by Joy Eileen
My hands grasped the stick the blood on my palm making it almost impossible to dislodge it from my thigh. It took me numerous attempts to yank it out. I turned slightly and bashed the stick down toward Trent's head. His arms no longer reached for me as he curled them around himself to protect his body.
I hit him again and again, until he was a lifeless heap on the ground. Not bothering to check whether he was breathing, I wiped the blood off my face.
My fingers refused to relinquish their grip from the stick in my hand. Using it as a cane, I clambered up the steep hill. My feet were torn apart by the rough terrain, and my ankle shot white-hot pain up my leg every time I put any weight on it. My scalp tingled, and I was pretty sure it was bleeding as well. The hole in my leg was now trickling blood instead of pouring as it had been before.
My right eye was almost swollen shut—a consequence of Trent’s love taps—by the time I reached the road. Trent’s car was half hidden behind a tree on the side of the road. The night helped to blanket it from any cars that might pass by this late at night. I trudged toward his car, every breath labored but necessary.
I wrenched the door open, relieved to find it was unlocked. With my good hand, I fumbled around the steering wheel and cried out in frustration when the keys were missing from the ignition. Frantically, I searched for them, finally finding them stashed in the glove compartment. When my fingers connected with the cold metal which signified my escape, a sob escaped me.
I turned the key, and an awful grinding noise came from somewhere under the hood. I pleaded with it to just make it to the hospital before it went to car heaven along with my Mustang. My bloodied foot pushed the gas pedal as hard as I could, not caring that the water temperature was hovering in the red, causing the grinding sound to keep growing louder by the half mile.
The car was smoking and shuddering by the time I came to a complete stop in front of the ER. It sputtered one last time before shutting off completely as it churned out smoke from under the hood.
With my good hand, I laid on the horn. My body, like the car, was spent. Two security guards ran out seconds later, along with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.
When the security guard opened the door, a nurse I’d assisted many times in the lab recognized me. “Faith, we're going to have to pick you up and get you in the wheelchair. It's going to hurt like hell, but we'll be as gentle as we can.”
I nodded. My face felt bigger on one side, and I didn't think I could’ve formed words with my mouth drooping from all the swelling.
The nurse moved back, and the two security guards gently lifted me out of the car. A whimper escaped me when they placed me in the wheelchair. Everything hurt.
Once I was secure, the nurse raced the wheelchair inside the hospital. Vaguely, I heard one of the security guards ask someone to have a police officer come down to the ER before asking someone else to call for a tow truck.
I was placed in a room immediately. My brain flashed in and out of consciousness. Moments later, a doctor came in, and I was blissfully pumped full of pain medication.
As I basked in the rescue of liquid heaven, I thought I heard my dad and Martha's voice, but the medications had a firm hold on me. As I succumbed to the spell of the drugs, the last thing I heard was someone shout, “Slick!”
Pain assaulted me, bringing me out of my medicated fog. Everything rushed back to me, and Trent’s face flashed behind my eyes, making me cry out in fear.
“Faith,” my dad called out to me, squeezing my hand.
“Hey, Daddy.” My voice didn't sound like my own, and those two words felt like they were formed from razorblades.
A straw was magically placed between my lips. I took a sip, wincing at the pain brought on by swallowing. The room was dark, except for the small overhead light on the hospital bed.
“Easy, Faith. Your face is still swollen.” Martha placed her cool hand on my abused cheek. I leaned into the comfort.
“Thank you,” I said after taking a couple more sips of the cool water. My voice was still unrecognizable, but the razor blades in my throat felt like they’d dulled some.
“How are you doing?” my dad asked. His voice was clogged with tears. I turned my thousand-pound head, slowly, to look at him.
“I’m alive.”
My dad cursed and violently wiped away tears from his face. “Faith, the cops are here. They wanted to talk to you as soon as you woke up, so you can tell them what happened. I’ll hold them off as long as you need me to.” My dad tried to put on his cop face, but his dad face kept shining through.
“No, I need to talk to them."
"Do you want us to stay?” I wanted to tell him no, but I decided it might be best. He needed to have peace of mind that none of this had been his fault.
“If you want.”
My dad nodded and left the room to fetch the officers. Martha crawled into the bed next to me and hugged me softly to her chest. I let tears fall silently down my cheek as I accepted the motherly love she offered.
My dad returned with two uniformed officers. They introduced themselves, but their names went in one ear and out the other.
“Hello, Miss Annabelle. We have some questions for you, if you're feeling up to it? Eugene–I mean your dad—said you agreed to speak with us.”
They were both staring at me expectantly. I nodded my head, and they launched into their line of questioning. I pushed away the memory of Kill's face before I’d turned and ran out the venue, as I retold the events which happened after the concert in detail.
Martha held me tighter, as I told them everything. My dad paced the room and rubbed his hand over his face, making it red from the repeated friction.
When I finished, the officers looked at their notebooks, comparing notes to make sure they’d gotten everything they needed. “Your story corroborates with what we found at the scene,” one of the officers explained.
“What does that mean?” my dad asked, launching into full cop mode. His demeanor change would’ve made me smile if it didn't hurt so much.
“There was a call earlier this morning. Someone reported an accident where a car had rolled down the embankment. When officers responded, we found your car at the bottom of the drop. Mr. Trent Conley was still unconscious, lying next to the car registered in your name. Mr. Conley had sustained severe injuries and suffered major blood loss. Paramedics responded to the scene and were able to return Mr. Conley to consciousness.”
My stomach rolled. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or saddened that Trent had survived.
“Where is that son of a bitch?” my dad seethed. His voice was deadly calm, and I hoped the officers wouldn’t answer him.
The cops looked at each other, and something passed between them. One of them nodded to the other. “While Mr. Conley was being transported to the hospital, he regained full consciousness. He retrieved a knife from his pocket and sliced his throat open, killing himself.”
Someone across the room gasped. I turned my head quickly, which made it swim from the pain. My good eye focused on Kill. He sat in a plastic hospital chair in the furthest corner of the hospital room, cloaked in darkness.
We stared at each other for a long time, until one of the officers cleared his throat, pulling me away from his gaze. “We're sorry for what happened to you. When you're up to it, we need you to come to the station to give us an official statement. Here's my card. Give me a call when you're ready. We located your purse and cell phone when your car was towed to the junkyard. You can retrieve them when you come into the station.”
I accepted the card with one of my numb hands and watched the officers exit the room after shaking my dad's hand. Martha cried silently next to me, and my dad continued to pace the room.
“Dad, please stop.”
The tension rolling off him was destroying my heart. He stopped and looked at me with tears shimmering in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Faith. I'm the worst father. I’ve failed to protect you so many times. That was the one job I was given on the da
y you were born, and I've let you down.”
I gasped as tears flooded my good eye, blurring my dad's features. “Stop it. This isn't your fault. You're the best dad a girl could ask for. Enough of this pity. You're too strong for that,” I yelled, swallowing the pain it caused me.
Martha patted me on the shoulder and got out of the bed. She took my dad by the arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s go get some coffee.”
He wanted to argue. I could see it in his face, but in the end, he huffed out a breath and kissed me on the forehead before leaving with Martha.
I closed my eyes as the tears rolled down my cheek, stinging when they touched the spot where Trent had struck me. A sob caught in my ragged throat as I begged for the Earth to swallow me whole, hating what I’d put my dad through.
“Whatever you are thinking, Slick, stop.”
I opened my eye and glanced at Kill, still sitting in the corner. “It's all my fault that he thinks he failed. He was the best father, and he thinks he failed me. It's my fault I seem to attract the crazy guys.”
Kill launched up out of his chair, and came over to the side of my bed, shooting me a harsh look. “Stop it. You were strong enough to get out of a relationship that would’ve killed you had you stayed. And then you fought and survived someone who was set on torturing you.”
"Why does everyone keep saying I'm strong? All I do is find different ways to get myself into trouble. It's all my fault."
"Because you are strong. I wish you could see what I do when I look at you."
Tears were still coursing down my cheek, and I swiped at them angrily. The movement tugged at the IV stuck in my arm, and I growled in frustration. I couldn’t do anything right. Kill wiped my face and gently placed my arm back on the bed.
“Why are you here, Killer?”
“Amy heard about what happened to you after you left the concert. I had to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry, Slick. I did something horrible, and I'll never forgive myself.” His face was pinched with worry and sadness. My body tensed, afraid to hear what he was going to say.
“I don’t want to know,” I whispered. I couldn't stomach his confession of the debauchery he’d been involved in while we’d been apart.
“I believed Trent.” His face was etched with pain when he confessed. I stared at him in confusion, not understanding what he meant.
“I knew what you were doing as soon as you did it. I knew you were lying when you said you were getting back together with Jason. All I could think about was getting home so I could yell at you for saying something so stupid, and then make up with you. I realized you didn’t want me to give up anything for you. Jason’s dad's involvement was confusing, and it did piss me off. Hell, I still don’t know how he's connected with the tour. But I wanted to hear your story and find out the real reason, not that shit lie you told me to keep us apart. When you quit and nobody would tell me where you were, I went insane, knowing I had to wait until your graduation to confront you. To persuade you to stop pushing me away.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and his jaw clenched, his cheeks flashing his perfect dimples.
“But you told me to fuck off.”
His jaw locked tight before he continued. “Trent caught up to me after the ceremony. You looked so beautiful, by the way, and I was so proud of you. I can’t believe I was able to survive being away from you for as long as I did. Seeing you accept your diploma was the first time I felt like I could finally take a breath. Trent blindsided me when I was looking for you after the ceremony. He asked if I wanted to go get a beer, since we’d both lost you to Jason."
"He did what?"
"I thought maybe you had asked him to tell me you were with Jason so I would move on, but there was something in his eyes that made me believe him. He confirmed my worst nightmare. I was devastated. When he told me you got back together with Jason, my heart stopped beating. I couldn't believe how stupid I was to think you were just saying it, because you didn't think we would last. Never once did it cross my mind you might have actually gone back to him. At least, not until that fuckwad told me you did. I'm so fucking sorry I doubted you,” he said, kissing my forehead.
My brain was sluggish from the weight of his confession and the pain. I needed time to process. So, I asked him the one thing he wouldn't deny me.
“Will you lay with me?”
He paused for a moment, but then crawled in bed next to me. It took some careful maneuvering on my part, but I was able to lay my head on his shoulder and fall asleep. When I woke up, Kill was passed out next to me. The fucker was snoring.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Martha asked, coming over to the side of the bed. She was whispering so she wouldn't wake Kill.
“Sore. Where’s Dad?”
“I sent him home to get some sleep. Neither of them would leave until they knew you were going to be okay.”
She tilted her head to indicate she was talking about Kill as well as my dad. “The doctor said they're going to release you in a couple of days.” She brushed my hair back and handed me a glass of water to sip. “He loves you, Faith.”
My throat was too tight to talk. I cleared it quietly. “I know he does, but I keep bringing him misery. I'm not good for him.”
“You can’t keep pushing him away because you're scared, honey. You should give the boy a chance. He loves you, and I think you need to give both of you a chance.”
“I don’t know if I can. I love him so much that I can't see him get hurt. He would give up everything for me. I can't do that to him
Martha kissed me on the forehead and told me she was going to get a nurse so they could check my vitals. When the door shut behind her, Kill scared the hell out of me when he spoke.
“You're wrong.”
“I thought you were asleep,” I answered, wide eyed, wondering how much he’d heard.
“Faith, I love you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you, but I can’t be with you if you're going to constantly push me away. I know I'm being a huge hypocrite, but I’ve learned my lesson. I trust you and our love. But I can’t be the only one fighting for this relationship. If you decide you love me enough to give us a fighting chance instead of pushing me away, then you know where I'll be.” He got up off the bed and brushed his lips over mine before walking out. The door opened as soon as it closed, and I sat up, wanting to tell him I was all in. My heart plummeted when the nurse came in followed by Martha.
Once the nurse was finished taking my vitals, Martha asked me if I wanted her to find Kill. I shook my head, knowing he wasn’t in the hospital any longer.
CHAPTER 32
The next two days were hell. As my body began to heal, the pain seemed to increase. I pushed myself hard, wanting to be released so I could go home. I practiced on the crutches, with my broken ankle in a cast, longer than recommended. At the end of the day, I was exhausted and fell asleep immediately in the uncomfortable hospital bed, wishing every night I was in bed with Kill.
He was right, though. I needed to accept that what we had between us was worth fighting for. Before I went to him, I had to make myself whole. He deserved to have all of me, not the broken shell I’d been living as.
The day I was released, I begged my dad to take me to the police station so I could get my purse. I also wanted to give my official statement so I could put that awful night with Trent behind me. Trent's parents requested to speak with me, but I refused them. I understood they’d just lost their son, but I wasn't ready to face them just yet, or ever.
At home, Martha and my dad fussed over me, driving me crazy. They meant well, but I couldn't think with them hovering. I finally told them I was going to go to my room and take a nap. I was tired, but really I just needed to escape their constant coddling.
Martha had plugged my phone in and left it charging on my nightstand. There were text messages and voicemails from the boys, Amy, and Ryan, telling me they loved me.
Van groveled out an apology over voicemail for the song they sang right before I’d es
caped from the concert. He hadn’t wanted to play it, but D loved it, putting it on the set list as soon as it had been perfected.
I texted all of them back, telling them how much I loved them too and promising to call them all later. I sent Van another message letting him know I loved the lyrics to the song and telling him he had nothing to feel bad about.
Soon, I drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened by a knock on my door. I couldn’t hear what was being said or who was saying it, but when I heard Martha gasp softly, my curiosity got the best of me. When I was finally able to maneuver myself out of bed and onto my crutches, the hallway was empty.
No one was in the living room, but the front door was open, hinting that outside was where everyone had disappeared to. I hobbled over and spotted Kill’s shiny sex on wheels parked in the driveway. My dad circled it with pure male appreciation, as tears tracked down Martha's face.
When I reached her, she pulled me in for an awkward hug before handing me an envelope. I glanced around, looking for Kill. When I didn’t see him, I opened the envelope-which was extremely hard to do on crutches.
I realized you didn’t have a car to get back to me when you figure out how perfect we are together. I know I promised to give it to you after we got signed, but the way D's working, I don’t see that taking much longer. I hope you decide we're worth it, but if not, a promise is a promise.
Love,
Your Kill
“How did it get here?” I asked Martha, staring at the car in the driveway in wonder.
“Magic,” she answered cryptically.
I hobbled back into the house, and went back into my room, needing some time to process the fact that Kill’s car, the one he loved, was now in my possession.
My phone rang and I launched toward it, causing pain to shoot through me from the fast movement.
“Hello.”
“Faith, honey, are you okay? I saw what happened to you on the news.”
All the air was sucked out of my body when Jason's voice drilled into my ear. "What the fuck? You can't call me," I said, swallowing the bile rushing up my esophagus.