Her mouth opens as if she is ready to say something, and I guess she thinks better of it because she closes her mouth and turns around to face the steering wheel. Putting the car in gear, she starts to pull out of the parking place when she hits the brakes and puts the gear back in park. “You need to learn to communicate what’s bothering you, you know? All the stuff that’s inside your head can make you or break you. If you don’t let them out, those things are only going to feel heavier and more difficult to handle. When you finally decide to let the barriers go, you will feel better. I promise.” She raises her hand and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Sometimes sharing your pain helps the hurt and the guilt become more bearable. You need to feel that way. I need you to feel that way.”
I choose not to answer. How can I tell her that over two years ago I met the one person that has captured my heart, but she’s too good, too perfect and I don’t deserve her? How do I tell her that I have wanted to be able to love her for years now, but that our own best friends don’t think I’m capable of feeling real love and all they thought was that I was going to hurt her? And that I have had to witness her being wooed by other guys who actually get to hug her, kiss her, hold her at night? On top of that, all I have at night is an empty bed and nightmares of a person I made feel so miserable, she decided to end her life instead of putting me out of my very own misery. How can I tell her all this? I just can’t. I can’t. It will make her realize how worthless I really am. I’m just not ready for her to know all of this.
Her voice softens, “I know it’s hard, but we need to start somewhere.”
We drive in silence and I can sense her patience waning down. My insides feel like a blender in high gear, mixing and pureeing all the feelings going through me, leaving nothing but a dark mush that nobody wants or cares for. I try to portray a calm state. I remember the breathing exercises Ciara taught me the other day, so I crack the window open and start to let the air in through my nose and out through my mouth.
I think she is able to pick up on my anxiety, and I can feel her hesitate before she asks me a question.
“Is it helping?”
“Yes.” No. I’m too fucked up. I need you instead.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the fresh air coming through the window, the smells of the street – barbeque, saltiness of the nearby sea, tacos – I can ‘visually’ feel the blender that’s inside my body and mind starts to go into a lower gear, until it finally slows down to a stop.
“Yes, it helped.”
She smiles. “Good.” And changes the subject, “What are you cooking us for dinner? I’m starved. Do I need to stop by the store?”
“No, we are good. I think I have an idea of what to make.” I smile back at her and I’m grateful the darkness was not able to claim my soul this time.
We get to the apartments and as we round the stairs to the 2nd floor, she turns to look at me.
“I’m going to stop by my place and take a quick shower first. Then I’ll come eat dinner with you, okay?”
“Sure. See you in a bit.” I continued to climb the stairs to the third floor. I open the door to my apartment to find it empty. I sigh loudly and place the keys on the silver dish resting on top of the entry room table. It’s the same silver bowl that catches all kinds of things. I find myself wishing that this bowl could catch all my mixed up thoughts and feelings, so that I could just drop all my worries in it until another day that I’m ready to deal with all of it.
I go to my room and take my clothes off, leaving them right where they fall on the floor. I don’t even have the energy to pick them up. I look at my bed languidly, wishing I could just lay there and give in to the blackness once again. In the blackness there are no noises or voices, it’s quiet and I feel a little bit of peace, at least until Marcy invades my space. I shake my head from side to side and make the image go away – for now.
I walk to the bathroom and start the water. I turn it to the hottest setting possible. I step in and let the heat and steam take care of all my worries. Perhaps it’s time to put more hours into work. Maybe if I keep busy I will be able to put all of this aside. Although, I still won’t know what to do with the guilt. The guilt can be overwhelming. At times, guilt also turns to anguish. I wonder if Marcy felt this way. I take my scrubbing sponge and I place a sizeable amount of shower gel on it and after rubbing it in, I start to clean my skin. I scrub, and scrub, and scrub until my skin is completely red and somewhat swollen, but I still feel dirty – filthy. I can’t clean up because the filth is on the inside. It resides within me. I wonder if I bleed, would my blood be filthy black instead of the traditional red? For the briefest moment I contemplate exploring the color of my blood and how would it look like when it oozes outside my skin, after it makes contact with the air. Maybe the blood can reflect how I feel inside and if I let it out, everything bad will go out with it.
I’m in front of the mirror with the towel wrapped around my waist and I realize I don’t even know when I got out of the shower. I have my pocket knife on my right hand and a small cut on the inside of my left arm. A smooth breeze comes through and gently touches my skin, causing goose bumps. I look at the mirror once again and then I hear her, she’s calling my name, enticing me. “Everything’s better in the dark. No one can find you here.” Marcy whispers in my ear on a daily basis.
Dropping the knife in the sink, I clean the cut and cover it with an extra-large Band-Aid that I find under the bathroom cabinets. I take a step away from the mirror and walk back into the bedroom to take out something to wear. As soon as I put on a t-shirt and pull up my shorts, I hear the doorbell. Thank goodness she’s here. My own little piece of sunshine. I know that while she’s here I won’t have to worry about Marcy, because Marcy only comes around when I’m alone.
“Coming!” I yell, loud and clear towards the hallway. I comb my hair with my fingers, once, twice and wipe my hands on my shorts as I walk towards the front door. Before I open it, I take a deep breath and push down all the crazy things that are swarming inside of me. “Perfect timing! I just got out of the shower, too. Please come in.” Ciara steps in, dressed in yoga pants, a tank top, and wet hair. Fuck me. She has no makeup and she’s simply beautiful.
“You clean up good, Traxx.” Her face has a happy smile while she’s looking at me.
“I could say the same about you. You not only clean up good, but you smell great, it reminds me of wildflowers… Remember couple of years back at my Uncle Logan’s land? When we ran across a tall field full of red flowers and we all got off the 4-wheelers and were trying to take pictures and selfies and you girls were freaking out because you thought a snake was going to bite you? Remember?”
“Yes! And then Colton screamed bloody murder and ran out of the field screaming ‘something bit me!’ and us girls started to scream like crazy and jump all over the place until we were able to climb on top of the vehicles – we were scared shitless!”
“Bahahaha! Yeah! And we have pictures to prove your valiant efforts that day!” I start to poke her on her side, tickling her, and she’s laughing and trying to walk away from me. All of a sudden, it hits me – like a cinder block encounters a glass window: abruptly, frantically and heavily. I have a tender feeling all over me, making me want to hold on to Ciara and keep her close to me. I want to feel her skin next to mine. I want my lips to find hers. I want, I want… I want her. I haven’t wanted anyone in weeks. Hell, it’s been months. Why now? Why her? The one person who deserves better than me. I’m nothing but fucked up. My mind and my life are in pieces. No one’s going to want to share the burden I carry, this affliction that I can’t shake because it’s rapidly becoming a part of me. Would she want me? No... NO! She deserves better. I have nothing to offer her. Nothing but broken and unmatched pieces of my so-called life.
The realization is like a gallon of cold ice water poured on top of my head. It makes me stop in my tracks immediately. Ciara frowns and looks at me. I don’t know what to do with this information.
I can’t process it at this moment, so I file it away in my mind, to pull out later and try to make sense of it. I catch her looking at me, and I quickly turn around and head into the kitchen. I force the mask to come down and cover the real thoughts going through my mind.
“How about breakfast for dinner? I can make pancakes or breakfast tacos. Do you have a preference?”
“Mmm, let’s go with pancakes. And bacon. Please tell me you have bacon or sausage?”
“Yes! I have bacon… And I have sausage, but I’m not sure you want this very special kind of sausage right now.” Looking at her, I wiggle my eyebrows as I take the bacon out of the fridge, and pull out the box of pancake mix, milk, and eggs out of the fridge. Turning towards the cabinets, I find a flat griddle.
“Gross!” She says while she smiles. Is that a bit of red on her cheeks? Ha! I’m going to remember this tidbit for later. I don’t think I have ever seen Ciara Collins blush before.
“What happened to your arm?”
I don’t need to look to know she’s asking about my self-inflicted wound. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” Then I give her my most charming smile hoping she drops the subject.
She looks at me – through me – causing me to purse my lips into a very tight line. I think she gets it because she nods and changes the subject. Good, at least for now.
I proceed to cook for her and we engage in mindless conversation for the rest of the night. Before she leaves, she tries to convince me to go with her to a “surprise” outing next weekend, of course, I want none of it. All I want is to wallow in my sorrow, alone.
“I don’t like surprises,” I tell her for the fifth time, but it’s falling once again on deaf ears.
“You would like this one. I promise!”
“What and where is the surprise?”
“Well, if I tell you, it won’t be much of a surprise, will it?”
She’s absolutely excited over this, and since it’s impossible to continue to deny her, I amusingly agree. Even though I know what I really need to be doing is walking away, far away from her. Away from this, but I can’t, I just can’t. The world’s a much darker place when she’s not around. Then, I hear it. Deep inside the psyche of my mind, I can also feel it happening. A little piece of my dismantled life moves against its will and falls back in place – exactly where it belonged. Perhaps there is hope for me yet.
Chapter 4
Ciara
This week has gone by rather slow. They say when you are busy, time flies, but I find that it doesn’t always hold true. It certainly didn’t happen to me this week. I have been working like a dog, and every day as soon as I get off work, I drive to the library to do research for my thesis, and I can feel the seconds dragging by, like a sand clock which never gets full. Time just goes and goes and the days drag and drag.
Today’s finally Saturday and although I turned down two guys who were offering hot dates, I consider myself to have a scorching one tonight because Traxx and I are going to hangout and then we are going to meet everyone else later on for drinks and hopefully some fun at “Twisted,” our favorite bar. Some people would think that I’m taking advantage of him while he’s weak, but I don’t see it that way. If we don’t keep him away from his dark mind, he will go there and never climb out. My plan is to show him that life goes on. That it’s okay for him to be happy and not think about the bad. Once he starts healing and he is more tolerant of the incident and comes to terms with the knowledge that Marcy didn’t kill herself because he forced her, but because she was not thinking rationally and was unable to make good choices, then we can work on the steps to make him feel his life’s valuable and worth saving, after that, he can help others heal.
I go online and set everything up for our outing. Then, I send Traxx a quick text to let him know what time to be ready and what to wear. I hear the front door open, when I peek out of my bedroom door, I see Brianna and Keagan.
“Ciara, where are you?” I hear Brianna call from the distance.
“I’m in my room. Come here.” I smile when I hear my bestie Brianna. I don’t get to visit with her a lot because, well, she moved out and her being a cop comes with crazy hours and too much work. As soon as I see her, I give her a huge hug.
“Hey, sweets! What an awesome surprise!” I smile at her.
“I know, although the other day I clocked you doing thirty miles over the speed limit, and it was so tempting to pull your ass over, just to see your pretty face and perhaps give you a ticket. Month end’s coming fast and I still have not met my quota.”
My mouth shapes into a huge ‘O’ and I take a deep breath, “Hell no, you better not give me a ticket! I probably can’t afford it! I also don’t wanna be the new poster girl for the jail flyers - that’s just not my style!” We start laughing carelessly.
“Number one, you and I know you’re lying about not being able to afford it, and number two, I guess orange is not the new black for you… Nah, don’t you worry your pretty head – I wouldn’t do that, but you should slow your ass down a little because another cop would have gone after you, for sure.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a mock salute with my right hand’s index finger touching the corner of my eyebrow. “I will try to watch out for my lead foot. What are you up to?”
“Colton went to take the truck to get the oil changed, so I figure I can catch up with you guys. I found Keagan coming in the parking lot at the same time I was pulling up to your building.” She looks towards Keagan who’s been busying herself in the kitchen since she walked in and then she looks at me. “How are things with Traxx?”
“Ugh! That boy gives me whiplash! One day he’s great and then all of a sudden something clicks and his mood flips to a total opposite version. But I have been studying the possible triggers and I think I can identify a few of them.”
Keagan chimes in, “You guys know he went back to work this week, full time plus more hours.” I knew that but apparently Brianna didn’t.
“He did! That’s great!” Brianna smiles at me.
“Yes, it has definitely been a good week for him. I’ve been checking in with Notso on a daily basis – on the down low, you know, because I was afraid that Traxx may feel overwhelmed with so many of us checking up on him and I didn’t want him to suffer a setback. As far as any one of us knows, he has not had any panic attacks or episodes. The nightmares, however, they haven’t gone away. Notso hears him yell and talk in his sleep every night. He’s most definitely still haunted by the events of the incident.” Keagan adds to our conversation.
“Poor thing.” Brianna lowers her head and crunches her nose like she does when she’s trying to think of something. “I wish there was something we could do.”
“Well,” I confess, “I prefer that he continues to have nightmares than taking it upon himself to procure God knows what kind of drugs to help him block everything out, or to be in so much pain that hurting himself can be considered as an option.” Brianna’s eyes get really large and Keagan comes out of the kitchen, staring at me.
“What the hell was he taking?” Keagan asks.
“Oooh, don’t say it. I don’t think I wanna know!” Brianna covers her ears with her hands.
“Guys, don’t get the wrong idea! I don’t know what he was taking because he never told me. And I’m still trying to figure out how he hurt his arm – earlier that day he was fine and then later, there was a huge Band-Aid covering ‘a scratch.’ But if he’s working, I don’t think he would be taking anything while he works, because whatever he was taking, it used to put him to sleep. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I will try to find out more information before I make assumptions.”
The girls both take a breath and reluctantly move away from the topic. “So, what’s your plan? Where are you taking him today?” Brianna asks quietly, as if I’m going to tell her anything when I know she tells Colton everything. Ha!
“Nah, ah… I’m not telling! You will have to ask him later when you see him after we
do what we gotta do.” I stick my tongue out to her. “You know that my number one goal is to make him appreciate life again – his life. He needs to believe that life’s worth living.”
“You are going to make us wait that long, no details?”
“Yep. It’s only a few hours. But now I have to get ready, since we have to leave in less than one hour.” Brianna looks at her watch and gets up from my bed, where she was sitting.
“Fine, okay, we’ll catch up later. I think Colton should be almost finished, so I’m going to head on home. Have fun!” She looks over to the kitchen where Keagan is and yells, “Bye, Kay Kay.”
I give her a kiss on her cheek and a hug. I really miss her and her sarcastic comments. After she turns to leave, I go to the closet and pull out what I need to wear today.
Traxx
My mood is not that great at the moment, but I’m sure as hell trying to work on it. My friends have been patient, giving, and most of all, caring towards me since the incident took me away from them. Some days are easier than others. If I’m lucky, work keeps me really busy. I’m working a shitload of accounts, more than I have ever managed before. I also volunteer for anything and everything. It makes the hours more manageable. Then I treat my body to gym workouts until I’m exhausted, until all I can do is get home, take a hot shower and collapse in bed. Those are the good days. I wish all days were more like that.
Other days like this one, I have to fake it. Like they say, fake it ‘till you make it. Nobody wants a part of this hell I seem to be trapped in. The nightmares… God, the nightmares can be outright terrifying and very unsettling. Most times there’s blood everywhere. All over me. On the floor. On the walls. On the furniture. It doesn’t matter what I do or where I go, I can never escape the coldness that envelops me as the distinct smell of death captures me and invades my other senses as well. It’s my own private and never ending hell and the sad thing – the one thing that keeps me nailed into this other realm - it’s that I don’t feel I belong anywhere else but here.
Dismantled (Girls on Top #2) Page 7