by Regan Ure
"It may hurt now but one day you will thank me." He shrugged his broad shoulders. He looked resigned with his decision.
"I doubt that," I shot back, feeling the anger through my heartbreak. My first and possibly only chance at real love had already decided to end us before we had even had a chance to begin.
Matthew's words echoed in my mind: "Find someone who can love you." I felt the sting of tears but bravely ignored them, refusing to allow him to see me cry over him.
"Look after yourself. Get the help you need," he said. Then he gave me one last look that stripped me bare, but I couldn't just leave it at that.
"I can take care of myself. All I need from you is to stay out of my life." He held my gaze before he walked away. I felt him brush past me as he left.
I tilted my head up to the ceiling as my first tears escaped just as I heard the door close behind him. Putting my head to my chest to ease the pain, I inhaled and my tears began to break free.
Feeling weak, I sat down on the couch and pulled my knees to my chest. I replayed his words in my mind while wiping my tears.
He was worried about me but he didn't want to be the person to help me. Our connection and my true feelings for him had allowed him to break through my walls I'd built to protect myself.
I was alone with a broken heart and broken walls with no protection. I reached for the bottle, despite his warning, and swallowed one. Just today I would use them to mask the pain. Tomorrow I would stop using them and try to find another way to deal with it.
Maybe it was better this way. Instead of spending more time with Slater and increasing the intensity of what I felt for him, I knew exactly where I stood with him. There was no wondering or second-guessing. I wasn't enough for him to even try.
My thoughts drifted to Connor. I knew I should probably call him and tell him Shannon was Slater's dead sister, but something made me stop. Maybe knowing what had happened would help me understand the boy I loved and it would help me get over him.
It was something, and I needed that hope. Slater would still be a part of my life because of my friendship with Taylor. Finding a way to see him with someone else without falling to pieces was what I had to figure out.
Feeling tired, I got ready for bed. That night, though, sleep didn't come easily. My mind was too busy with the events from my visit with Slater. When I finally fell asleep, I hoped I could at least hold on to him in my dreams.
But my dreams turned to nightmares.
I smelled stale cigarettes as I huddled in my bed. My hands were tightly gripping my covers, using them to protect me.
The sound of my door creaking open made me turn my head, and I saw the shadowed man step into my room.
I closed my eyes briefly, hoping and praying he was just a part of my imagination, but when I finally found the courage to reopen them he was still there.
No, my mind said. I don't want to.
But I didn't make a sound as he got closer.
"Baby?" he whispered. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend I was sleeping.
But it didn't stop him.
I shot up in the bed. My heart thumped in my chest so loudly it echoed in my ears. I switched on my side light and the dark, scary room transformed into my familiar sanctuary.
It's just a dream, I told myself, hoping it would ease the fear that still gripped my lungs like a vise, making it difficult to breathe. My eyes flitted around my room, scared that at any moment he would reappear.
I backed up against my wall and pulled my covers up to my chin, remembering the familiar fear from my dream.
It had been a memory from my childhood. I knew logically I didn't need to be afraid anymore, but the fear didn't ease as I fixated on the space the man had occupied in my dream.
He isn't here, I kept telling myself, hoping it would soothe me.
I hadn't had a nightmare like that since the last time my dark childhood memories had resurfaced and disrupted my life.
But this time there were no walls to protect me. My connection with Slater had given him the power to get closer than anyone had. It left me vulnerable.
This time it was going to be harder to deal with my demons.
I could still smell the stale cigarettes that hung in the air. I began to shake, unable to stop myself.
He had come, he had taken, and he was gone.
Feeling helpless, I remained where I was, unable to move because of the fear he would return. The fear wasn't rational but it didn't undermine the intensity of it.
* * *
It took me hours to recover from Slater's visit. Not only did his advice about my medication take me by surprise but there was also a finality to it that was hard to process.
I was still wide awake when Levi returned home at around two in the morning.
The fear gripped me, refusing to allow me to overcome it.
Later, I got up when the sun rose and I got ready for class. When my eyes settled on the bottle of tablets that had helped me to this point, I remembered Slater's words: "Deal with the issue and stop taking drugs to mask it."
Determined to prove I could cope without them and prove him wrong, I went to the bathroom and emptied the bottle into the toilet. I flushed it and watched as the tablets disappeared in a swirl of water.
You can do this, I told myself. You will get through it without needing drugs to weaken the pain.
I went to classes even though I couldn't concentrate on the lectures. In a haze I went from one class to the next.
Feeling tired, I got home and went straight to my room. Levi had left a note to say he would be home later. I didn't eat; my appetite was gone. I walked to my room and dropped my bag beside my table.
I got ready for bed. It was only when the sky darkened into night that the debilitating fear from my childhood returned. Hiding behind my blanket, curled up the corner, I waited for the return of my tormentor.
The moment I closed my eyes, the door opened slowly as the handle turned. Panic made my heartbeat race and I pressed my eyes tightly closed, hoping to block it out.
The door opened and I heard his footsteps. Closer and closer.
Please, don't, I begged inside. It was the voice of a child.
"Baby," he whispered, but I refused to respond.
If I pretended I was asleep he might leave me alone. My body was rigid as my heart pounded in my ears. With every footstep closer, my nightmare continued.
The feel of a hand touching my leg made me cry silent tears. He would never stop.
I woke up, still in the throes of my nightmare, still tangled in the fear. It took me a few moments to realize I was awake as I looked frantically around the room, ready to bolt at any sign of immediate danger.
But there was nothing. My curtains danced as the wind blew but there was no one in my room.
Relief flooded through me and I put my hand to my heart, trying to inhale and exhale deeply to calm myself down. I hoped I hadn't made too much noise. The thought of Levi coming to check on me wasn't something I wanted to deal with.
Checking my watch, it was three in the morning, but there was no way I was going back to sleep. To avoid the nightmares, I had to stay awake. I watched the darkness as I bit my nails. I was so tired, my muscles ached.
Eventually the sun began to rise and the darkness in my room faded with the fear that had kept me up most of the night.
I had to go to school but I just couldn't. I didn't have the energy or the emotional stability to keep myself together. I couldn't keep going like this. If I didn't find a way to cope with my childhood demons, it was going to impact my future.
What could I do, though? Slowly, with a mind that wasn't thinking straight, I tried to come up with solutions.
I can go and see someone. Lots of people went to psychiatrists for help to deal with issues. But I couldn't. My secret was dark, and the thought of opening up to a stranger nearly broke me out in a nervous sweat.
No. That wasn't going to help me.
My phone began to ring. It was my mom. I exha
led an emotional breath before I answered.
"Hi, Mom," I greeted her, keeping my voice cheerful to cover my emotional state as I rubbed my temple.
"Hi, sweetie," she said, her voice hoarse. I frowned. There was something going on.
"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling an immediate panic.
"It's your Uncle Phillip…" I froze, clutching the phone tighter to my ear. She couldn't finish her sentence, overcome with emotion.
"What, Mom?" I asked in a whisper.
"He's dead." She sobbed.
My world swirled around me and I leaned against the wall to keep myself upright.
Dead. My brain felt fuzzy as I tried to understand what that meant.
"Jordan?" my mother asked through her tears. "Are you there?"
It was unbelievable. He was dead.
"Jordan?" she repeated, her voice sharp with concern.
"I'm here," I finally managed to get out.
"He was in an accident…" she said, but my mind wasn't processing what she was saying.
He's dead. It kept repeating in my mind like I was unable to understand.
"Jordan?" my mom said again.
"Yes," I said, even though I had no idea what she'd been saying for the last few minutes.
"I need you, darling." I had to go home.
"Of course," I said, smothering my feelings. My mother had just lost her brother. "I'll be there today."
I got her off the phone with the assurance I would get the first bus home. I grabbed my duffel bag and began to shove in some clothes. I got some toiletries and threw them in too. Closing the bag, I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything.
I sent Levi a message.
I'm going out of town for a couple of days.
I left it vague as to why because I wasn't ready for the sympathy or questions it would lead to. When I arrived I would call Taylor and let her know.
Okay. See you when you get back, he replied with a smiley face.
Hitching my bag over my shoulder, I kept my head down as I walked to the nearest bus station and bought a ticket to my hometown. It was an hour wait before I got on the bus. My mind replayed my brief conversation with my mother over and over but I still found it too hard to wrap my mind around the fact that my uncle was dead.
Thinking about him only brought more pain and suffering so I tried to block it out. I concentrated on my mom and what she would need from me. I had to be strong for her.
To keep myself from thinking of my family, I kept my mind on Slater. This time thinking about him helped me. I remembered the first moment I had met him, at a party. His perceptive eyes had weakened my knees and that knowing smile had touched something inside of me. Then, I had hoped he would be a good distraction. Well, I had gotten more than what I had bargained for.
Now all I was left with was my slightly broken heart and a clearer picture of the guy who, for some reason, refused to forgive himself for past mistakes.
"I deserve the pain." I didn't believe that.
Sin hadn't had a good childhood but somehow even he had been able to put it behind him to have a future with Taylor. It was sad that Slater couldn't do the same for me.
He has to love you enough, my mind answered.
I had obviously developed stronger feelings than he had. It sucked that it was only a one-sided heartache from the demise of our short arrangement.
An hour later the bus pulled into the familiar town where I had grown up. Every street and shop was filled with memories from my childhood. I put my hoodie on just before I disembarked with my duffel bag, hoping it would hide my identity from familiar faces so I could get home before anyone stopped me for a chat.
I just wanted to get home and see my mom. Her emotional state was my top concern. I could have called her to pick me up but I didn't want her behind the wheel of a car in the state she was in.
What about you? a voice in my head asked, but I suppressed it. First and foremost I had to be there for my mother. Later, when there was time, I would deal with my own emotions.
Chapter Nineteen
She was a mess when she finally answered the front door. Her eyes were red and puffy. It pulled at my heart to see her upset. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, grey mixing with her natural brown hair.
At the sight of me, she began to sob. I entered quickly, dropping my stuff so I could embrace her. I hugged her to me and soothed her. "It's okay, Mom."
I was slightly taller than her, which she told me I got from my father. My looks I had inherited from my mom. I didn't have memories of my father. He'd left when I was four.
She cried, and I held her. I loved my mom, and seeing her like this was upsetting to say the least. I led her to the living room and we sat down. With a trembling hand she reached for a tissue on the coffee table and dabbed her wet cheeks. I hated seeing her like this and wished I could take her pain away.
"I can't believe it. He was so young." I couldn't either. It was so sudden. He was thirteen years younger than my mother. He had been a late and unplanned child.
"What happened?" I asked. This time the question was my own. I needed to know how he had left this world. I wasn't sure why knowing would make any difference but somehow it did matter to me.
"He had an accident. There had been bad weather and a truck hit him. He was dead at the scene."
Her words hit me straight in the center of my chest and it was difficult to breathe.
"I know, darling," my mother said, looking at me with red puffy eyes, like she understood my reaction.
But she had no idea what I was feeling or why I was feeling it. There was no way she could.
"How's Janet?" I asked, trying to take her focus off me.
"She's a mess." Janet was Phillip's wife, and my aunt. They had been married for three years.
The rest of the afternoon I concentrated on being there for my mom as much as I could. Some neighbors and Janet's family came over. I kept promising myself that when I got a chance later, when no one was around, I would confront my own feelings.
I said what I was supposed to, playing the grieving niece well. It was only later when I slipped into my old bedroom and shut the door that I had a chance to allow myself to feel my true emotions.
I sat down with my back against the wall, staring at my bed opposite me. I rubbed my hands over my legs while I stared unseeing into the distance. Exhaling, I felt the first burst of emotion.
Relief.
It was finally over. I cried, hugging my knees to my chest, allowing myself to free the emotions I had been suppressing since I had found out.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I had ignored a dozen phone calls. I hadn't even bothered to see who was looking for me.
I dug it out of the pocket of my jeans.
It was Connor. Did he have some information on Slater?
I wiped my tears as I answered, "Hi."
"Why haven't you been answering your calls? This is the third time I've called you." His voice was terse. It meant the other missed calls were from someone else.
"Sorry, I've had a family thing I've been busy with," I said, hoping he would leave it at that.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his previous annoyance gone.
"Yes," I told him.
"What's going on, Jordan?" he asked. He was too perceptive. He didn't take anything at face value. To him, there was always more to the story than met the eye. I had to wonder if it was because of his parents' deaths or if it was just the way he was.
"A family member has unexpectedly passed." I said it without the grief a relative would feel.
There was a moment of silence.
"Please accept my condolences."
"Thanks."
"If there is anything you need, just call me."
"Did you find something?" I asked, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, afraid he would find it strange I wasn't grieving the way I should be.
"I just wanted to give you an update about Shannon," he said. Then I remembered I had forgotten
to tell him she was Slater's dead sister.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from revealing what I had already found out on my own. Knowing she was dead wasn't enough; I needed to know how. I hoped finding out what had happened would allow me to understand why Slater carried the burden of it around with him.
His issues went beyond mourning the loss of a sibling. There was more to it than just that.
"What did you find out?" I asked.
"At the age of five, she went into foster care. It's a bit difficult getting into the records but I have a contact who owes me a favor."
Foster care. Slater's sister had been in foster care?
"Foster care?" I questioned.
There was a moment of silence.
"At the age of six, Slater Graves and his five-year-old sister, Shannon Graves, were removed from their parents due to abuse. They were split up and sent into foster care. Didn't Slater tell you any of this?"
"No," I mumbled. I had no idea any of this had happened to him. My heart ached for what he had gone through. A six-year-old boy, being all alone? It renewed my raw feelings from the events of the day.
"I will let you know when I find out more."
"Thanks, Connor," I said.
"Let me know if you need anything," he said before ending the call.
The shock of Slater's past settled over the numbness of my own issues.
I didn't know Slater had been put into foster care. What had happened to his real parents? What abuse had he endured to be taken away at the age of six? I couldn't imagine being that age and going through something like that.
His sister had died. When had that happened? Is that why he felt so responsible, because he hadn't been able to protect her?
I'd heard stories where kids endured more abuse in foster homes than they had before in their own homes. Is that what had happened to Shannon? Even the slight guilt I felt for digging into his past wasn't enough for me to stop. I needed to know, even when I knew it was wrong.
In that moment I appreciated the mom who loved me, even though she hadn't been able to protect me fully. It wasn't her fault. I sometimes wrestled with whose fault it was. Was it mine? Had I done something to bring it on myself?