Slammed

by Skyla Madi

  Selena lowers her face to her knees and sobs. Blood trickles down her clean flesh and I turn away.

  Her pain, her anger…it soaks into my flesh. Every painful kick of sadness she feels vibrates through me, too. I know exactly how she feels. I know what it’s like to give someone everything you have and they refuse to take it. Fuck.

  It hits me like a freight train as I leave her room.

  I’m her Amelia.

  Chapter Four

  Jackson

  I hit the bag repeatedly until sweat drips from my body, along with my anger. After Selena’s house last night, I went home. I showered, got dressed, and sat on my front step until the sun rose in the distance. The whole time I felt bad for putting Selena in that situation again. It took me two hours to realize I should be the one mad at her. She knows how those three little words make me feel.

  Claustrophobic.

  Anxious.

  Vulnerable.

  I’m not going to lie, there’s a small part of me that ignites with hope whenever she says it. That small part believes, for the briefest moment, I’m capable of being loved…that I’m not completely destroyed by it. Once, a while ago, I felt ready to move on. We were in Concord for Seth’s fight. Everything was good between Selena and me. I was ready to make her a part of my life before Seth was ready to make Olivia a part of his…then the texts started. It was like Amelia could sense my happiness. At that point, I believed I’d never hear from Amelia again, but then that first text came and I panicked. Since then, things have been anything but easy between Selena and me. Every text clings to me like glue and wears me down like nothing before. Only Amelia has the ability to make someone want to throw up with a mere few words on a small screen.

  As soon as five a.m. rolled around, I drove to Seth’s gym. He didn’t say a word when he saw me—or bring up the cut on my brow. It was probably for the best. If he’d given me a speech about fighting underground, I would’ve cracked and said something I know I’d regret later.

  Which brings me to now.

  Glistening sweat coats my body, but it feels good. It’s exactly what I need. There’s nothing like punching a bag until your hands hurt and your limbs feel weak. I had to do something, and enrolling for another fight isn’t an option with an eyebrow like mine. I pound the bag harder and harder, hearing nothing but the sound of the metal chain grinding against the bar. The bag swings too much for my liking, but it’s better than nothing. Thoughts cloud my brain and squeeze tightly. I contemplate a million and one things. The first is leaving Portland. The second is apologizing to Selena and letting her in, and the third is driving my car off a fucking cliff. I pull my fist back. If the next blow splits my raw knuckle, I’ll do one of the three.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  I freeze before letting my fist fly. That fucking voice. I’d know it anywhere. I could pick it blindly from a line-up of a thousand women or more.

  Amelia Petrovic.

  I feel the color drain from my face. It’s not possible. Even if she is in Portland, the chances of her stumbling into me at Seth’s gym, of all places, are extremely slim.

  Slowly, I turn my head to glance over my shoulder…and there she is. My stomach rolls painfully before slamming into my ribcage. Her long hair cascades down her chest and curls under her breasts. Her white porcelain skin is as flawless as I remember, and her cherry red lips…her cherry red lips…even my breath catches in my throat. Of course she looks as beautiful as I remember. Sure, she’s a little older now, but there’s no denying she’s still killing it. The fact her appearance still has my stomach tying itself in knots doesn’t sit well with me. As I watch her, not only do I despise her for everything she’s done to me, but to Selena as well. Because of Amelia, Selena is miserable. If I had never met Amelia, I’d allow myself to be obsessed with Selena. I could love her like she loves me.

  I lower my fist and turn my body to face her. Her dark irises skirt over me. From head to toe she appraises me with a wild gleam in her eye before our gazes finally lock. I admit, in this very moment, I feel vulnerable. Everything I’ve worked so hard to overcome is flooding back to me. Amelia flattens her palms and runs them over her tight, black dress.

  “Portland?” She places her hand on her hip. “Really, Jackson?”

  I stare at her. Is this even real? I clear my throat. I’m not the same man I was back then. I’m stronger now.

  “It took you this long to realize I wasn’t in Seattle?” I ask, knowing the better option is to walk away and never look back.

  I’ve thought about this moment for years. I’ve thought about Amelia coming back into my life since the day she left. Most of my imaginings begin with me demanding to know why she left without an explanation and end when I storm away, leaving her feeling rejected and alone.

  She shakes her head. “No, I knew. It just took me a while to decide if I care.”

  I glare at her, closely watching the twitch that pulls at the corner of her mouth.

  “I do, by the way. That’s why I’m here.”

  I scoff. “That’s why you’re here? Years later?”

  Amelia rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Jackie. I’ve been texting you for a long time. You’re the one who doesn’t reply.”

  She steps closer. Her hand finds my hip. The only thing I can bring myself to do is remain completely still as she leans in, bringing her mouth closer to mine. “I’ve missed you.”

  I swallow hard. “You have?”

  She nods. “Every day.”

  Even while she speaks, her words as soft as silk, there’s a certain darkness to her tone. When Selena is being sincere I can see it on her face and hear it in her voice. It exudes from every pore and it feels warm and welcoming. With Amelia, it sets me on edge. It’s not warm or welcoming—it’s threatening, almost.

  “I saw your fight last night,” she purrs. “What are the odds? When they called your name, I couldn’t believe it. You destroyed that man…you have no idea how wet it made me.”

  I absorb her words and hang on every syllable. She was there last night? What the fuck? She’s right. What are the chances of that? Amelia reaches up to stroke my face with the back of her hand and I quickly snatch her wrist. Her dark eyes flare, her excitement suddenly pouring from her body. Her stare flicks between my eyes and my lips and I ponder kissing her for the briefest second, then my pride kicks in. She’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks I’m just going to fall back into bed with her and pretend she didn’t tear my god damn heart out and feed it to the dogs.

  “Get the hell out of Portland and stay the fuck out of my life.”

  With a small shove, I let go and push past her. I need to get out of the gym. The air is suddenly heavy, the walls not as steady as they were when I came in. I feel panic—as cold as ice and as heavy as concrete—fill my lungs. I can’t breathe. I swipe my forearm over my head and gasp for air. I need to get outside. I know Amelia is watching me and I can’t let her witness me have a fucking panic attack right now. It’ll jack up her ego and I’ll never live it down. She doesn’t call after me and I don’t expect her to. Amelia is many things, but a suck up isn’t one of them. She’ll crawl back into her web, refuel, and then hit me again. She’ll keep coming and coming…and I’m not sure I can do anything to stop her.

  As I reach the double doors, I push hard and it shoots open before slamming into the brick. The cool morning air rushes into my lungs and I stop in my tracks to hunch over, clenching my knees for balance. My heart decreases in its beat, slowing to a more ‘normal’ pace.

  I need to get out of here before Amelia decides to follow me. What if she knows where I live? Suddenly, the thought of leaving Portland or driving my car off a fucking cliff isn’t so bad. I can’t live in the same state as her and what if she finds out about Selena? Is Selena in any kind of trouble? Amelia is sick and twisted. There’s no telling what she’ll do. I storm towards my car, my own worries falling to the back of my mind. Right now, Selena
is my top priority. If I’m going to get through this…Selena has to know everything, and the thought alone is enough to make me to want to leave the country. As much as I despise the idea of letting her in, it’s the only way I can prevent her from being turned against me.

  I need her now more than ever.

  Selena

  I pound the space bar six times before I give up. With a heavy exhale, I lean back in my office chair and tap my fingers in a quick, frustrated beat along the arm rests. I’ve browsed every website, looking for a job. I need something, anything, to get me out of the house and out of my own head. Sadly, the only positions I seem qualified for are front counter positions at various fast food chains or nasty stripclubs. I entertained the idea of stripping once—only to piss off my dad. I even went as far as setting up an audition and having him drive me to it. It turns out I have the body for it, but my dancing is not nearly as impressive.

  For the millionth time, I fall back to last night. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking putting myself through that again. I don’t know how he does it, but somehow he always has a way of making me believe things will be different. They’re never different. Am I such a hard person to love? I do my best to make him happy, to give him everything he wants, but it’s just not enough. I don’t know what else to do. There’s only so many times you can throw yourself under a bus for someone before it kills you. When does it end? Why doesn’t the proverbial bus knock some sense into you while it crushes you underneath its giant rubber wheels? God knows I need it. The heart is undoubtedly the strongest muscle in your body, but it doesn’t deserve full commendation. It’s also the dumbest.

  I lean forward and snap the lid of my laptop shut. I contemplated calling Olivia earlier, but swiftly decided against it. I’ll admit what I did last night in seconds. She won’t even have to ask. I’m not sure I can stomach her lectures today. I feel bad enough and besides, it’s not always nice seeing a couple so perfect when your own relationship is crumbling before it even begins.

  Maybe it’s me. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. I get it, I’m too full on. God knows how many times I’ve heard that. People tell me I’m insane like it’s news to me, but the thing is, I know exactly who I am and I don’t care if I’m not somebody’s favorite person. I am who I am and I’m not going to change now. I talk too much, I can’t keep secrets, and I over-indulge in the alcohol department—or used to. Since when did that become a crime? Why can’t I live my life to my own standards instead of everyone else’s? I’m comfortable in my own skin and have no need to impress anyone. Most people toe the line, following the rules society sets out for them—like Olivia. Tell me, what does good even mean? It’s subjective, that’s for sure. What is good to me, is bad to everyone else. Nobody understands that I just want to live. I want adventure, I want one night stands with smoking hot guys and no responsibilities. I want life. Despite how strongly Olivia disagrees, Jackson gives me life. He carves his own path of light and darkness, bending it to his own desires. He is the light that fills me, he is the darkness that arouses me and he is the life I so desperately crave. He is clever and subtle, hiding who he really is deep down. He has his fangs in me and I can’t shake them, God knows I’ve tried. He’s bad for me. He’s bad for himself…a ticking time bomb with only a few seconds left, and though I beg for it every night, I don’t see a happy ending to our story. As my stream of consciousness falls into the sad realization it does every day, I distinctly hear the sound of a heavy truck door closing. Closing is an understatement, I suppose. It was more of a slam and there’s only one person I know who slams the doors of his car. Dread churns through me, which isn’t an uncommon feeling when he’s around. I cautiously push myself out of my chair, as if the slightest sound will alert him of my presence. I don’t want him to know I’m home and I definitely don’t want to let him in, especially not after last night. For me, last night was it. There is no more ‘us’ and I’m done trying. All I gotta do is cut him out, cold turkey. Then and only then, will I be able to move forward.

  I jump as his heavy fist connects with the front door. My heart races, pounding relentlessly against my ribs. I lift myself onto the tips of my feet in an attempt to quieten my steps.

  If I ignore him, maybe he’ll go away. Despite myself, I tip-toe from the office and make my way down the wide hall to the front door.

  “Selena!” he shouts. “I know you’re home.”

  I pause in my steps and strain my ears to listen.

  “I need your help…” His fists bang against the door, harder than the last. “Selena!”

  His voice sounds different—more panicked than aggressive, and my heart threatens to leap out of my chest. It begs me to open the door, but I’m not going down that road again. No way in hell.

  He bangs on the door repeatedly—over and over. Harder and harder. I cover my ears with my hands, willing for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He grows louder, more desperate, until I can’t take it anymore. I surge forward, stomping my legs like a frustrated toddler. Who does he think he is, knocking on my door like he has the god damn right?

  The knocks keep coming, powering the force of my legs as they carry me all the way to the front door. I pull it open.

  “What do you w—”

  I barely have time to register his worried expression before his large arms circle me and force me close to his body. Surprised, I stumble backwards and his heavy body follows, driving me back until I’m crushed between him and the wall. His distinct scent—a tantalizing deodorant mixed with sweat fills my senses and obscures them in a way that makes my core pulse.

  “Jackson?”

  His grip is tight and full of emotion—unlike anything I’ve ever felt from him before. He keeps his face buried into my neck and draped in my hair. My thoughts race—what’s wrong? What has him so spooked? Then, my stomach drops.

  “Is it Seth?”

  He shakes his head and I know the gesture was supposed to ease the unpleasant anxiety in my stomach, but it only gets worse. Subconsciously, I scan the room for my car keys.

  “Is it Olivia?” I gasp. “Chloe?”

  Again, he shakes his head. I blink back the tears that threaten to spill at the thought of something bad happening to the most important people in my life and swallow hard at a new assumption. Another woman, maybe? A jealous pang hits my stomach, but I ignore it. He’s here with me now and whatever happened mustn’t have gone down well.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, finally allowing my arms to circle his large frame. He doesn’t move—not even a shake of his head. Under my hands, his body trembles, so I hold him closer. His knees weaken and the weight of his heavy body pulls me down. We slide against the wall until my jean clad ass hits the hard tiles. Jesus. Whatever happened, it’s spooked him, and what happens next is something I never thought I’d ever see.

  Jackson cries.

  Like a small, frightened boy…he actually cries.

  Chapter Five

  Selena

  With a slight yawn, I open my eyes and stretch my legs, making sure I point my toes for maximum relief. I’ve always loved my bed. I imagine this is what sleeping on a cloud feels like. I pause. Why am I on my bed? Blinking my eyes to clear away sleep, I glance down. I’m fully clothed…which is rare following an interaction with Jackson. I scan the room for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Jackson?” I call out and wait for a reply.

  Nothing.

  I push myself out of bed onto wobbly, tired feet. I remember holding him while he cried. For hours, it seemed like. I peer out my bedroom window. The sun is low in the sky, casting dark afternoon shadows over my room. Did we sleep all day? I cross the floor to the bathroom and peer inside.

  No one.

  My phone managed to stay in my front pocket, so I pull it out and unlock the screen. A single text message symbol lights up the notification bar at the top and I open it.

  Sorry, Selena. For everything.

  At the end of the text,
a single love heart symbol glows. I stare at it, wondering what could possibly have changed him so suddenly. I lean against the bathroom doorframe and tap my phone against my thigh. There’s no way out of this one. He has to talk to me and explain what happened today. I won’t give him any other option. Using my phone, I call Olivia. Surely Seth knows something. The first time I try, it rings out to the answering machine, but the second time, I get a rather rude ‘hello.’ It took me a few long seconds before I realize her greeting wasn’t rude, more…out of breath and impatient.

  “Oh, gross,” I say, bypassing the standard hello. “In the gym? Really?”

  Failing to mask her chuckle, Olivia asks, “What do you want, Sel? I only have twenty minutes left before I pick Chloe up from Mom’s.”

  “All right, I’ll make it quick. Have you seen Jackson today?”

  With a muffled giggle, she tells Seth to stop under her breath and I roll my eyes.

  “No, I haven’t.” She pauses before her natural curiosity chimes in. “Why?”

  I ponder for the briefest second whether or not I should tell her. Jackson has given me strict warnings not share his issues with anyone else.

  “He showed up earlier and…” I pause, unable to bring myself to embarrass him by sharing that he cried. “He was different.”

  Olivia sighs. “Did you have sex?”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” she simply says, as if it’s a real shock to her. “Well, you know how he is, Selena. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

  I clench my fist. She doesn’t get it. She didn’t see him like I saw him. It wasn’t Jackson being Jackson. It was different. He fucking cried! I want to tell her—she’d believe something is wrong then.

  “Can you get Seth to call him when you have a minute? I’m worried, O. You didn’t see him…he was a mess.”

  “Sure. If you’re that worried, I’ll have Seth call him.”