Beauty in the Ashes

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “What’s wrong?” I asked in a soft voice, like one might use with a wild animal.

  Caelan stopped with his back to me, he looked out the window and his narrow shoulders rose and fell heavily. Now that the crashing and banging had stopped his heavy breaths were all that I heard.

  “What happened? You can tell me,” I pleaded, desperate to get him to say something to me other than to turn down my music or keep quiet.

  He turned angrily at my words. His nostrils flared and his eyes were filled with fury. Something about him reminded me of a fallen angel. He was harsh and dangerous, but I knew something had to have pushed him over the edge. I wanted to find out what it was, but trust took time, and I hadn’t earned his yet.

  “I can tell you? You?” He laughed under his breath but there was no humor in the sound. “You don’t fucking know me, so don’t pretend you do!”

  I would not cower down to him. Taking two measured steps forward, I stopped. “No, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. If you gave me a chance, you might see that you could trust me.”

  “Trust is non-existent. It’s a lie. The people I thought I could trust,” he pounded on his chest with a fist, “where are they? They’re gone, unable to handle my ‘destructive’ path. They wanted to fix me, but I don’t need fixing, Sutton. Is that what you want to do? Do you want to fix me?”

  Somehow, he’d ended up right in front of me. He was so close that our chests touched and you couldn’t have fit a piece of paper between us.

  “No.”

  “What?” He shook his head, seemingly taken aback by the word I’d dared to utter.

  “No,” I repeated. “I don’t want to fix you,” I swallowed thickly, grasping his forearms in my hands because I suddenly felt dizzy, “I want to know you.”

  He chuckled with a small smile. “Know me? I’m not the kind of guy any nice girl should want to get to know.” His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “I’m angry, I’m bitter, I’m broken, I’m lost. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t recognize the man I see in the mirror.” He clenched his teeth and looked away momentarily. I was shocked at his words, that he’d managed to open up that little bit. “I drink until I can’t remember, I get high to dull the pain, I hit things to feel something. That, Sutton, is not a good person. I know it, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” I breathed, my words barely above a whisper. “I want to be your friend. I want you to trust me. I’m not some fragile little butterfly that you need to worry about breaking the wings off of. Talk to me, please.”

  He looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes. There was so much pain etched into the lines of his face. I had never in all my twenty-two years of life seen someone so tormented. Something broke him. Something big. I knew it was none of my business, but I wanted to know. I wanted to gain his trust. I wanted him. I didn’t know why. It made no sense to me, but something drew me to him. Maybe this was some latent teenage desire to bag a bad boy—but it didn’t feel that way.

  I believed that sometimes people were brought together for a reason, because they both needed something the other could offer.

  “I need you to leave,” Caelan finally said, his eyes were distant and his voice was resolved. I could tell that he was angry at himself for what he’d said to me. I may have been living across the hall from him for over a month now, but we were still strangers, and Caelan struck me as the kind of guy that didn’t even open up to those closest to him—if there was anyone close to him, I thought back to the guy I saw in the car.

  Finally, I nodded, knowing better than to say anything else.

  I was almost out the door when he spoke up once more. “Keep the music down.”

  “In your dreams,” I muttered, smiling at the fact that for once I’d gotten the last word.

  ⌘⌘⌘

  Caelan

  As soon as the door had clicked shut I went back to destroying things. Nothing was left untouched—not even my paintings that I cherished above all else.

  I wanted to kill Kyle for what he had done—trying to shove me into rehab. I didn’t need to go to rehab. Rehab was for addicts, and I was not an addict. I could stop whenever I wanted, but that was the thing, I didn’t want to stop. The moment that I stopped would be the moment that I felt and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  He’d picked me up days ago and I’d been staying at his house.

  Then this morning, instead of bringing me home, the fucker tried to get me ‘help’.

  My reaction had been less than pretty. He’d ended up with a bloody lip and black eye, and the man who’d tried in vain to pry me from the vehicle possibly had a concussion from where I kicked his skull.

  When Kyle saw that leaving me there would only end up with my arrest, he let it drop…as in, he didn’t dump my sorry as there. Instead he lectured me like I was a child the whole time he drove me home.

  The fact that Kyle was lecturing me was laughable. In high school, I had often been the one keeping him in line. Now that he was finished with college, had a job, and was building his life, he expected the same from me.

  It wasn’t happening.

  I was destined to spend my life suffering in solitude. No sane human being could or would put up with my baggage and bullshit.

  With my chest heaving I looked around at the destruction.

  It was normal for my apartment to always be in some state of chaos. Be it because I was creating what I believed to be a masterpiece or I was just on a drunken binge. Clean was not the word anyone would ever use to describe this place.

  I knew I should do the ‘responsible’ thing and restore it to order, but frankly, I didn’t give a fuck.

  Grabbing a bottle of liquor—I wasn’t sure what kind since the label was gone—I screwed off the lid and brought my lips to the neck.

  The burn and fog brought upon by the strong mixture was what temporarily cleansed me of my sins. That haziness cocooned me in a protective shield that I reveled in. I sat on the couch, swallowing down the rest of the liquid. I fell to the side, closing my eyes so that I was unaware of the destruction. I began to hum, letting the sound and alcohol now permeating my bloodstream block out everything around me.

  Nothing else existed.

  Not even me.

  ⌘⌘⌘

  Sutton

  I decided I liked working the night-owl shift. I’d suffered with insomnia since I was a child, and that shift gave me something to do during the endless nights. Plus, Emery always seemed to work with me, and he was fun to have around.

  Tonight, unfortunately, was one of the nights he wasn’t working. I was stuck with Angela. The girl was nice enough, but she didn’t really like to talk, so it made the long shift boring. While Emery and I joked around and had fun, Angela was all business.

  “Customer!” Angela called to me, from where I’d snuck off in the back to check my phone. She acted as if I couldn’t hear that annoying bell hanging on the door and I didn’t understand why she couldn’t tend to the customer. She knew how to work the register. Bitch.

  I made my way to the front and stopped in my tracks, the door smacking me in the butt as it swung on its hinges, and I found myself face to face with Caelan.

  I was shocked to see him there. I’d worked at Griffin’s for a few weeks now and not once seen him set foot inside.

  He smirked, chuckling under his breath. “I d-didn’t know you worked here.” His words were slurred and he swayed slightly to the side.

  “I didn’t know you came here,” I countered, squaring my shoulders, and blatantly ignoring the fact that he was drunk.

  His smile widened and there was nothing nice about it. “Are you going to quit now?”

  “What?” I was taken aback. “No. Why would I do that?”

  His smile faded and his hazy eyes narrowed on me like a laser beam zoning in on its target. “Because I frighten you.”

  I let out a laugh that I couldn’t contain. “I hate to break it to you,
but I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You should be.” He stated, bracing his hands on the counter to keep from falling over.

  “But I’m not.” I placed a hand on my hip, tilting my head to the side. “Now,” I said slowly, “is there anything I can get you?”

  He ordered an iced coffee and a blueberry muffin. I couldn’t help laughing under my breath at Caelan ordering such a girly drink.

  I didn’t comment on his order as I made it and brought both items to his table. He sat in a chair with his head propped against the wall.

  I knew better than to ask if he was okay. He wasn’t.

  “Here’s your order,” I said softly, lest he have a raging headache from his drinking binge.

  He nodded in acknowledgement and I backed away.

  I wanted to ask him about what I saw this afternoon, with the man in the car and why it had made him so angry, but I knew he wouldn’t take kindly to my spying. I couldn’t help it though. Caelan fascinated me. He wasn’t the type of guy to spill his secrets. I would have to unravel his many layers of protective armor to figure out what kind of life altering experience could shatter a person so completely. I knew the bit I’d managed to get out of him this afternoon when I basically broke into his apartment—much like he had done to me the day I moved in—was only one layer of many.

  Hours later, it was time for me to head home. Caelan had passed out with his head on the table and his mouth hung open. There was even a little bit of drool dangling from the corner of his mouth. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.

  No amount of nudging or pushing or speaking of his name would get him to move.

  I refused to go home and leave him there. I’d never get any rest if I was worrying about him.

  “Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath.

  I breezed into the back, picking up a cup and filling it with water.

  “What are you doing?”

  I rolled my eyes at the sound of Angela’s voice. God, she was annoying.

  I looked over to where she had grabbed her purse from the locker.

  “Nothing,” I answered.

  “It doesn’t look like nothing,” she closed the metal door with a bang, cocking her head to the right as she waited for further explanation.

  “You know what it looks like to me?” I spoke with false sweetness. “None of your business,” my tone turned icy.

  Traipsing back out to the restaurant area, I lifted the red plastic cup high above Caelan’s head. I tipped it slowly, then said, what the hell, and dumped the entire contents of cold water on his head.

  He came awake with a wild flail of his arms and legs. He fell out of his chair, which came crashing down to the ground beside him.

  I couldn’t stop laughing.

  He looked so funny sprawled on the floor covered in water. He kind of resembled a very wet and confused puppy.

  “What the fuck was that for?” He peered up at me and droplets of water clung to his insanely long lashes.

  I shrugged innocently, letting the plastic cup fall from my hand. It clanged to the ground, bouncing a few times before rolling under another table. “Oops. My hand must have slipped.

  “Bullshit,” he muttered, sluggishly coming to his feet. His sneakers squeaked against the now wet floor. He was angry, but at least he was awake.

  “It’s time to go home,” I knocked my hand against his shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled, his face reddening as he roughly shrugged off my touch.

  I rolled my eyes at him and stayed where I was. “This whole anti-social tough guy act is ridiculous. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re hurting. You can try all you want to push me away, but it won’t work. It just makes this game all the more fun.”

  He smiled and there was nothing nice about it. Pushing wet strands of blond hair out of his eyes, he said, “Act? I assure you,” his voice lowered to a throaty growl, “it’s no act.”

  “Believe me,” I stood tall, which was really hard since I was about as short as they came, “I’ve known guys like you. You put out this fake persona to scare people away, when inside you’re just a lost and scared little boy.”

  His smile disappeared at that. “Mind your own damn business, Sutton.”

  He pushed passed me and out the door.

  I followed quickly behind him. I didn’t bother to catch up to him, but I wanted to be sure he went home—which he did.

  The whole walk—and even when we entered the building and made our way upstairs to our apartments across from each other—he never, not once, looked back at me.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sutton

  “It’s such a nice day,” Daphne exclaimed, spreading her arms wide and leaning back in her chair. I was a bit afraid she might topple out of it.

  She’d shown up outside my door thirty minutes ago, inviting me to lunch and a day of shopping. I wasn’t much for shopping, but I was going a bit stir crazy, and talking to Brutus like he was a person probably made me even more of a nutcase.

  “I love it here,” she adjusted her sunglasses, and draped her hair over one shoulder.

  “It’s a restaurant,” I stated. “How could you love it here?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know…just the vibe,” she did a little shimmy in her chair, “it’s very relaxed.”

  Well, okay then.

  Taking a sip of water, I ventured to ask, “Do you know who Cayla is?”

  “Who?” Daphne sat up straight, a single brow rose with interest.

  “Cayla,” I repeated the name.

  “Hmm,” she thought, tapping a peach colored nail against her lips, “I don’t believe I do. Why do you ask?” She leaned forward, expecting a juicy secret to spill from my lips.

  “It’s not important.” I grabbed a napkin, wiping the condensation from my glass of water.

  “It must be important for you to ask me,” she sat back, tapping her heeled shoe against the floorboards of the outdoor patio we were seated at.

  “It’s really not,” I muttered, looking out towards the street.

  “You’re a really bad liar, Sutton,” she pushed.

  “If I knew who this person was, why would I ask you?” I countered, getting huffy. “All I have is a name. I was curious to see if you had heard it before.”

  “And who did you hear it from? Hmm?” She studied my face, waiting for any sort of tick or flick of my eyes.

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “I think you know.”

  “I think I know too,” she drummed her fingers on the tabletop. Sobering, she added, “I know you don’t know me that well yet, but I believe we could be friends,” she momentarily placed her hand over mine where it rested on the table and then removed it.

  I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t sure I could. After being screwed over by my best friend in Texas, I was leery to trust people. Her eyes were so sincere though, even if they were concealed behind dark sunglasses.

  “Caelan,” I whispered.

  “I knew it!” She threw an arm in the air, doing a small fist pump.

  “Seriously,” I pleaded, “have you heard him mention that name before?”

  “Not at all,” she answered readily, taking a sip of sweet tea. “Granted, I don’t really talk to Caelan. I think I’ve only ever said five words to the guy. He scares me,” she shivered. Looking across at me, she asked, “Why doesn’t he scare you?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “He just doesn’t.”

  “So…” She paused, toying with whether or not she should continue. “When did he mention this Cayla person?”

  “It was a while ago now,” I shrugged, propping my head on my hand. “He—uh—was passed out, muttering in his sleep. He didn’t know I was there.”

  “Oh,” she gasped in surprise.

  “I tried to Google it, but with a single name I didn’t find out anything useful,” I muttered, irritation lacing the tone of my words.

  “Ooh! Ooh!” She hopped in her seat a
nd I wondered again how she didn’t go falling to the ground. “Why don’t you try searching his name?”

  My mouth fell open in surprise. “Daphne, you’re a genius!” I exclaimed and if I had been a lesbian I would’ve kissed her in that moment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “It’s worth a shot, right?” She smiled, clearly pleased with her brilliant idea.

  “It’s definitely worth a shot,” I grinned, excitement filling me.

  I knew it might be impossible to ever get Caelan to open up to me. If this worked, I may finally know what had destroyed him.

  ⌘⌘⌘

  Shopping with Daphne proved to be one of the most exhausting experiences of my life.

  I did have fun though.

  She was always so bubbly, but she could have her serious moments too. After today, I counted her as a friend.

  Sitting down my bags, I gave Brutus a small kiss on his head, and then dove for the laptop I had left on the kitchen counter. Some serious investigation was about to happen.

  No amount of excitement over my new clothes and lingerie—lingerie I had no idea who I thought I was going to wear it for—could keep me from my desire to search Caelan’s name in the hopes of information.

  I typed his name into the search engine, hoping I spelled it right, and waited for it to load.

  Almost immediately a news article popped up.

  I didn’t bother reading the tagline. I just clicked on it. It was an article about some high school, local to where we were now, and the football team. Skimming the article, I came across Caelan’s name highlighted. Apparently he was the quarterback. I didn’t know what the heck a quarterback did. I was not a sports person. Scrolling further down, I found a picture of the team. In the front, kneeling on the ground with his helmet in his hand was Caelan. His hair was even lighter than it was now. He was smiled widely in the image. There was a cockiness in the way he held himself. He was more muscular in the photo and a little heavier that he was now. Even in the picture, his eyes were piercing.