips together with so much intensity it almost hurts. The next thing I know clothes are flying and the condom is in place. I push myself inside her and shudder as the heat radiates off her body. Slowly, I rock gentle movements into her, pushing myself a little deeper each time. She holds my shoulders, squeezing me tightly.

  At first I think I’m hurting her, but then she urges me to push faster when her hands grab my ass, wanting me to slam into her. Moments later, we reach our climax and I fall back into the pillow exhausted, spinning and satisfied.

  Chapter 9

  Presley

  One Month Later

  I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, shaking uncontrollably. Mia is lying in her bouncy chair, staring happily at a lighted, musical toy strapped around it. I’ve tried to hold off as long as I can, but my stomach is nauseous and my head is spinning. I move from the bed, reaching for the small, metal tin tucked underneath it. When I open it, my salvation and my hell are glaring back at me. I pull the contents from the container and lay them methodically on the bed.

  The sounds of Mia’s cooing and kicking legs are the only noise in the room. Then “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” is playing from her toy and reminds me how horrible a mother I truly am. Mrs. Fields is visiting family for the next couple of days, so I wait patiently for Delilah to come and relieve me of my responsibility. Every relationship I used to value is now broken, severed, because I don’t want anything to do with any of them.

  “Good Morning!” Delilah shouts as she steps into my apartment.

  As quickly as possible I put all the contents back into the tin and shove it back under the bed. I grab a sweatshirt from the closet to hide all traces of what I’ve now become. Unhooking Mia from her chair, I make my way out of the bedroom to meet Delilah. She is looking lovely as usual, wearing a jean skirt and Keith Urban concert t-shirt. Her plethora of long blonde hair is secured in a loose, fishtail braid and her tan skin shimmers in the light.

  She’s been back in Sulfur Heights for the last month and staying at the house with Darcie and the guys. Before I became who I am now, Delilah would have stayed with us, but as time rapidly passed by and my demons pulled me further from my sanity, I can’t handle anything right now. She used to come over every day, helping with Mia, cooking meals and doing pretty much anything I asked. However, I burned that bridge when I was overwhelmed with the withdraw living in me. Now she only comes to get Mia and then leaves. Most days, I don’t even see her because I don’t have Mia. Drake won’t allow me to have her alone.

  Delilah, one way or another, has always looked out for me, ever since we were young and I was too scared to defend myself against bullies. Then again, when classmates found out I was institutionalized for my depression. She was quick to stop rumors and defend me when I wasn’t able to do it myself. Her parents, on the other hand, think of me as a charity case and allowed Delilah to be my friend because it’s preparing her for her future of being a rich doctor’s wife and all the fund raising she’ll be doing. Well, I don’t know that for sure, but that’s how they made me feel whenever I was around. Delilah begged them to take me in after I lost my parents in a car accident, but they said my uncle had the means to support me and they didn’t want to interfere. I wish they would have.

  Now, Delilah doesn’t even bother with me anymore. It’s almost like she’s giving up on me. It hurts, but I continue to pretend like it doesn’t.

  “Hi,” I say while carrying Mia on my hip. I’m afraid I’ll drop her from the tremors pulsing their way through my hands. I’m still not comfortable holding her.

  “You know, you might feel better if you actually got dressed in clothes other than sweatpants and get out of this apartment. I swear all you do is lie around,” Delilah says while making goofy faces to Mia. “And you’re getting too skinny again. Are you…you eating, Presley? Delilah’s eyes shift to mine and they’re embedded with worry. “Because, right now, you’re nothing other than a walking skin, your eyes are sunken and you look ill. It’s reminding me too much of what you looked like before you checked into that hospital.”

  Of course she would think I’ve reverted back to my old ways of starving myself for the sake of drowning out my depression. I guess, in a way, I am starving myself, but it’s not from food. “Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I eat on a regular basis.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You think that I hate you, but I don’t. I’m just frustrated to no end because you don’t talk to me anymore.” Her eyes start to glisten with tears as she moves closer to me.

  “Like I said a second ago, don’t fucking worry about it. No one can live in a perfect world like you, Delilah. So stop treating me like a petulant child and get the hell away from me.” Eyes burning with anger and tears, Delilah takes Mia from my arms and moves to the door to leave.

  “You know, I’m not the only one worried about you, Presley. Jake, Darcie, Reggie and even Jeremy have commented about how different you are. And Drake, you’ve completely broken him. You know that right?” Yes, I see it every single time I have to look into his eyes. “If it weren’t for Mia, I’m not sure what he would be like. Have you even talked to him?”

  God, I can’t deal with this now. Not when my body is so vulnerable and desperate to suppress its pain.

  “Ugh! Drake doesn’t know what I have to deal with when he’s not here. I swear, she cries all the time. It’s draining, and if I’m tired and want to be alone, then dammit, that’s what he needs to do! Leave me alone!” I shout my lie to Delilah as I’m blaming everything on my baby. The baby I hardly know because I choose not to. A baby I rarely see because Drake won’t allow it. When I do see her, Mia is a pretty quiet baby for the most part. I don’t g
et any peace because I can’t sleep. Robert is always there in my dreams, sucking all the life from me, and to add to my insomnia, I’ve developed a sickness, a fever that comes whenever my body craves more.

  “Well, you should at least try to make amends. I will be leaving soon and I won’t be able to raise your baby living fourteen hours away.” She looks to Mia and plants kisses on her jaw and chin then she snaps her glaring eyes toward me. Delilah is so good with her. Why can’t I be more like her? She’s a confident, happy and good person. “Are you still taking your medication?”

  “What’s with the million fucking questions? Yes, I’m taking my meds,” I lie again. I haven’t taken my antidepressants for weeks because they don’t help and I now found a cure to all my pain. I still feel helpless, scared and weak, but this new remedy takes it all away with the slightest prick of a needle.

  I move to the couch and sit with my hands under my legs, trying to prevent them from shaking. Nothing else can help me. I know what I’ve become and what’s worse, I’ve become the thing Drake despises most. Every day I have to hide my secret when he comes home to check on me. I can’t allow him to know what I use to take all the pain away and what I’ve transformed into.

  The first time I had to fake my feelings toward him was the first time I found my remedy for all the self loathing taking up residence in my mind; my instant gratification from the pain. It was the last time we tried to have sex. It was the last time he told me he loved me. It was the last time we had anything that remotely resembled what we used to be.

  Before Mia was born, he was the only way I could feel rescued from the pain. Now, I can’t remember the last time I’ve had an orgasm or the last time I truly craved his touch. I’m craving something new, something powerful.

  Four weeks ago, Drake really wanted to make our night special as he carefully planned every detail. Romantic music was playing through the apartment. He cooked a nice meal—candles included—and arranged an overnight stay for Mia at the Evans’s house. I tried so hard to get myself in the mood. I told myself this is the man I love. The man who would give me his final breath so I could go on living. I kept screaming over and over in my head, you have to make this work. You have to make this work. I kissed him with all the desire I could muster, but it fell—with the rest of me—into a desolate wasteland. I had no passion. I was empty and soulless and there was nothing to give, not even to him.

  After we moved to the bedroom and started to make love, nothing happened. No sparks, lust, yearning…nothing. Here was Drake, the sexiest man God created, lying naked on top of me and I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I couldn’t hide the disappointment on my face. Drake stopped and just looked closely at me. The look was heartbreaking. He was at a loss and all I could do was simply stare back at him because I had nothing to give and nothing to say.

  “What’s the matter? Am I hurting you?”

  “No. I’m just not in the mood,” I responded more harshly than intended, but I was frustrated with myself. How could I allow this to happen to us?

  He pulled himself out of me and reached for his boxers on the floor. Once he had them pulled on, Drake stood over me with his hands planted firmly on his hips. “What the hell is the matter with you lately? It seems like every time I want to touch you, be close to you, you always pull away. Have I done something wrong?”

  Covering myself with the sheet, I sat up and looked him in his broken eyes. How am I supposed to tell him that he doesn’t turn me on anymore? That nothing turns me on anymore. I have lost all desire for anything. “I…I just don’t feel it anymore.” It was a horrible answer, but it was the truth. Before I even had a chance to explain it further, Drake lost all composure.

  Angrily, he pulled the rest of his clothes on, leaned forward, looking me dead in the face and said, “Well, let me make it easy on you then. I don’t feel like being here with you anymore.” The door slammed shut and I was left alone.

  Later that night, I ran to the same park where I went after I left the clinic and sat there in the dark night, slowly gliding back and forth on a swing. I was secretly hoping someone would find me dead the next day, perhaps killed from a drive by shooting or stabbed by a serial killer, but what found me instead was an answer for all my problems, or so I thought. He came to me in the same way he did that afternoon at the park. Only this time, it wasn’t a joint he wanted to share, it was a needle.

  As I lie down on the couch, remembering the first night my relationship was sent plummeting down to hell, the guilt for treating Drake like I have merely piles up more. I feel as though, if I don’t get a hold of myself soon, I will suffocate from the guilt and surely die. I close my eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep. The last thought passing through my head before I succumb to exhaustion is of my mysterious new friend, Carter. He’s who takes all my pain away now. He is who I’m addicted to now, because it’s Carter who sticks that needle in my arm. In my emotional state, Carter is the one who makes it all go away.

  Drake

  The last few weeks I’ve been living in a personal hell. Something has happened to Presley and I don’t know what it is. She is irrational, emotional and has done a complete one hundred eighty degree turn. I feel like I’m slowly losing her; that it’ll be impossible to get her back.

  It’s been a month since our last fight and she has become so withdrawn from everyone. I can’t have a conversation without Presley losing her temper or having a complete meltdown. I’ve become so worried the last two weeks that I pay Mrs. Fields to watch Mia in the morning until Delilah can pick her up. I couldn’t concentrate at work, knowing Presley was home with Mia by herself. Her actions are scaring me. I had to take matters into my own hands.

  However, the real fucked up thing is that Presley doesn’t seem to care. She just nods and goes back to sleep. Delilah rarely stays with her at the apartment anymore. Presley lost her temper again and slammed the door in her face, telling Delilah to go to hell. Now she won’t have anything to do with her. I don’t think she’d have me around if it weren’t for me having a key to the apartment and being a complete bastard.

  I don’t know how to deal with her anymore. I get so incredibly angry I have to leave so I don’t do anything I’ll regret. After work, Mia and I spend the majority of our time at my old house with my brothers, Darcie and Delilah only returning back to the apartment to sleep. Reggie told me that I need to take her to the doctor again, get her medication switched.

  Always listening to my mentor, I took his advice, but as soon as I uttered the word doctor to Presley, the conversation instantly went down the shitter. She threw a plate at me and told me she hated me.

  So here I am, back in my old garage, slamming my fists into the broken-down heavy bag because I have no other outlet for my frustration. I don’t know what else to do. What’s happening to us is killing me. The sweat is running down my face, stinging my eyes as it drops from my pores. I keep punching out all the rage I have for Presley and the rage I have for myself. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to help her. God knows I love this woman, she’s been my world for the last three years, but I feel incredibly helpless.

  I’ve threatened to leave her if she doesn’t get her shit together, but that doesn’t seem to faze her. It’s almost like she wants me to leave. Presley doesn’t even fight me when I threaten to take Mia from her. She simply looks at me like that’s what she’s been waiting for. Maybe that is what I should do, just walk away. Give up on the woman I love because there is no other alternative.

  Thump.

  Thump-thump.

  Thump.

  No! I won’t give up on her, I can’t. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she needs me, and God knows how badly I need her. I keep plowing my bare fists into the bag. The skin on my hands is red and angry from each punch, but I keep on. I need to feel the burn. I need to feel something other than weak and helpless from my situation.

  When I make my way back into the house, I can hear Darcie and Delilah having a heated conve
rsation with each other. Not wanting to get in the middle of another chick fight, I try to get a drink as quietly as I can, so I can get the hell out of there. I turn on the tap and fill a glass with cold water. My breathing is rapid and the sweat is still present on my skin.

  “Drake!” Darcie yells from the living room.

  Expelling a deep sigh, I walk into the living room and quickly take notice that the girls are still in a heated discussion, but it’s not toward each other. Their conversation is heated only because they’ve come together, plotting and planning something the way chicks do.

  “What’s up?” I say, looking around for my little girl. “Where’s Mia?”

  “She’s napping in my room,” Delilah says with sadness in her voice. The second I walked into the room her face dropped and instantly was in pain, this can’t be good. She’s never been able to hide her emotions and I get the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Just tell him. He deserves to know,” Darcie encourages as she walks to my side, trying to be comforting.

  I look between the two of them, trying to decipher what the hell they are trying to tell me. It’s making me feel anxious and pissed off all at the same time. “I’m guessing this has to do with Presley, so just tell me.”

  “Delilah thinks she may know what’s going on with Presley. Apparently, she’s had problems with it in the past,” Darcie informs in quiet tone. “Go on. Tell him.” Her eyes meet Delilah’s and they instantly gloss over.

  “Before Presley moved here, she was institutionalized.” What the hell? “Her parents recognized she had a major problem and immediately took action to get her help.” Delilah is staring at the floor while twisting the end of her shirt into a tight knot. “She’s struggled with depression for a long time and right before her parents died, she was doing so well. But then she moved here. And I can tell she is rapidly slipping back into her old ways. We have to get her help before she dies.”