Tragic Love (BOOK 2)

by Brannon, M.

  “Institutionalized?” The word barely leaves my mouth with a sound. “For what?” I ask.

  “Depression and anorexia. She has always been a sad person, which led to Presley getting teased constantly when she was younger, which only advanced her deep depression and it led her to starve herself. I think she stopped eating because she was trying to give up on herself, but we wouldn’t let her give up. Her parents put her in a rehab facility where she learned how to cope with her depression. God, she was just so sad and skinny. But over the few months of therapy while she was there, Presley started to pull herself back up.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I am livid. I could have done something sooner to help her. I can’t believe Delilah right now. Why would you keep a secret if you know revealing that secret will save someone’s life? “Do you realize all of this shit could have been avoided if you would’ve enlightened me, Delilah?”

  “I’m sorry, Drake. Presley made me promise never to tell anyone. She was so embarrassed and didn’t want to be judged by her past. It just wasn’t my secret to share and I really wasn’t sure she was doing this until I saw her this morning.” Delilah’s eyes are pleading with me while mine ignite.

  “Just like it wasn’t your secret to share when Presley went to the abortion clinic!” Her shoulders slump from my low blow. I’ve never resented Delilah for not telling me Presley was pregnant; I commend her for being a good friend. Besides, in the end, she saved her from a horrible decision. She saved my baby. Currently, that doesn’t matter because I am on fire, pissed.

  My legs move and start pacing the length of the living room. I want to hit something and I want to hit so hard my fist explodes from the force of the punch. Why is she keeping important shit like this from me?

  “Drake, I think it’s only fair we tell Delilah what happened to Presley while she’s been here,” Darcie says while grabbing my arm, trying to get my attention enough to calm down.

  Defeated, I flop onto the couch and surrender. We need to talk because we have to save Presley’s life. I nod to Darcie and she begins to recap the horrific events of Presley’s life since living in Sulfur Heights. She starts at the beginning with her story and how she was abused for years by the hand of her deranged stepfather. She moves into the freak coincidence of Robert being Presley’s uncle and eventually speaks of the events that led Presley to being held captive in that house.

  As she’s telling Presley’s nightmare, all the old feelings surface to my eyes. I was sixteen-years-old when all that shit happened to her. I have never been so scared in my entire life. The first glimpse I got of her after her captivity was horrifying and has been forever burned into my memory. She was covered in blood from the cuts to her body, purple from bruises and her hair was gone. She could barely stand. It was gut-wrenching.

  While everyone else left to rescue Darcie, I carried Presley into my room and held her so tightly. The blood she was covered in saturated my clothes, but I didn’t care, it just made me hold her tighter. That was the last time I cried until the day I felt my daughter growing in Presley’s belly and until now.

  I put my head in my hands and sob. All of the stress, aggravation and worry over Presley have finally broken me. I can’t keep the pain inside anymore. I let it all flow out while my body racks from the sobs. Comforting hands start running up and down my back as a quiet sob comes from Delilah’s throat. She knows. She knows how much I love this woman and how much it wounds me to see her wasting away because she loves her, too, just as much as I do. We all love Presley and now it’s time to save her. She has so much to live for and the most important reason is now snuggled into Darcie’s arms, refreshed from her nap.

  I stand to my feet, wiping the wandering tears off my face and latch on to my daughter. Mia’s cheeks are pink and her honey-brown eyes are sparkling back at me. I kiss her on the cheek and hold her tightly to my chest, then whisper, “I promise, sweet girl, I will save your mommy. I will save your mommy.”

  Chapter 10

  Presley

  My body is shaking all over as the familiar feeling of withdrawal is crashing into it. My stomach wants to wretch the contents, which nowadays isn’t much more than liquid. My new friend wraps his belt around my bicep and yanks it tight. The feeling in my arm starts to numb when one of the last working veins under my skin slightly elevates for me to damage it. The powder is liquefied and the syringe filled. He slides the cool, metal tip of the needle into my tender vein. The prick of pain is only momentary as I watch him push down on the plunger.

  Instantly, my body relaxes and I finally feel euphoric again. I’m riding a wave of pleasure as all the pain escapes from my body, the guilt over abandoning my daughter and the guilt for lying to Drake while my addiction to heroin spirals out of control.

  It’s been a month since the first time Carter stuck me with that needle and I can honestly say I’ve never felt so much weight leave my body in a matter of moments. Now, all I do is chase that high. There is nothing else in this world that can ease the fear, depression and hate living in my body. Not Drake, not Delilah, nor even my daughter; only heroin.

  Ever since I was ten-years-old, I’ve struggled with happiness and once I lost my parents and then survived the terror of Robert Stein, helplessness and fear live permanently inside of me. Where Drake once took that feeling away, heroin has replaced it. I’ve always hated taking medication and Lord knows I didn’t plan on relying on drugs to keep me from feeling the horror in my mind.

  I briefly think about getting a therapist again, but how am I supposed to admit to them the horrible thoughts I have of abandoning my daughter at a gas station. Or tell them exactly what happened to me in that house. How I was held against my will, almost killed by a lunatic. How am I supposed to say how I escaped? I’m lucid enough knowing those feelings and events aren’t right, aren’t supposed to be discussed. Little did I know, drugs are the only way I can erase the guilt for letting everyone I love down. The guilt for not loving the baby I created with the love of my life. I’m a horrible mother. I don’t deserve any of them.

  Now that I’ve succeeded at alienating my family and friends, I spend most of my free time getting high with my new best friend, Carter—the mysterious man in black who I met at the park—or sleeping off my withdraw. Most days I don’t realize when Drake has come home with Mia because I am completely out of it. He barely speaks to me as it is and has been sleeping on the couch for the last month. I don’t pretend to care because that would mean I would have to admit how royally fucked up I truly am.

  I snap my eyes open and look around my apartment. The last thing I remember is arguing with Delilah before I fell asleep. My head is dizzy and the room is spinning as I sit up then attempt to get off the couch. Fuck! The withdrawal floods into me. Sweaty and shaky I have to move. I have to see Carter.

  I quickly walk back to my bedroom, bumping into walls along the way, and pull the tin from underneath the bed. I contemplate my decision to get high. I always debate whether I should or should not get high, however my addiction always wins because my mind knows peace will soon follow the moment the needle pricks my skin. I haven’t been brave enough to shoot myself up and I’m completely dependent on Carter to do it. I pull the cell phone off the dresser and dial his number. Fortunately for me, he lives downstairs on the first floor, so I have a private place to get high and live in peace.

  I slide my fingers across the screen and listen for him to answer. “Hello?” His voice is deep, smooth and sounds like heaven.

  “Hey…can I come down?” I ask while putting on a fresh pair of underwear and shorts.

  “Door’s open. I got some really good stuff in yesterday. Do you have any money?” he asks and I cringe immediately. I only have enough left to shoot up one time and lately I shoot up more times than I like to count as I’m always chasing that perfect sensation.

  “Uh…yeah,” I whisper, knowing I don’t have any more money.

  “See you soon.” He hangs up the phone and
I finish getting dressed. It feels like an impossible task just trying to put clothes on my body. The shaking is too intense and the vomit is burning the back of my throat. With every movement, I fight down the nausea, knowing it will all go away soon.

  I plod down the steps and make my way across the pool area, walking up to his front door. I lightly tap on the outside and slowly push open the door. Carter is sitting at the table, counting twenty dollar bills, stacking them in piles, securing the pile with a rubber band and then adding their sum on his calculator. It’s more money than I’ve seen in one sitting and the sight makes my eyes go big.

  “Lock the door,” he says as he pushes away from his table and greets me with a big open-arm hug. I like how comforting Carter has become for me. He understands I have a need to feel better and doesn’t judge me, he simply supports me. I latch my arms around his waist and feel his pistol tucked in the back of his pants. I’ve never known him to not have a gun or his backpack close by.

  Carter hasn’t changed since the day I met him. He is tall, though not as tall as Drake, and thin, yet muscular and handsome. His eyes are bright surrounded by mile long lashes and his smile is welcoming. From the moment we met in the park, I’ve been drawn to him and I think he feels the same for me. We confide in one another and get high together. It’s the perfect relationship.

  Where my drug of choice requires a needle, Carter prefers to smoke a joint, and on rare occasions, he will snort cocaine, but I’ve only seen him do that twice. Mostly it’s just weed.

  Still in his arms, he asks, “Having another bad day?” He squeezes his arms tighter around me, keeping me secure in his arms.

  “Yeah. I’m not feeling so hot.”

  Carter takes me by the hand and leads me over to his couch. His apartment is exactly like mine except the layout is opposite. I flop onto the couch and pull my shirt over my head, sitting in a cami and shorts.

  Carter opens my tin and pulls the metal spoon from the container. He sets it on the coffee table along with the syringe and the minimal powder left in the baggie. Next, Carter yanks the belt from his shorts and studies my arms, deciding which one will surface a vein. Once satisfied, he securely wraps the belt around my brown and purple arm. “We may need to move to your leg soon. I think your arms need some time to heal. It’s getting hard to find a vein.”

  I shrug then tremble with anticipation of my pain-suppressing drug. Carter lights a joint then puts the lighter under the spoon liquefying the powder while a cloud of smoke surrounds him. Moments later, the needle is filled and he’s drumming light taps on my arms to raise my vein. Yanking the belt tighter, I feel the burn from the leather, but it soon leaves my body as Carter glides the needle into my vein and sends me into a tailspin of euphoric bliss. Riding a wave of pleasure and relief, I close my eyes and fall back into Carter’s arms. Finally, comfortably numb.

  ***

  I’m assuming hours have passed by, considering the low light in his apartment. I don’t know how long I’ve been passed out. I still feel slightly high, but nowhere near as high as before. I look up and see my head is lying on Carter’s lap while he reads a book and looks deep in thought as I stir my limbs awake.

  “Hey, I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Feeling better, sweetheart?” Carter grabs my hand and kisses me on the inside of my wrist, something he’s done from the first time he helped me get high. A kiss I’ve grown to love.

  I’ve told him most of my secrets. We’ve talked about my childhood in Memphis, losing my parents when I was sixteen and my strained relationship with Delilah. He knows about Drake and my troubled relationship, and why I was really at the park the day we met. Again, he passes no judgment. I’m an open book and it feels good to talk to someone about all the shit in my life. Someone who won’t criticize me or my actions, they’ll simply allow me to be me.

  I look over to the clock and realize Drake will be home any minute with Mia. I want to be passed out when he gets there, but in order to do that, I need to get high again. My supply is gone and I am completely out of money. Maybe because we’re friends he’ll let it slide this time or maybe I can give him something in exchange for a bag of heroin, but what?

  “Hey, I need to get going soon and I’m hoping you could give me one hit for the road.” I give him the most innocent look I can possibly muster, hoping he will cave.

  I’ve seen Carter turn many people down if they don’t have the money. He thinks nothing of it when he slams the front door in their face. I just hope he doesn’t do that to me. I need him right now. I need to be numb before I have to face the guilt of my choices in Drake’s broken and sad eyes.

  “Sure. I can do that for you.” He gets up from the couch and I stand as well, following him to his stash hidden under a false drawer in the kitchen. Carter pulls out a small bag filled with a substantial amount of white powder. “Okay. This is some pretty intense shit I got in yesterday. It will cost a little more, but it’s totally worth it. I’ll give you a discount because I like you so much and give it to you at cost. How’s one hundred and fifty sound?”

  My jaw practically hits the floor. It’s a lot more than I paid in the past and I sure as hell don’t have that kind of money, especially now that Drake and I are on the outs. What the fuck am I going to do? “I don’t have any money,” I admit.

  “So you were expecting to just walk out of here with a free bag and I get nothing in return? That’s fucking crazy, Presley. You know I don’t give handouts. Why don’t you come back down when you get your allowance? Then you can spend the rest of the night getting loaded with me.” Carter sets the bag down on the table and stands in front of me with a big smile on his face. He’s not intimidating and I don’t think he will hurt me, but I’ve got to have my fix before I leave. So I do the only thing I can think of to get what I want. The worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I seduce him.

  Slowly walking to bridge the gap between Carter and myself, I wrap my arms around his neck. He instantly stills, not moving one inch. Then I stand on my tip toes and touch my lips to his. They are soft, welcoming and warm. Momentarily, Carter kisses me back then pushes my shoulders backwards so he can study my face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Look, I’m not going to let you whore yourself out for drugs, you’re better than that.”

  “Is that why you think I kissed you because of the heroin?”

  “Then why did you kiss me?” he whispers as the gaze in his eyes burns holes right through me.

  “I…I don’t know. I just wanted to. I like you.” I’ve never told a bigger lie in my life. Although I do like Carter’s friendship and the easy access to drugs, that’s all I like about him. I don’t have a physical attraction toward him. When I close my eyes and imagine myself with anyone in that way it’s Drake I see. It will always be Drake. “I just wanted you to know how I’ve been feeling and I’m not the greatest with words.”

  Carter simply stares at me, studying me for what feels like hours then suddenly he crashes his lips into mine. We are instantly tangled in each other’s embrace, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I’ve liked you from the moment I met you at the park. I’ve been waiting so long for you to say that,” he speaks into my lips, but I can’t say anything back to him because I know how wrong this is, and by the time this is over, it will only end badly.

  I let him kiss me for several minutes, let his lips run up and down my neck and under my jaw. I let his hands pull down the straps of my cami and cup my breast because I am desperate and a horrible person. I pray it doesn’t have to lead to anything more. I don’t know if I can give him more.

  I finally muster up something to say so I can get my fix and leave. “I have to go. Drake will be home soon and I need to be there when he gets back with Mia. Are you going to let me give you money…you know, later tonight?”

  “Fuck the money. You just gave me something better than money and that’s you. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve been dying to be close to you.” He grabs my
face again, pushing his lips into mine.

  I’ve royally screwed this up, and before I can stop him from kissing me again, he continues to declare his feelings between every peck. I don’t feel disgusted, Carter is a highly attractive guy, but I do feel like this will soon come back to bite me like everything else I’ve screwed up in my life.

  As he pulls away he says, “You’re so fucking special to me, Presley. I’ve never felt comfortable with anyone. I really don’t have any friends. In this business, you only have acquaintances, not friends.”

  He moves away from me and gets everything set up to inject me again. I twitch in anticipation, eager to be numb again. What I’ve just done to Drake will surely end us if he finds out. Regardless of what I’ve said to Drake in the past, I don’t hate him. I love him and I can’t bear the thought of a single day without him.

  “Okay, hang on, Presley. This has a little bit more of a kick than the usual stuff.”

  Chapter 11

  Drake

  The three of us pull into my apartment complex just after eight at night. Delilah and Darcie insisted they come with me to convince Presley to get help for her depression. When we make our way up the stairs, I unlock the door then step into our quiet apartment. Presley is probably asleep in our bedroom, what she’s always doing when Mia and I get home.

  I walk down the hall to Mia’s room. The only light comes from her flower nightlight plugged into the wall adjacent to her dresser. I lay Mia’s sleeping body in her crib and then kiss her cheek before I shut the door behind me. Now it’s time to confront the demon, the depression holding Presley captive.

  My heart is rapidly pounding in my chest, cracking my ribs with every accelerated pump. My nerves are on edge, I have a bad feeling about this. Presley is going to fight this every step of the way, she’s strong and she won’t go down without kicking and screaming first. However, I’ve got a pretty big fight still left in me because I believe what we have together is stronger than any disease. Our love together is the strongest cure for anything that may plague us with its sickness. We are forever.