Close To Falling

by Paige P. Horne

  Close to Falling

  Paige P. Horne

  Copyright© 2016 Paige P. Horne. All rights reserved.

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

  Publisher’s Notes:

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronical, mechanical, or photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Published: Paige P. Horne 2016

  Pgpeacock13@gmail.com

  Editor: Paige Maroney Smith

  Cover design: ProBook Premade Covers

  Proofreaders: Crystal Jones and Monica Lewis

  Dedication

  To my readers: I love you. Thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four: The past

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chalky tablets filled with the promise of no feeling bounce off each other in the clear sandwich bag in my hand. I pull it apart and tip it upside down, releasing two pills into my palm. I grab my driver’s license and place the pills onto the small mirror on top of my dresser. Laying the card over the pills, I place my palm on top of it and smash them until they are tiny flakes of powder. Then I separate four small lines. Taking the cut-off straw, I lean down and snort. I tilt my head back, wincing once the bitter powder taste hits the back of my throat.

  “He let me go,” I whisper, still trying to understand it all, trying to figure out why he thinks this is a good idea. He wouldn’t tell me the three words we always say when the other needs reassurance. I sniff and rub my nose. Placing my hands onto the edge of my dresser, I grip it until my knuckles turn white. I crunch up four more lines as the pain slices me on the inside. Tiny, like paper cuts.

  A single lamp casts a velvet golden glow in my dark room, along with strips of moonlight that’s escaped through the small cracks of the plastic blinds. My shadow appears on the wall of memories across from me, letting me know I’m not completely alone. I walk over and reach my hand out, my fingertips gripping the edge of one of the pictures. With a swift yank, I rip it off, remembering promises of forever floating out of his mouth into my heart. I yank more photos before I sink onto my bed, because I now know that no longer applies to us. Choking on tears that fall too freely from my burning eyes, I try to make them stop, but I’m not in control anymore. Shaky lungs and a heart that keeps missing beats fight to keep me alive, but my mind is turning against them. Leaning my face down into soft cotton, I grab my comforter and squeeze it so tightly I can feel my fingernails breaking through. Screams of sorrow escape my mouth and cover the pillow my face is pressed into, disrupting the silence in my small room.

  A wave of nausea breaks inside my stomach, and I get up and run to the bathroom. Clutching onto porcelain, I throw up until my ribs ache. Coldness from the ceramic seeps through my jeans, and my shins press painfully into the hard floor, but I welcome another form of pain. I lean back against the wall behind me, and more tears fall as I roll my head and look up at the flickering light. I close my eyes briefly before I put my palms down flat and push myself up off the floor. I look at my reflection, and I don’t recognize the person looking back. My eyes are swollen, and my pupils are dilated from drugs that dissolved before I got sick. My face is pale with blotches of red spread throughout. I look into my brown eyes and see it. I see the glow of my soul flicker out and disappear, nothing left but a black empty space.

  I’m soulless.

  Glass cracks against my fist, leaving my face disoriented. Now I look like I feel, shattered with sharp edges. I clutch the sink, wondering just how fast I would bleed out. My mind drifts, taking me back to places I want to forget, memories I wish I’d never had. Walking out of the bathroom with no thought at all, I snatch my drawing pad off the dresser and toss it into the trashcan. Grabbing his hoodie before I walk out of my room, I slide it over my head and take the hair tie off my wrist. The stairs creak when I walk down them as I throw my hair up and head to the front door. I don’t even look over at Landon or Frankie as I walk past them.

  “B,” Landon says, standing up, but I ignore the boy I call my brother.

  “Maddie B. Callaway,” Frankie says sternly, and I stop in my tracks. My hand on the doorknob, I turn to face him, seeing the pain from inside me etched onto his face.

  He feels it, too.

  Permanent wrinkles in his forehead show how we kids have pushed him to the limit more than once, but he would never say it out loud. Hell, it isn’t easy raising three foster kids who know what it’s like to be given up or left behind. I stare at him with no heart on my sleeve. No one will ever know again what my love feels like. My life source beats to keep my body alive, but that is now its sole purpose. It will be used for nothing else.

  “Be careful,” stressed from loving three kids who aren’t his blood tells me as realization hits him. He knows I’m gone, and no one is bringing me back. I nod and grab my keys off the key holder. Looking over to Landon one last time, I see the hurt in his eyes also, but there’s nothing in me that cares. I’m heartless. High on the inside, and at the moment free of the pain.

  I turn the knob and shut the past.

  A Few Months Later

  “Maddie.” I hear and slowly pick my head up off the bar.

  “What?” I groan, tipping over the full shot glass in front of me with my clumsy hand. Liquor spills onto the mahogany top, and I mumble, “Sorry.”

  “The cab I called is here,” the deeper than an average man’s voice
says, sounding a little more irritated than before. I slightly open my eyes, and my blurry vision clears as I look at the dishrag that’s worn out from being washed too many times. He tightens his hold on it, and thick veins under black ink protrude from his strong grip. I look up and see it’s the bartender. Shawn or some shit. I don’t know. I grab the glass bottle that’s been in front of me long enough for it to count and slide off the stool. It leans on two legs before gravity flops it back down on four.

  “You don’t need any more of that,” Shawn tells me.

  “Who the fuck are you? My father?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m gonna say no on that one,” I mumble, all matter-of-factly. “Him being dead and all.” Dismissing the bartender with a wave of my hand, I trip over my own feet. I manage to get my balance with some help from another barstool and then take a sip from the whiskey bottle as I walk past pool tables with no players. I sniff and rub my nose before I open the door to the hole-in-the-wall shit bar and step outside. Cold wind lifts up stray pieces of my dark hair and swirls them around my face as I feel the cracks in my hand widen from no gloves and too many nights spent without them. Grabbing the car door handle, I feel tiny pieces of ice break away as I lift up and open the door. I get into the cab. I guess he knows where I’m supposed to go because he takes off without me saying a word. I don’t care where he takes me really.

  Buildings of cracked red brick and old stone that has seen years before me fly by the window, and it’s too hard to concentrate, so I close my eyes and let sleep find me, as it does a lot these days. Sleep is my only escape. It frees me from reality and moves me to a different place in time. Some days the memories are sweet. Like a cold watermelon on a hot summer day. I’m a kid again and sitting on the front porch steps, my mouth covered in delicious juice from the big slice of fruit in my hand as I watch my boys play baseball in the front yard. I relish those nights. I try to hold on to them, giving my body a break from all the pain I feel when I’m not messed up. But some nights I don’t get the happy dream, and during those nights, my dreams are not dreams at all, but gut-wrenching nightmares. They pull me under, but the sad thing is, they aren’t some figment of my imagination. They are real life. Bits of the past forever burned inside my mind.

  “Hey.” I hear and feel someone tapping me. I open my eyes and look around.

  “Where am I?” I ask, my voice sounding groggy and unfamiliar as I take in the cracked blue leather around me. Musk that’s embedded in these nasty seats drifts upward, making me wrinkle my nose in disgust. Outdated air fresheners hang on the rearview mirror, and I roll my eyes.

  “Well, at least you try,” I grumble.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing important,” I reply, sitting up.

  “This is where that bartender told me to take you,” he says, and I look out the window, noticing my ratty apartment building.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I open the door.

  “Hey, you gonna pay me or what?” he asks. I dig into my jeans pocket and toss him some money before I shut the door. Dogs bark as I make my way to my one bedroom. This is what my life has turned into. I’m a messed-up piece, and I wish I cared. It’s been months since I’ve seen or talked to Frankie and Landon, but I’m okay with that. That’s what happens when life keeps throwing you shit. You either move on or you don’t, and I don’t.

  Walking inside my door, I remove my coat and walk over to my bed. The old mattress gives beneath me as I sit down and remove my shoes. The loose wooden headboard knocks against the wall, making the only sound in the small room as I rest back on it. I’m alone again, and my friends call to me like they always do. I reach over to the nightstand drawers and pull one open. Clear baggies filled with my special form of peace lie flat, and I grab one of them. Yanking it open, I tilt it upside down and let more than I need fall out into my hand. I toss them back, chasing them with the leftover liquor from the bottle on the table beside me. The hard liquor burns going down, but it’s a burn I welcome because it’s the only thing I feel. The bottle slips through my fingers, and the echo from the hard glass hitting the floor bounces around me as I fall back and lie down. The room spins, and I sit up.

  “God, make it stop,” I groan, but it doesn’t stop, so I get up and stumble to the bathroom. Walking straight isn’t happening, and I end up going sideways, tripping over a shoe before I land on my face. The taste of blood fills my mouth, and I laugh because I can’t help it. Fucking pathetic and drunk, I put my palms down flat and try to push myself up onto my knees. Grabbing the back of the chair, I lift myself up. Once I’m upright, I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower on. I glance over at the toilet, noticing a few empty cocaine sacks that didn’t go down. I wish they weren’t floating in water… and I wish they weren’t empty.

  I remove my baggy clothes and stare at my naked reflection in the mirror behind the wooden door. It makes my stomach turn more, so I look away and get under the steaming water. It’s too hot, burning my tender skin, but it's a feel-good kind of pain. My conscience eats at my mind every minute inside of every hour, inside of every day, and anything to help me think of something else is my best fucking friend. Pills, pills, and more pills.

  My legs grow weak, and my mind drifts in and out as the drugs make themselves known. I smile, my legs give out, and I slip down into the tub. I just want to close my eyes for a minute.

  Just a minute and then I’ll get out.

  I feel a sweet, oh-so sweet blanket of warmth start to climb up my body. My senses slow down, and my blood flows leisurely through my veins. Time becomes still, and I feel each and every sprinkle from the water cascading down on me. My eyes grow heavy, my arms grow weak, and I feel calmer than I ever have. The blanket covers me now, and my eyes will not open. I’m weightless, and I might be okay with that.

  The gunshot rings in my ears, and I watch as the blood leaves their bodies, turning bright red as it travels down the uneven pavement and settles into a puddle. My hands shake, and sweat forms on my forehead. My head moves involuntary from side to side in complete disbelief.

  “No.”

  I hardly breathe. The air in my lungs feels like razor blades slicing me from the inside out. I look up from their dead bodies and at the gun pointed directly at me. I blink, and big tears fall, clearing my vision when I look into the cold blue eyes of the person who just killed my parents. An eerie chill runs down my spine, tangling and twisting with my veins until it reaches my heart and spreads like a wildfire.

  “Fuck,” the man who owns the gun says before he drops his arm and takes off running. I watch him as he gets into his car. It cranks, and the tires spin, filling the air with thick black smoke. I’m alone. Everyone is dead. I turn my eyes back to my parents as they lie motionless on the hard ground. My lungs shake as I try to take in air, and a deep ache settles in my chest. My knees buckle, and I crawl over to them. I lie across my mother and reach out to touch my dad’s arm.

  “No, no,” I whisper. “Come back,” I say to the darkness. My voice cracks, and more hot tears fall from my big brown eyes. “Don’t leave me,” I cry. “Come back.”

  “Come back to us, Maddie!” What is that? The voices come in and fade out again. I feel a painful fullness in my lungs.

  “Maddie.” I hear again. Who is that? The pain grows sharper, and I realize I can’t take in air. “Maddie! She’s still not breathing.”

  Fucking breathe, I tell myself. Breathe!

  Tiny needles prick inside my lungs, and I feel a rush of air enter my throat. More air pushes harder, the pain breaks free, and my eyes fly open. Water comes out of my mouth and nose, and it burns like acid. I cough and cough until my eyes water, and I look over and see the bathtub I was in. Water flows over the top, and I don’t understand.

  “Maddie, look at me.” I blink and try to focus. “Maddie B, it’s Frankie.” I hear. Frankie? I try to talk, but someone tells me to take it easy. I look over and see a medic.

  “Ma’am, we have to get you to the hospital.” I turn to the other s
ide of me and see Frankie. I’m so confused. What the hell has happened? My brain is so foggy still, and I’m so tired. I close my eyes for a second, and it feels too good. I hear mumbling, but can’t make it out. I can’t fight the sleep. I give in, and I’m falling again, but this time I’m not okay with it. I’m scared, and I see his face in my mind before I’m out.

  A Few Days Later

  My eyelids flutter open, and I move my toes. The room comes into view, and I hear beeping. I’m in a hospital. I try to swallow, but it hurts and makes me groan.

  “Maddie.” I peer over and see Landon. “Here, have some water,” he says as he lifts the cup to my lips. I take it, grateful for the cold fluid that soothes my dry, raw throat. It makes me wince, though, and I clutch the blanket that’s covering me to try to force it down. Landon puts the cup on the nightstand and takes his seat beside my bed.

  “You almost died, B,” he says. “You almost fucking died on me.” He puts his hands on his face, and I look away.

  “What happened?” I ask, finally finding my voice. He looks up and sniffs as he adjusts his snapback on his head.

  “Frankie and I were going crazy not hearing from you, so we started looking around. Found out you were spending all your time at some local dive bar. The bartender told us where you lived so we went over. We didn’t hear anything, and we knocked forever. Finally, Frankie got tired of knocking so he kicked the door in, and we found you in the tub. Your head was halfway underwater. He yanked you out and started giving you CPR while I called the ambulance.”