by Harloe Rae
When my mother showed up last week to visit me, I screamed the most horrifying obscenities directly in her face and watched as she slowly cowered in fear. I brutally terrified the shit out of her to ensure she wouldn’t dare come back. She eventually looked at me like the monster I am, which only made me feel worse.
I am a bottomless pit of fucked up.
Even though it’s the truth, and I deserve her fear, I still feel the sting from how easily she gave up. I’m such a contradictory asshole but I can’t seem to find energy to do anything about it. I’m stuck in what feels like a murky hole with zero hope to escape.
Nothing can save me. The destructive corruption begins to take over my thoughts and swirls through my mind. The hate within me begins to bubble to the surface, threatening to suffocate me.
Vicious.
Dangerous.
Wretched.
Savage.
Cruel.
The venomous words are pounding into my skull.
I’m a deranged beast that deserves to fucking suffer.
Soon the flashbacks will crash down on me and drag me into the black abyss. One sure way to shut this shit up is to get wasted. So that’s exactly what I do.
There is a bottle of whiskey on the counter calling my name. I stocked up on booze on my way out here. I also scheduled for some random person to drop off other necessary supplies a few times a month. I might be fucking crazy but starving to death isn’t the way I want to go.
My hands are shaking as I fill a glass to the brim before guzzling it back. The liquor burns my throat but that only fuels my desire for more. I drink until the memories are fuzzy, the screams are quiet, and the images are distorted. I slam back another glass of the amber liquid for good measure.
Bile suddenly rises in my throat so I stagger to the bathroom on unstable legs. The contents of my stomach empty into the toilet bowl once my knees slam to the ground. The vomit is foul as fuck and the smell causes more puke to spew out. I gag and choke before spitting more shit out.
I’m so fucking disgusting.
After I’m done heaving my fucking guts, I wobble over to the shower. I crank the dial to the hottest setting so my blood could boil from the scorching heat. This fucked up coping mechanism seems to aggravate the demons even more but I don’t give a shit. Once the steaming stream hits my numb body, I hiss in a mixture of pain and relief.
For a single moment, as I am scrubbing myself raw, it feels like the pain is washing down the drain with layers of my flesh. The scalding water burns like hell as it pelts against my weary frame but I remain standing under the spray until the temperature turns cold.
I am always fucking freezing so I didn’t need to add that extreme to this psychotic torture. My abused skin feels like melted wax that is beginning to cool, which was the desired effect. I’ve temporarily reshaped any lingering evidence of the ghosts leering from the shadows. Maybe I could focus on the physical pain instead of the fucked up bullshit constantly racing through my mind.
I don’t bother with a towel because I don’t deserve the luxury. I sway on my feet before my spent limbs carry me toward the bed. Once I’m close enough, I land face first into the mattress.
The last conscious thought I have is of my buddy, in the front seat of the Humvee, smiling at me over his shoulder. Then darkness creeps into the edges of my vision before taking over completely.
* * *
When I put the address into Google Maps, the pin appears in what looks like the middle of an open field. Strange but somewhat expected after what my mom told me. It will take over three hours to get there so I plan on this being an all day ordeal. My only hope is that Xander actually lives at this place and it isn’t just a wild goose chase.
The winter weather in Minnesota is always unpredictable and of course snow started falling as soon as I left my house. My car wasn’t the most reliable in these conditions and the bald tires slid along the slick highway as I increased my speed. The steering wheel shook from the effort but that could also be from my nerves.
I was desperate to reach Xander and a tiny storm wouldn’t stop me. The past twenty-four hours were exasperating as I prepared for my trip. I was ready for any emergency that might come my way. I made sure the first-aid kit was in my trunk. There were extra blankets in the backseat and a bag of essential supplies rested next to me in case I got stranded.
The fluffy snowflakes transform into a blinding blast of white as I keep a steady foot on the gas pedal. The farther I traveled, the worse it got, but I refused to turn back. I was being handed an overdue opportunity to see Xander and I refused to turn back. I was intrinsically motivated to see my friend and finally find out what happened to him.
I’ve always been the responsible one, the caretaker, and the person others relied on in times of need. It’s no surprise I went into the human services field. When Xander dropped all communication with those of us back home, I knew I would never be able to rest until I got answers.
The app alerts me that my destination is approaching on the right. Visibility is pretty minimal but I’m going slow enough that I can stop as soon as I see the house. Or so I think. Turns out the place is settled far back from the road. The only evidence of an avenue to reach it is marked by a broken post sticking straight up on one side.
The driveway is a serious challenge to navigate due to the deep layers of snow hindering my travel. By the time I reach the house, my hands are cramping from the fierce grip I’ve had on the steering wheel. I’m so relieved to have survived mostly unharmed that I don’t pay attention to the condition of the building I am now parked in front of. Until now. There is no possible way anyone is living in there. It looks totally deserted. From the sunken roof to the dismantled porch, this shack seems beyond repair.
I didn’t come all this way to just turn around upon assumption. Forcing my car door open brings a cold blast of wintery wind to freeze my face. Lovely. The dense powder reaches my knees when I start trudging my way to the questionable stairs. My boots sink further with each step. Not willing to take any chances, I forgo the stairs and hop directly onto the porch. From what little I can see through the cracks in the boards across the windows, it looks like all lights are off and no one is home. I give a tentative knock just to make sure.
As the door swings open, the beaming smile I had plastered on my face instantly disappears. I have to try extremely hard not to let the gasp escape past my lips. I think I succeeded but the stranger standing in front of me gives no hint one way or the other. This man is the definition of intimidating and I’m not quite sure how to handle this situation.
He’s not the Xander I used to know. That much is obvious. In the three years it’s been since I last saw him, he appears to have aged fifteen. The lower half of his face is covered in a thick beard, his hair has grown out and almost reaches the bottom of his ears, his shoulders appear wider than the doorframe, but it’s the haunted look in his eyes that frightens me the most.
What happened to my best friend?
As I’m busy digesting these changes, I fail to notice Xander’s death grip on the wood and the angry growl coming from his throat. Is he really growling? Sounds like it. Pretty sure he would have white foam coming out of his mouth if possible. This man is clearly not pleased to see me. I know he would never hurt me but I can’t help feeling cautious when he’s got that dangerously violent look to his stare.
Raw.
Dark.
Detached.
Yet somehow thrilling.
We are both still staring at each other, not making any movements, and I start to feel impatient. I have a horrible habit of having to always fill awkward silences and I’m scared my big mouth might cause serious issues right now. Why is he just standing there? Does he not remember me? Maybe he has memory loss . . .
Seriously, how long can this game of chicken go on? My fingers are knotted together with nervous energy while his are clenched so hard his knuckles are white. I should be the one to say something. Right? I’m c
learly the idiot who showed up unannounced and obviously unwanted.
This moment revives a distant memory, from an extremely different time. When Xander and I first met, we were children. He was new in town and had wandered into the neighborhood park where I was playing. I turn my face away from this drastic contradiction to the kid I met that day. As tears build in my eyes, I let the past wash over me.
I pumped my legs faster so I could swing higher. I loved the feeling of flying, even though I was scared of heights. It was so fun to compete with my friends to find out who was the bravest. On my next downward pass, I caught sight of a boy around my age. He was alone and standing on the outer edge of the playground. He looked really sad and lonely so I decided he needed a pal.
I wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers but this didn’t count. I jumped off my swing and skipped over to the mysterious newcomer. He saw me coming and got a weird look on his face. Maybe he doesn’t feel good. When I was standing in front of him, I stuck out my little hand to properly introduce myself.
“Hi. My name is Willow Connor and I am eight years old. What’s your name?” I made sure to smile so he knew I wanted to be friends.
He stood still for a while before slipping his cool palm against mine so we could shake. I got a funny flutter in my tummy when he touched me, but it was a nice feeling, so I didn’t pull away. We stared at each other without saying anything until I got antsy. I loved talking so I didn’t understand why he was so quiet.
I tried again. “Do you want to play with me?” When he nodded his head and took a small step closer, I decided he was just shy. I could speak for both of us. No problem. That actually sounded really great and I decided we would be best friends.
A pleasant warmth blankets me as I recall the importance of that day. Once I dragged Xander around, explaining my favorite things, he relaxed and told me his name. Our bond seemed to form overnight and we became inseparable. I couldn’t give up on him. Not then, and definitely not now.
“Xander?” I manage to squeak out. Before I can say more, he takes a step closer and, if possible, displays a more menacing look. The younger version of him fades quickly into smoke. My precious memories don’t belong here.
“I thought I made it perfectly fucking clear last week by not answering the door that I want to be left the hell alone. You think I’m living out here to get bothered by anyone that randomly decides to stop in for a visit? NO! So turn the fuck around, get in your car, and LEAVE. ME. ALONE!” With that jarring roar, he steps back and slams the door with such force the whole front of the house shudders.
I’m left standing on the porch in shock. That was definitely not the way I envisioned our reunion going. The absolute devastation echoes through me as I consider what must have taken place for Xander to become the person I just saw. He was so mean and so . . . so cold. My friend was never rude a day in his life but this man was bitter and furious.
What happened?
With no other choice, I turn around to leave. The snow is falling even harder now as I stumble back to my car. There is no way I’m getting out of this driveway but I don’t want to risk another encounter with that behemoth of a man. I’ll sleep in my car if I have to. I don’t think Xander took the time to notice how many inches were already covering the ground. I don’t think he noticed much of anything at all.
* * *
After I slam the door, I hurl my body against it out of frustration before sliding down to the floor. I bang my head against the wood because I’m still in shock over what just happened. What the fuck was she doing here? After all these years, I never expected her to just show up like we were still friends. That’s fucking laughable.
I haven’t had a friend since they all got blown up and I was left to survive in this world alone. That’s my punishment and I own that shit. They’re all dead. Gone in an instant. Buried in the cold ground. Never to breathe precious air into their lungs again. I can’t even pay tribute to their lives without having a fucking meltdown. I’m such a freak.
I don’t deserve to be cared about when they all had that privilege brutally stolen away from them. I’ll be secluded the rest of my miserable life and I won’t expect anything more. I have confined myself to solitude out here to suffer in silence. I don’t need anyone checking up on me like I’m some invalid.
I will never allow anyone to offer me comfort or relief from the hell I’m trapped in. The depressing loneliness only exacerbates my misery and reality is slipping further away each day I remain in solitude. I don’t know how fucking long I can survive without giving a shit. I can’t fucking accept these opposing existences clashing together.
I bash my head back against the thick door again, just to feel the pain. When I get started down this ugly path, it is almost impossible to stop the rage and panic from taking over. I’m such a fucking pussy. Getting all bent out of shape because she showed up. I thought today was going to be decent.
I know I should be thankful to be alive, to still feel my heart beating in my chest, but I don’t feel so lucky. I’m haunted by the horrific images of my comrades dying, the bombs blasting through the air, the screams of innocent lives ending well before their time. That shit will stick with me for the rest of my life, as it should. The wrong guys died that day and I would have gladly taken their place.
I’m ashamed that the sole survivor of my entire troop has turned into this sniveling idiot. I’m a disgrace to their memory and I can’t seem to do a damn thing about it. I can’t even have a conversation with my mother or my best friend.
It’s so fucking strange that Willow popped up out of nowhere. Her unexpected presence brings a lot of conflicted confusion that I really can’t handle. I already think about her far too often but suddenly she appeared, like a fucking ghost from my past. I could almost trick myself into believing the vision of her was another hallucination, but I couldn’t replicate her level of perfection. Willow’s enticing scent assaulted me and left my mouth fucking watering. I almost reached out to stroke her porcelain cheek until I remembered the fucking repercussions that touch would bring.
Her silky brown hair looked black against the blizzard backdrop. Her emerald irises were sparkling with mischief and curiosity, but more was hidden in their depths. If I really wanted to waste time analyzing pointless shit, I could convince myself there was love swirling in her captivating greens.
She was fucking gorgeous.
Seeing Willow again is like taking a direct hit to my chest. I loved that girl with all I had to give but never did a damn thing about it. She was always so pure and bright. What could she ever see in a loser like me? I wanted to make something of myself so I had more to offer her. I wanted to be a man she would be proud to claim.
The fantasy of us getting hitched and having a fleet of children when I was done with my tour had kept me company. I often dreamed of it on those long, lonely nights. Too bad I was always too chicken shit to tell her my feelings and now she will never know. Fuck, I missed her something fierce but I couldn’t even talk to her when she showed up at the door. I just pushed her away and hid behind my bullshit armor.
My head falls into my hands and then I yank on my hair. What the fuck have I done? The one chance I get to speak to Willow and I act like a demented moron. She sure as hell won’t be coming back. I made sure of that, just like with my mother. No point dwelling on it. Not like she would want anything to do with me once she realized what I’ve become. I’m sure she kicked up rocks with how fast she tore out of here.
I slowly stand and stretch before securing all the locks. When I glance out the window, I’m shocked to see a car in my driveway. Why is Willow still here? With a closer look, it seems her tires are spinning in the thick snow that now covers the ground. She keeps trying to move forward, which is only making the ruts she’s stuck in worse. Willow is not going anywhere anytime soon if she keeps that up.
Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to go out there to help her. How can I do that without speaking to her?
> I can’t believe this shit.
It looks like I’ll get another chance after all. How quickly can I fuck it up this time?
* * *
“Crap!” I yell out and slam my palms against the steering wheel. Even in this unfortunate situation, I can’t force an actual swear word past my lips. I blow out a heavy exhale before resting my head on my arm. I need to get out of here before Xander finds me lingering on his property. I can’t even imagine his reaction.
My rear tires keep spinning as I slam on the gas again, hoping to actually gain traction this time.
Gosh, dang it! What am I supposed to do?
I grab my cell but since I’m apparently on the set of a low budget horror film, it has no reception. At least I was smart enough to pack a charger. I would laugh at the ridiculous cliché if I wasn’t the one stuck out here. I gnaw on my lip as the worry materializes and intensifies.
With one glance out the window, I know it’s a terrible idea to attempt hiking to the road in order to catch a signal. I wouldn’t make it. I can hardly see a few feet in front of me, let alone the end of the driveway. It’s also starting to get dark, which only adds to the nightmare backdrop.
I’m trapped out here in the middle of freaking nowhere. This place is surrounded by open fields on one side and dense forest on the other. So yeah, I’m totally stranded with no hope of rescue. Who comes to plow the massive driveway in situations like this?
That stranger locked inside the house isn’t going to help me. Just my luck. This is what I get for trying to be caring and compassionate. I can’t forget curious. It’s the last one that always gets me into these messes. My friends would be laughing their butts off at my internal shaming right now.
A loud bang on the trunk of my car causes a high-pitched scream to rush out of my throat. Why is all this scary stuff happening to me at once? I bump my head on the window and nearly have a heart attack as I try to assess the threat.