Beast: Learning to Breathe Devil’s Blaze Duet

by Jordan Marie

  I manage to bite my tongue and not say anything. She’s on the fourth stair before visions of her driving down the road in that death trap come to mind. I can virtually see her pulling out at a stop sign and the piece of shit decides to quit and she gets t-boned. The vision is so clear, I growl and she jumps. Her hand tightens on the wooden rail as she looks over her shoulder at me.

  “I’ll take you,” I mutter. “I have to go into town anyway,” I lie. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Oh…you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine—”

  “Let’s go,” I order, putting the muffins on the table, and grabbing my keys that are lying there. I’m fucking losing my mind. I prove that further by grabbing her hand and helping her walk down the stairs so she won’t fall.

  I’m taking Hayden to the doctor. I didn’t yell at her for invading my space. I didn’t demand she leave me alone. I haven’t done one thing that I needed to do.

  It’s clear I’m swimming in a bucket of fucking insanity at this point.

  26

  Hayden

  I think I’m getting used to Michael. I might even like him. Which shocks me to death. When I…escaped the only thing I wanted out of life was to be…alone. I sure as hell didn’t want to be around another man for the rest of my life. It’s different with Michael though. He’s not like that. He’s never acted in a sexual manner toward me. He’s never even acted in a manner that would indicate he even looks at me like a female. It’s strange, but in my mind, he’s become asexual. We’re friends. I’ve never had one except for Charlie—especially a male one.

  “You really didn’t have to do this,” I tell Michael again.

  In response, he gives me his signature grunt. The man just doesn’t speak a lot. It kind of makes me smile. I lean into the door, my head pressed against the window as I watch the rain begin to fall outside. I love the rain. I could watch it for hours upon hours. It feels…clean…it even smells clean. There are days when I feel like I’ll never be clean again.

  We’ve pulled into the doctor’s office way before I’m ready. I give Michael a tentative smile. He’s pulled up to the door so I’m taking that to mean he’s not planning on going inside. That’s good…I guess. I’m starting to feel better when he’s with me. I should worry about that. “Thanks, Michael,” I tell him gently. I even find myself patting his hand again, which garners me another grunt, and makes me smile yet again.

  The smile soon fades as I enter into the waiting area. I go to the desk and sign in, before taking a seat. I’m the only person in the room, and I figure it shouldn’t take long. After thirty minutes, I’m starting to realize I was wrong. I look through the glass, front entrance doors and see Michael out there. The rain has stopped and he’s standing beside his truck now, leaning over the side of bed, his head down as his hand rests against the top of the bedside. He’s so big and tall, he makes his truck look small. His face is hidden beneath the hair. He hasn’t pulled it back and it blends in with his long beard. His long sleeved blue flannel shirt covers every inch of his massive arms and is buttoned even to cover his neck. It looks good on him, but…wrong. His jeans are dark wash, with just the faintest hint of distress here and there while the big boots he wears ensures he looks like a man no one would mess with. I think he could even make the Dwellers quake in fear. That thought makes me smile. Michael picks that moment to look up and even through the distance and the glass door separating us, I’m sure he sees me. His eyes bore into me and the anger in that look makes my smile falter. In that moment, I wonder if Pastor Sturgill is right, because he looks like an avenging angel—beautiful but tragically filled with vengeance. My heart hurts for the pain I read clearly on his face.

  “Ms. Graham,” the receptionist calls, pulling my attention away from Michael. I swallow down my nerves and walk to the front desk.

  “I’m here,” I smile, my smile is met with a stern face though. Stern isn’t exactly the right word. It’s more like resting bitch face.

  “There’s a conflict with your appointment. The receptionist shouldn’t have scheduled the appointment for today. Wednesdays are days when the doctor is not in the office.”

  “But you’re the one who scheduled—”

  “I’m very sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “But I’m scheduled for an ultrasound. They were supposed to check on the baby because I’ve been sick.”

  “There’s nothing I can do. You do know there’s a free clinic to deal with people like you? If it’s urgent you should try there.”

  It’s crazy, I know. They’ve been treating me like crap the entire time I’ve been coming to the doctor here. Yet, I hadn’t realized just how deep their hate went until just now when it slaps me in the face. I’ve taken a lot. I’ve paid over and over for my supposed crimes. I think I’m done. I’m about to tell her that when this large, ink-covered fist comes down against the reception desk.

  “The doctor will see her today,” Michael growls. His fist hits the counter so hard that the stuff that’s on it literally bounces. I wonder for a second if it might crack and break, but miracle of miracles it holds together.

  “Sir—”

  “I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you spoke to Hayden. I’m done with you. I want to talk to your boss. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Now!” he growls, and the anger coming off of him is like nothing I’ve seen before. I’m nervous just witnessing it. His body is seriously vibrating and his voice is dark—deadly.

  I spare a glance at the receptionist, and notice her face has gone white. She has also backed up a good five steps. If I was her, in the face of Michael’s wrath, I’d quickly go into another room. Maybe another state.

  “Michael…” I whisper, thinking maybe I should talk him down. I’d hate for him to end up in jail over this.

  Michael grunts at me, literally that’s all he does. Grunts. Then he turns back to look at the woman again. “You have two minutes and if I don’t have someone here, you won’t like what happens next,” he tells her, and this time his voice is quiet and soft, but somehow, it’s even more menacing.

  I watch as the receptionist visibly swallows and runs from the room.

  Oh boy…

  27

  Beast

  I rub my hand along the back of my neck, the tension is getting to me. I can feel a hell of a headache coming on. I need my fucking head examined. Somehow, I’ve gone from this morning where I was done with all things Hayden to now, a few short hours later, where I find myself waiting in a dark room while she has a sonogram. A sonogram of the child she’s carrying. I never thought of myself as a masochist but fuck, maybe I am.

  “Let’s see what’s going on in there,” the nurse says, watching me instead of Hayden. I don’t respond. This whole place is fucked up. When I heard the way that woman talked to Hayden, I had to put a stop to it. Hayden had been in the hospital. She needed to be monitored closely, and I don’t care what the fuck the problem is between her and Hayden, that child is innocent.

  That’s the only reason I did it, too. It didn’t have shit to do with the look of hurt on Hayden’s face—not at all. Hayden is looking up at me now, and the look on her face bothers me. It’s almost like hero worship, and I’m no one’s fucking hero. I should tell her flat out! Tell her that I couldn’t care less how people treat her. I start to. I really do. It’s just when the nurse raises her sweater up and reveals her stomach I get sucker-punched.

  I’ve seen her stomach through her clothes. I’ve never seen it revealed like this. It’s smaller than I originally thought, which means Hayden is a fuck of a lot skinnier than I realized. But, her stomach does have a noticeable bump with the skin stretched tight accentuating it. With all the times I’ve seen her in those oversized clothes, somehow, I expected her stomach to be larger. Right now, it seems so small…delicate…something in need of…protection.

  I watch as the nurse squeezes out a jelly-like substance on Hayden’s stomach and proceeds to spread
it around. I watch her move the wand around and adjust buttons on the machine. All at once the noise blasts from the machine. My body stiffens as I hear it. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that noise. The last time was when Jan was pregnant…with my daughter. This isn’t my daughter…this is Hayden’s…but still it does something to me. It’s a clear sound, strong, steady; the sound of it hits me. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to hear it. This child is nothing to me. But…hearing the heartbeat causes a warmth to hit me. I want to write it off as nothing, but before I can attack the emotions that are being unleashed Hayden reaches out and grabs my hand. Now it is shock that courses through me.

  The other day in the car, Hayden moved her thumb over my scars. I still hadn’t processed what her touch did to me. Here she is, reaching out grabbing my hand, holding it tightly in hers, and she’s doing it all while her child’s heartbeat is echoing around us. I look down at our joined hands. Mine are scarred and inked. Hers are pale, small, with long slender fingers, and the nails trimmed short and unadorned. It looks wrong. It feels wrong. Yet…at the same time it feels…right. Fuck.

  I should pull my hand away. Yet, for some reason I don’t. Then the nurse turns the screen around. Her words get lost to me. They’re drowned out by the beating of the child’s heart and the roar in my ears. But my eyes are glued to the screen as she points to different areas on the screen. She shows the head and legs and inside the body you can see it. The small, flickering beat of a tiny heart.

  The sight on the screen shouldn’t mean anything to me. The child is not mine, but instead, there’s this warmth inside of me, spreading through parts that have been cold for far too long. A purpose. A sense of duty comes over me. I wasn’t able to save Annabelle. I failed. This child, I can protect her. God knows the woman suddenly clutching my hand right now needs a protector. Which means so does her child. An innocent child. In a world of darkness innocence should be protected.

  I can do that. It won’t set right my failures of the past. Yet, it might help me to breathe without feeling like I shouldn’t. Perhaps this is why I was spared. To be here in this exact place for this child.

  “It’s Maggie,” Hayden whispers, and I look down at her. There are tears streaming down her face. Silent tears, but tears of joy. She’s a puzzle. I had her pegged to be just like Jan, but there’s no doubting that she’s happy. There’s no doubting she cares for this child. I don’t know what to do with these urges to protect them. I don’t know what this means. The only thing I can be sure of is that I can take care of Hayden and this child. I can make sure they’re safe. That’s my reason.

  My purpose.

  28

  Hayden

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen her. They don’t like to do ultrasounds until you get further along. I’m only four months. So, I hadn’t been able to see her. Wasn’t she the most beautiful baby you ever seen?” I ask Michael as we make it out to the truck.

  In response, he gives me his trademark grunt. It makes me grin. A true grin. It’s one that makes me feel warm and happy. He seems so tough and cold, but I looked at his eyes as he watched the screen. Maggie got to him too. That has to mean I was right, and he’s one of the good guys. I’ve seen evil...I’ve lived with it and that is not who Michael is. I feel safe around him. That couldn’t happen if he was like the others. I was right in letting my guard down around him.

  “If you hadn’t seen her before then how do you know she’s a girl?” Michael asks.

  The tech didn’t reveal the sex of the baby. She said she was being shy.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I just have a feeling. She’s definitely a girl,” I tell Michael, and his reply is a grunt, and I can’t stop myself from laughing this time.

  I pull my eyes away from Michael, and watch as we turn back on the road. I expected him to head us in the direction of the house. Instead, he turns in the direction of town. Before I can question him, he grunts out—a word this time.

  “Hungry,” he rumbles out, and there’s a moment of panic. I might be congratulating myself on letting my guard down and trusting my neighbor, but it’s panic just the same. Something about going out in public with him seems...scary. That doesn’t make sense. I mean we were together at the doctor’s office. I held his hand when I looked at my child for the first time. How can sharing a meal with him be scary? It’s still there though. That feeling of panic and flushed heat that makes my heart pound against my chest.

  As he pulls into the diner, I try to convince myself it’s because we’re going to eat at the place I work. My co-workers will assume that he and I are dating. Which we’re not. That would be preposterous. I mean, all you have to do is look at him and you can see that Michael would never pick someone like me to date. We’re just friends. I’ll make that clear and everything will be okay. It’s just a lunch meeting with friends. People have those all the time...right?

  Well okay, I don’t, because I don’t really have friends. But I’m sure for regular people, a lunch together would be…normal. I’ve always longed for a normal life and maybe that’s what is happening. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so panicky. I’m getting a real life, finally. One my brother can’t ruin, and one no one can take away from me. With that thought, I am out of the truck and meeting Michael in front of his truck the minute we park.

  Michael gives me a frown, the kind that could make my knees quake—if we weren’t friends. But since we are, I just grin up at him. This earns me another grunt. He puts his hand on the small of my back and directs me toward the front door. His hand is warm against my back and momentarily flusters me as we go through the doors.

  “Hey, Hayden, I didn’t know you worked today,” Liese calls out. I don’t see Charlie anywhere, which is unusual. I smile at Liese, who next to Charlie is probably the only one in town that really cares about me. She might even miss me if something happened to me. I haven’t talked to her a lot, but she’s been good to me and helped me before when I was in a jam. I’ve watched her little boy a few times, and I’ve given her some baked goods from time to time. Until Michael, that’s the only friendship I’ve ever truly worked at keeping. Liese is good people and though she doesn’t know my full past, I realize she knows some of it. She knows it, and she doesn’t judge me. She doesn’t shy away from letting others know that she likes me. That means a lot to me.

  “I’m not. Michael brought me into town for my doctor’s appointment, and we decided to grab some lunch,” I tell her with a smile. I’d stop at the front bar and sit down so I could talk to her, but Michael keeps his pressure on my back. I go with him to the main back table. I usually like to hide against the wall on the few occasions I have ventured out. Michael doesn’t give me that option. Instead, he puts me in the chair facing the wall, while he takes the one against the wall across from me.

  “What can I get you guys?” Liese asks, almost immediately. Michael looks at me pointedly—with another grunt. I swear I’d almost believe this guy was a caveman that was only recently unthawed from the ice. There was a movie about that. I think I’ll make it my mission to make Michael watch that someday...if I get the chance.

  “I’ll have a chocolate milk, peanut butter and banana sandwich with melted cheese, and French fries,” I tell her.

  “I’ll have the cheeseburger box,” his dark voice rumbles. “Lemonade for the drink,” he adds, and I can’t stop the gasp that comes out of my mouth.

  Liese grins at me and goes back toward the kitchen.

  “What?” he asks, when I don’t seem to form words soon enough to suit him.

  “I just...it’s just that...”

  “For a girl that talks so much, you have trouble forming sentences that make sense,” he grumbles, his voice cracking as he finishes, causing him to frown.

  “It’s just you don’t look like much of a lemonade drinker, Michael.”

  “They don’t sell whiskey here,” he answers, watching me closely.

  “Well, no. But I figured you for soda or a beer
man maybe.”

  “What’s wrong with lemonade?” He eyes me, confused.

  I shrug. “It seems so...cheerful,” I tell him, honestly, and for a second, I think he’s smiling. The muscles along his jawline moves and it could be entirely possible. It’s also impossible to know since he’s covered with so much hair.

  “What the hell is a peanut butter and banana sandwich?” he asks, turning my question back on me.

  “Elvis loved them,” I tell him, defensively.

  “With cheese?” he asks doubtfully.

  “I’m pregnant and apparently, Maggie demands them.” I shrug and there it is again. I’m pretty sure he’s smiling. I wish I could know for sure. “Can I ask you a question?” I propose, tilting my head a little, wishing I could see his lips. There’s a glimpse of them through the dark hair but that’s it. He gives me a heavy sigh, but he doesn’t say no. I’m going to count that as permission. “Does it hurt you to talk?” Shock comes over his face at my question. He wasn’t expecting it and it was probably a very rude question to ask, I couldn’t stop myself, however.

  Liese brings over our drinks, and he stares down at his lemonade, completely ignoring me. I figure that means he’s not going to answer. I’m kind of ashamed that I just asked him that question so bluntly. I shouldn’t have pried. I hate it when people do that to me. I don’t know what possessed me to be that way with Michael. I, of all people, should understand there are just some things that you don’t want to talk about. While the question seemed perfectly innocent to me, I know he’s covered in burns, and I can tell it had to be horrific just from the scarring. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it. I’m an idiot.

  “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just tight, and I hate hearing...I hate hearing the change in my voice,” he tells me, and I know he’s giving me absolute honesty. I cherish it, because I’m pretty sure Michael hasn’t spoken to people about this before. I don’t know why I think that, but I know enough to know he’s a solitary person, so I’d lay money on the fact that I’m right.