by K. Pinson
“I’ve thought about it. But I couldn’t let the demons win. So, I stopped hurting myself and instead began drawing on myself instead. That’s what led me to my career as a tattoo artist. I truly believe that there is beauty in the breaking. I just had to let myself see it. I promise. I truly trust you, Cohen. I haven’t been able to say that in a long time. Thank you.”
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t help when it was all happening.”
Now I’m the one feeling ashamed. I was always so caught up with Brynn that I never took the time to truly see Ariana. Not that she would have let me in at that time but I still could have tried.
“Nobody knew, Cohen. This is not your fault. The monsters hid away safely under my bed and nobody was none the wiser. They knew how to hurt me and get away with it. It was Brynn or me. There has never been an easier choice made in my life. But I am free from them now, free from her. Can we just focus on the here and now?” she pleads and I give in instantly. I know that I’m being ridiculous and needy. These traits that are so unlike me. She’s making me a pussy. A happy pussy though, so fuck it.
I don’t stop kissing her until I’ve explored every inch of her skin. Tracing her tattoo designs with my fingertip until she’s shaking with need underneath my touch. I kiss the inside of her thigh to tease her. She grabs my hair and pulls me to her center. It doesn’t take long before she is shuddering and letting go. At this point, a condom is long forgotten. Time is blurring, our bodies are melting. I find myself inside of her, slowly moving to work my way in. She tenses, so I find her lips with mine and stop moving. I just want to make sure she is okay. She pulls away, nods her head and grips my shoulders as hard as she can. Her nails digging into my skin only incites my passion more. Slamming into her causes both of us to gasp out loud. I brush her hair from her face and intertwine it around my fingertips while sliding back out only to slam back in again. When she winces in pain, I find myself stopping for a second time. I know this probably hurts her worse than just continuing but my conscience won’t let me.
“Are you okay?”
I’m concerned. I don’t know a lot about her sexual background. This isn’t something we’ve really talked about before. Our conversations are almost always intellectual, usually straying from anything personal. I never saw this coming.
“Better than okay. It just hurts a little. This is my first real-time.”
I’m temporarily confused by her words, but only for a moment, and then immediately saddened. It pains me to think of those who have hurt her in the past. My blood begins to boil and I want to hurt them all. I know my anger won’t help in this situation so I let it dissipate and stay focused on her.
“I want you to forget every other time before me, can you do that?”
As the words leave my mouth, I find myself slowly moving inside of her, building momentum. I grip the back of her neck, forcing her to look in my eyes. Distracting her seems to work and slowly her pitiful cries drawl out into moans of ecstasy.
“I am your first, your only.” My words seem to relax her and she’s letting me in more. I finally feel like I’m gaining some control here and my true self is beginning to shine through. There’s a small part of me that prefers to dominate. I try to reel it in when I think she can’t handle it. It’s messed up that I even think that way, I know she’s strong but I can’t help it.
“Yes. My. Only.” She breathes the words through each moan.
I’m getting closer to my release; my hands make their way to her face. Cupping her chin, I bring her mouth to mine. My other hand finds its way below and I stroke her until she falls apart again. Shortly after I let go. I get up and go to grab a washcloth. She has a bathroom en-suite so it isn’t difficult to find. I run it underneath the faucet, letting it get warm before shutting it off. Returning to the bedroom, she’s lying where I left her, eyes closed and bliss upon her angelic face.
“I love you.” I murmur to the room. She doesn’t respond but the silence is okay with me. I know in my heart that our feelings for each other are steadily growing.
I find my way to her and clean her gently. Afterward, returning the washcloth to a hamper in the bathroom. We spend the rest of the day talking, ordering food in and lounging in bed. In between resting, I make sure to show her my love repeatedly.
It was late when my phone began to ring, I’m not even sure of the time. Ari is sleeping soundly next to me, she looks like an angel. I quickly grab the phone and answer to avoid waking her. A voice I don’t recognize on the other end tells me that I need to get to Smith Street as soon as possible, that there has been an accident. The panic in the man’s voice on the other end tells me something is seriously wrong. He is slurring heavily and my focus only catches one word. Brynn. I haven’t heard a word from Brynn in almost a year. I hear things around the town, we live in a small-minded area. Even though we’ve been out of touch, I know everything about her still. From the last date, she went on, if it can even be called that, I’m putting it nicely. To the type of drugs, she’s buying on the street. I’ve tried forgetting about her. Nothing that I say has been able to get through to her. The panic in the male voice on the other end tells me something is seriously wrong. I have no other choice but to go to her.
Making a hasty decision, I slide out of bed without waking Ari, deciding not to tell her. I know their relationship has undying stress on it and truthfully, she’s been through enough. My need to protect her overshadows right and wrong. I throw my clothes on and sneak out the door before bringing the phone back to my ear. He was still talking, but now that I am safely away from Ari I can finish this conversation with his drunk ass and hopefully take care of this so I can get back to my girl as quickly as possible. Shockingly, I gleaned enough of the details of where she was from the inebriated caller. I reached my bike and started that way, wondering why he had called my phone. I guess she must have had me as the emergency contact in her phone or something. I hang up.
I’m going faster on my bike than I ever have. My adrenaline has kicked in now and I’m truly afraid of what I’m going to find. Brynn has been dabbling with drugs for a while now. What started off as a party thing and led up into an addiction, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her. Any conversation about it was immediately shut down and then she would shut you out. It broke my heart but I couldn’t continue to try to help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Watching her die wasn’t an option for me either so I cut off contact. As I’m riding down the empty streets I’m questioning if that was the right decision. I seem to question myself a lot when it comes to her, I always have. It’s like she takes away my common sense.
Eventually, I pull up outside of the house and quickly cut off my engine, leaving my bike on the curb. You can tell that a party took place here, the music is still playing but only barely audible from outside of the house. Trash and beer bottles are strewn across the unkempt lawn. I walk up the pathway, internally gasping at the condition of the dilapidated house before me. After what felt like an eternity, I reached the door and turned the knob without thinking to knock. It’s unlocked, not so surprising. The smells of vomit and decay reach my nostrils and I dry heave. My heart is beating roughly and I want nothing more than to rip it out and hide it before I see her.
I can hear people crying, screaming and I realize that I’d rather be anywhere but here. I said I would do anything to protect her from all that this life has punished her with, but she wouldn’t allow me in. I walk up the stairs, pushing past the hordes of people who never truly cared about her but are suddenly acting as if they do. I couldn’t possibly imagine how traumatic this moment would be or the way it would mold my life so I pushed through regardless. Had I of known then what I do now, I probably would have run hard and fast. I yell for everyone to get the hell out of my way. They scurry, moving clumsily into the opposite direction.
I see her body crumpled on the foreign bathroom floor, unconscious. Nothing about the girl I used to know belongs here. Her lips are blue and her face pal
e, she’s fading fast. I rush to her side and fall to my knees. My eyes barely notice the small movements in her chest. She’s breathing faintly but breathing. I pull my phone out to do what none of these assholes thought to do and call the emergency services. I force myself to keep up all composure even though I want nothing more than to crumple into a ball next to her. Since the day she began using I’ve envisioned this moment in all my nightmares. Now that this moment is finally a reality, the semblance of hope I had clung to through the years has shattered, leaving me an empty shell in its wake. I put my phone on speaker and mindlessly take the commands I am being given. Within a few moments, her eyes flutter and I took it as a sign that I was doing the right thing. A small amount of joy found its way into my system.
When her eyes finally open to meet mine, they steal my breath. But not in the way that they used to. Her eyes were once as clear and blue as the ocean itself, but now red takes them over. The same color of red as I imagine the devil himself to be, crimson and dark. Aptly so because this drug has stolen her soul the same way he would. The heroine had become her best fucking friend throughout the years. It took my place. I once believed that I’d follow her anywhere. But when the path veered off and hers led down self-destruction, I had no choice but to go my way. She wouldn’t allow me or anyone else to talk her down. The innocence she once encompassed was gone and the disease had taken over her body.
“I’m sor…” She tries to apologize. Barely able to make out words.
I place my hand gently on her face and shush her. She sighs and inhales as large of a breath as she can get. I want her to focus on breathing, instead of apologizing for something that she’s in no way sorry for. This drug lies to her and it lies to me. I’m still haunted by our memories.
My heart is breaking every minute I sit on this cold floor, watching the death wash over her. The air surrounding me feels different. Everything feels all wrong. Noise from the party is suddenly drowned out by the sound of sirens. People she thought were there for her, are gone. I feel a loss of breath myself. I cling to her, willing her to stay strong enough until the ambulance arrives. We are so close. I struggle to meet her gaze, but when I do, a solitary tear falls down her cheek. It is instinct for me to wipe it away, the same way I always did when we were kids. Time stands still. It's like watching flames dance up your most prized possession and not being able to a damn thing about it. I just sit and watch my world burn.
“I’m the one that should say sorry.” Tears will themselves from my eyes before I can stop. “I gave up on you.” She doesn’t speak. I can tell that she wants to but no words come. Her eyes speak volumes. Forgiveness is screaming from them. “I said I never would and I did.” The searing pain in my chest becomes unbearable.
She slowly lifts her hand to meet mine on her face. I swallow hard. She squeezes and I’m met with memories of when we were kids, her small hand in mine. The Police and EMT’s begin to rush in, surrounding us. I feel like I’m being pulled away, in more ways than one.
"Take me to the ocean, Cohen. Nobody is ever sad there." She faintly whispers, but her words are not lost on me.
I know that our time is almost over. I can tell by the shallowness of her breath and the weakness in her hand as it attempts to squeeze mine in reassurance. Our roles have reversed and it feels all wrong. The protector was always a job meant for me. But here in her final moment, she protects me. My heart begins to race as she’s being loaded up on the stretcher, but I refuse to let her go. I need to hold her just one last time. I’m holding my breath, but unable to take my eyes from hers. Tears are flowing down her face but a subtle smile greets her lips as comfort washes over her. All too suddenly, her eyes flutter shut and her body goes into a five-second-long spasm before her addiction steals her last breath. Heroine captured her soul and refused to release it. I bow my head and sob.
She was gripped by addiction, but I'd had hope. Promises were made, the birth of a pipe dream. Those promises will forever haunt me. Now the little blonde girl from the picnic table is lying dead in my arms. Ocean eyes closed forever. I'm not a knight in shining armor, though I'd tried to be. I'm a failure. I stand limp as I watch the EMT's take her body away.
It was a much more peaceful ending than one would expect after all the demons faced that has led to this moment. However, I felt no comfort. This wasn't the ending I had written in my mind. We were supposed to make it out together. Two kids from Happy Endings Resort, living out our happily ever after.
I feel like I’m losing it completely. Maybe I will stop feeling this way if I can escape from this burning house and the insipid thoughts trapping me here. Dealing with her death would be so much easier if it weren’t in vain. If it served some purpose or was unavoidable. But she did this on purpose. Used and used until it ate her away. I want to hate her. I try to hate her, but nothing she’s ever done can make me do that. I had grown to love her too much.
I find it hard to internally separate the little girl I used to know from the woman she had become. I could never understand why she turned to drugs, but I guess it wasn’t meant for me to know. I’m assuming it was her guilt that had gotten to her, the same way it was now getting to me. I’ve been rushing through life for as long as I can remember. I never dealt with the pain caused by my father passing away. Instead, I funneled my energy into those I thought needed it more. I chose to focus on their problems instead of my own.
Brynn was my reason to stay, and then Ari. But they both deserve better. Brynn deserved better. I realize that I’m no good for Ari and I can’t disrupt her life more than it has been. She shouldn’t have to deal with my breakdown and the loss of her sister at the same time. I’m nothing more than a burden to her. I’m not the man I thought I was. I’m selfish and I can’t stay here any longer. I hate this fucking town. Before my thoughts consume me, I run.
Chapter 1
Cohen Age 8
Everything had changed. I was outside playing ball in the front yard. The sun was shining down, warming my skin. The summer days are my favorite, but the nights even better. Tonight, Mom promised we would build a small bonfire in the backyard when Dad gets home and make s’mores. He’s been working a lot so I’m excited to see him. Plus, s’mores are my favorite. I like to make mine with Reese’s peanut butter cups in the middle. Mom says I’m unique. I don’t tell her that Jason from my class had given me the idea. I like her to think I made it up all on my own.
I’m kicking the ball and letting it hit the side of my house so it comes back to me. Sometimes when I don’t have anybody to play with I come up with ways to play by myself. When I hear the front door open, I look up from where I’m standing. Mom looks at me and I see a mixture of anger and sadness are written on her face.
“I’m sorry…I just wanted to play soccer and I can’t do that without letting the ball hit the house!” I begin to explain my game before she has her chance to yell at me.
“No…Cohen…” She starts to talk but her breath catches and sobs escape from her chest. I rush over to where she still stands on the porch, the door in hand, unmoving.
I wrap my arms around her tiny waist. I don’t like to see her cry. It is rare but lately happens more often. She thinks I don’t hear her, but I do. She wakes me from my sleep at night. I don’t tell her that though.
“What’s the matter, Mommy?” She lifts me into her arms. I am getting tall now and holding me isn't as easy as it once was.
“I really don’t know how to explain this to you, Cohen.” She quietly tells me. I can sense the sadness in her voice and I begin to cry without even knowing what for. I look at her expectantly, not saying anything in response.
“Daddy isn’t coming home tonight.” She whispers as if it is a secret between the two of us. I don’t like it.
“But we are going to make s’mores!” I shout. My sadness turns to anger. I just want my daddy.
“Honey, I’m sorry, you have to understand how sorry I truly am.” Her words aren’t making any sense to me and I just want her
to explain them. The confusion makes me feel funny. I hate it.
“Daddy was in an accident. He didn’t make it, Cohen. He’s up in Heaven with God now.” Her words jumble together. I push her shoulder, wanting her to put me down. I don’t want her to hold me anymore. But she doesn’t let go, only holding me tighter.
“No!” I shout defiantly. I had learned what Heaven was and I knew from my Papa dying that I couldn’t go there to visit for a long time. I wanted to see my daddy. “Call him!” I yell, pointing at her hand where the phone remained.
“He can’t answer baby.” She responds quietly, tears coming down her cheeks but no other visible crying noises coming from her mouth.
“CALL HIM!” I scream louder. “Tell him I need him to come home. We can’t build a fire without him. We can’t eat s’mores without him. We can’t do anything without him! We need him.” I’m shaking violently and can’t seem to keep my heart from beating so hard. I just want to wake up from this nightmare. She hugs me to her chest and cries into my shoulder, I can feel her chest shake with each sob. She carries me into the house and closes the door behind her. My ball left abandoned in the front yard.
I don’t remember much else from that day. Before I knew it, the days were turning into weeks and his funeral had come and gone. Neighbors came by a lot and dropped off food. Mom could barely get out of bed. I overheard her talking on the phone about how we had lost the house and needed to move. At the time, I had no idea what that really meant but it wouldn’t be long before I found out. I tried asking her questions about why we couldn’t stay. I even offered up my piggy bank, but she said it wasn’t enough. I slammed it to the ground, letting it break open and coins rolled away in every direction. But she wouldn’t even help me count it. Instead of saying anything, she just walked away and hid in her bedroom.
We packed up our big house and said goodbye to everything I once knew. We didn’t have any nearby family so we had to do it all alone. Mom began to rely on me for a lot more things around the house. I fended for myself a lot during this time. Finding food, packing up my own things and even some of hers. I aged tremendously within such a short time. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore.