SNAP (The SNAP Trilogy Book 1)

by Dawn, Tara

  Bobby sat back and looked away from Dustin trying to control his emotions. He loves him like a brother. Dustin threatening to cut him out of his life told Bobby everything he needed to know. Dustin's loyalties have changed. They are no longer for his family and friends; they are for money, the drugs that make him money, and the man that can supply both. What I want to know is if money really is the driving factor or fear. Has Dustin gotten a taste of Phil's wrath?

  We didn't stay long after that. When Dustin pulled out his box to do more Snap, I knew he was trying to silence his demons and bring back some semblance of happiness. I didn't want to be around to witness him suppressing his guilt for how he treated everyone with those comments, especially Bobby. I will be talking to Erick tomorrow about getting Bobby away from this cesspool before he gets involved with Dustin to keep them on speaking terms.

  My fingers grip the steering wheel as I navigate the back roads between Swanson and Trinity. The only cars on these dirt roads at this hour are the stoners and the drunks attempting to get to parties or home without getting pulled over. Very few cops patrol them. It's a questionable area where they ride the line of both towns and the cops don't want to deal with the bureaucratic bullshit of jurisdiction. It's essentially a get out of jail free card; that is if you don't get pulled over by the cops waiting at both ends.

  I peek at Cash wondering what's going through his mind and he's staring at me, his handsome face highlighted by the glow of the dashboard lights. He's waiting for me to break the silence. What he wants to know won't be easy for me to tell. I couldn't even open up to Cady. Taking a deep breath in preparation, I pull over to the side of the road.

  My finger taps nervously on the steering wheel as I work up the courage to open my mouth. I stare out the windshield at the spread of my headlights and the darkness beyond.

  "Ask."

  I'm not dredging up every detail of that night with him. Not that I can remember them all, I wish there were no memories at all. It would be better not knowing than to live with it every day.

  "What did Phil do to you?"

  His deep voice is quiet, soothing even, but there's an edge to it. He wants to know, yet he dreads the answer. I dread saying it aloud. Talking about it means it's real, that it happened. I'd much prefer to keep it tucked away pretending it was just a horrible, reoccurring dream. That much I can handle. This, not so much.

  I get lost in the memories of that night and the days that followed. The fading of my bruises were how I kept track of time as I tried to make sense of it all and came to terms with it. It's easier to get lost in the bad things that happen in life than the good. I've got the scars to prove it. Both physical and mental.

  Cash's hand covers mine, peeling my aching fingers from the steering wheel and lacing them with his.

  "I don't remember it all. He–"

  I lick my lips, a weak attempt to build myself up. Phil not only stole my peace of mind, he stole my voice.

  Cash pulls his hand away and retrieves his phone from his pocket. He starts punching buttons, my anger growing with every tap of his finger on the screen. Here I am trying to open up to him, and he's on his goddamn phone. Who does that shit? Inconsiderate assholes, that's who.

  As I grab the gear shift to put it in drive, his hand covers mine stopping me.

  "I get that it's hard to talk about, and I don't want to force you to say anything you don't want to. I'm going to show you something," he says confusing me.

  I look at him wondering what he could possibly show me right now. His hesitance worries me. From what I've seen of Cash, he isn't one to hesitate. He holds the phone up so I can see the screen, which has turned off.

  "All I want you to say is yes or no."

  He hits a button and his phone comes to life blinding me for a second. When they adjust, I can't believe my eyes and close them tightly thinking I'm mistaken. I open them to realize I wasn't and I can't tear my gaze away. I wore those marks, some still remain and will take longer to fade. The terror on her face…I can only imagine that's what I looked like when I woke up and saw Phil above me. I don't know what I find more horrific, the blood stains on her jeans or the bruises marring her flesh. Who is this woman?

  The screen goes dark, but the image is forever burned into my mind. Knowing that someone else suffered what I went through…no one should ever have to endure that. The brutality is enough to break someone completely.

  Cash's fingers meet my cheek making me flinch and open my eyes I hadn't realized I closed. His dark eyes full of compassion and a need to commit murder. He raises his hand again and swipes tears from my face.

  "That's all I needed to know."

  Which is far more than I ever would have said.

  Cash

  After showing Hazel the picture of the woman, there was no doubt that Phil had done the same to her. She didn't have to say anything, her face said it all. Most people would be shocked and appalled. Hazel was neither. Empathy and fear haunted her features as her eyes slowly flickered from bruise to bruise reliving each one all over again until she couldn't take it anymore. Tears rolled down her cheeks when her lids clamped tightly closed, sealing Phil's fate with them. That motherfucker will experience a torment far worse than he could ever dream of inflicting on someone else. Not just for Hazel, but for the nameless woman whose only downfall was looking like her.

  I drove the rest of the way to Trinity, even though I was worried about being pulled over. The drug started kicking my ass as soon as we left Dustin's house. I welcomed the darkness, thankful that Hazel couldn't see my eyes. I haven't seen them, and my eyes are normally dark, but I fear they are solid black like the others were. Hazel trusting me is my number one concern, and she finally opened up some to me. If she even thinks that I used drugs tonight, she'll build those walls back up and push me away.

  Hazel leans her head against the window and stares out into the nothingness that surrounds us. I did this to her. She hasn't asked me who that woman is or why I had that picture on my phone. She hasn't said anything at all. There will come a time when she asks me those questions and I'll have to come up with an explanation. But that won't happen until she's able to lock away her own memories again.

  Tonight was supposed to be a fun night. Go out with Hazel, grab the drugs while I'm at the party, and go back to her house to fuck her brains out and start getting her out of my system. It won't be long before I take off with little more than a goodbye, it was nice knowing you. But now, all I want to do is spend the night holding her and help to rebuild her faith in men. If I can replace some of her pain with…compassion, it could help begin the healing process.

  Once I get into Trinity, I go through a local drive-thru and grab some food. She doesn't look my way when I get to the speaker, so I order for her. I get what I know she likes and hope it warms her heart that I remember little things she's said to me over the last couple of weeks.

  When we get back to her house, I take a look around and let us in. She sits down on the couch as I lock the door then walk through her apartment to make sure Phil didn't pay a visit after he left. I'd say everything is as it was, but I'm shocked when I enter her bedroom. It's still cluttered, but she has carpet, and her bed's made. She's been busy cleaning. I can't help but smile thinking she did this for my benefit.

  I sit down on the couch next to her and pull the food out of the bag, placing a bacon cheeseburger and fries in front of her. She looks down at it for a moment before carefully opening the wrapper and taking a small bite, then laying it back on the wrapper. That's a start. She's not completely lost in that head of hers.

  "Wanna watch a movie?" I wink at her and the corners of her mouth pull up in a sad smile.

  She nods her head and I grab the remote flipping through the channels. The 40 Year Old Virgin is on and if anyone needs to laugh right now, it's the two of us, especially her. Hazel picks at her food at first, but after a few minutes eats almost all of it before shoving it back in the bag. The food helps to tamp down the effects
of the pill I took, but not all of them. I can still feel it through my entire body.

  "I think I'm gonna take a shower," she mumbles.

  Hazel's giving me an out, but I'm not going anywhere. She's doesn't need to be alone tonight, and after what I've seen I don't want to be alone either. Right here is exactly where I need to be. I need to get my head on straight before I go chasing after Phil again.

  "I'm not going anywhere."

  She nods and leaves the room. Rustling comes from her bedroom before the bathroom door closes. I wait a few minutes before sneaking out to my truck to hide the pill and call Dale. He picks up immediately.

  "Please tell me you have good news." His sounds old and tired.

  "I have some news," I tell him and smirk at the hallelujah shouted through the phone.

  "Don't get so excited. Joseph is in for some work. It's not ours, it's completely different."

  "What do you mean?" he asks, his voicing rising. "Phil's not taking Snap? What is he on?"

  "Calm your tits, Dale. I don't have long, so listen up and save your yelling for later."

  I fill him in on the night, the pills, and the effects of them. He sits quietly and listens as I quickly describe it all hoping Hazel takes a long shower and doesn't walk in the room to discover me gone.

  "Tell Joseph to be ready. I'll be back tomorrow night."

  Dale grunts before saying, "You shouldn't have taken it. Be prepared for the ass kicking of a lifetime, my friend."

  The call ends and I chuckle. Maybe in his wildest fucking dreams. Dale has never been able to take me down, but he sure is passionate when he tries.

  I sneak back in to an empty living room. The bathroom door is still closed, so I kick my shoes off and lay down on the couch waiting for her. About ten minutes later she emerges in an oversized t-shirt and cotton pants, drying her hair with a towel. Her arms and neck are red as if she scoured her skin in the shower in an attempt to erase the pain. She drapes the towel over a kitchen chair and pours herself a glass of wine. I'm not going to argue with her. Whatever helps to bring her some normalcy.

  As she walks toward the couch I go to sit up, but she signals for me to stay and sits on the floor resting back against the middle cushion. She takes a drink of her wine and chokes on it as Steve Correl screams bloody murder while getting his chest waxed. I laugh deep, feeling it in my stomach, as he belligerently curses. Hazel cracks a smile and chuckles a little too.

  "This movie is stupid," she says as she lays her head back on the cushion.

  "Stupid? This movie is awesome," I retort, exasperated.

  "I didn't say it wasn't good." She shrugs her shoulders. "It's stupid funny."

  "No, Dumb and Dumber is stupid funny. This movie is hilarious. There's probably some nerd out there that thinks this movie portrays their life."

  Hazel's mouth drops open and she smacks my leg. "Don't be ugly."

  "What? I'm not being ugly. I couldn't be ugly if I tried. Have you even paid attention to all this?" I wave my hand down the length of my body and she rolls her eyes, snorting at my antics.

  "Everyone has an awkward period in their life. You didn't always look like that." She mimics the wave of my hand and takes a drink of wine waiting for my response.

  "Hate to burst your bubble, but I've had swagger since the day I was born." I put my hands behind my head and smile, letting my cockiness rule me, then wink at her.

  I'm thankful she's not dwelling on what happened to her. That shows her strength and resolve to not let Phil keep her down. I’ll do anything I can to get a reaction out of her, to make her feel alive again and not be that shell of a person she was shortly before. Living in that darkness is not living, it's only surviving. She has too much ahead of her to suffer that kind of existence.

  Hazel cocks her head to the side and studies me for a moment. She points at me with her drink hand and squints her eyes. "I'm sure you were cutting girls' gums all over town when you had them braces, too."

  "You little–"

  My fingers take action, slipping under her arm and assaulting her with tickles. She jerks and shrieks spilling wine on herself. She tries to break free and sets her glass down, but I'm all over her. As she blocks my hands I find other places that make her squeal with laughter. She's laughing so hard she can't keep upright and tears stream down her face. This is the way she should always be, happy and carefree. The way I want to remember her.

  "I'm…gonna…pee!"

  I give one more tickle for good measure then wrap my arms around her to hold her steady. She wipes away her tears as she gasps for air trying to catch her breath. Hazel is the most ticklish person I've ever met. I grab her hand and pull her down on the couch with me.

  She lays her head against my shoulder as she catches her breath and all I can smell is her coconut shampoo on her lightly damp hair. It always reminds of summers past, girls in bikinis, and the beaches of California where my grandparents used to take me when I was younger. The memories have always been good ones. But now when I smell coconut, I'll picture Hazel. Her smile, the way she feels in my arms cuddled up on her shitty couch, and how even in an old, torn-up shirt two sizes too big with faded cotton sleep pants, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It'll be a bittersweet reminder.

  The thoughts make my chest constrict, every breath feeling like a knife stabbing me inside. I don't like those thoughts. They cause me to feel deeper than I'd like. Every moment I spend with her awakens emotions that I buried long ago; emotions I swore to myself that would never see the light of day again. I know it's not my father's fault, he did what he thought was best for all of us. Any blame I have I place on my whore of a mother. My grandparents had a hard time of it, learning how to raise a child decades after their own were grown. They were strict, but not overbearing.

  My dad was in the marines and did several tours in Saudi when I was younger. Mom went wild while he was gone and constantly dropped me off at my grandparents' house. In the beginning it would be a night here or there. Then she would be gone for days at a time without calling, then weeks. I missed her horribly and sobbed myself to sleep. She would cry when I would tell her, and always tell me she'd never leave me for that long again, but after the first couple of times she didn't keep her promises, I knew they were all lies. My tears just made her feel guilty. She never intended to change. Eventually she dropped me off and never came back. Although I was child, I wasn't surprised. After the way she did me, I knew it was bound to happen.

  My grandparents didn't want to worry my father while he was at war. So they just made it seem like I just happened to be there every time he called looking for us. When he came home six months later, they broke the news to him. He was devastated that my mom could do that to our family. He wasn't the same person I remembered before he left. There were times when he didn't even seem like he was there. We continued to live with my grandparents after he came home, which was the best thing for me because my father couldn't function on a day to day basis. Some days were better than others, but some were awful. He was losing his mind.

  When he signed up for another tour, it upset me because I felt like he was leaving me, too, but it felt more like a stranger abandoning me at that point. My Mammy, what I call my grandmother, tried to explain to me how bad war was without really revealing anything. She said that my dad had seen some horrible things and didn't know how to cope with it all. I later understood that as PTSD. When he came back a year later, he was empty inside. He deteriorated even more over the next few months. I found his dead body hanging in the garage when I went to ride my bike after school. Those memories are sketchy at best. I think my young mind couldn't process it all and locked everything away. Except for his vacant eyes. Those I will always remember.

  My mother showed up for the funeral. She had a whole new life with a new husband and a baby. She had replaced us like a worn pair of shoes. We just weren't comfortable enough for her. If I thought I was done being heartbroken over my mother, I was fucking wrong. She intro
duced me to my baby sister like I was the neighbor's child. Mammy didn't let me out of her sight that day. I clung to her hand like I was drowning when my mother approached with that child. The only thing I muttered the entire day was to that baby.

  "I hope she loves you more than she loved me."

  My mother's joyous expression disappeared as tears filled her eyes. It wasn't a time for family reunions. Her husband, who I assume was waiting to meet me as well, reflected her hollowness at my words. The woman abandoned me long before she actually disappeared. I guess my words could have been meant for him as well. They didn't stay long after that and she didn't tell me goodbye either.

  Pops, my grandfather, did the best he could to raise me into an upstanding citizen with morals and values. Mammy did her best to teach me about love and respect. She always said you can't have one without the other. Regardless of what my parents did to me, my grandparents loved me with everything they had. I had a normal upbringing, but they saw the change in me after my dad died. They assumed it was the shock of finding my father and seeing my mother again, but it never went away. There were pieces of me broken that can never be fixed, no matter how hard they tried. They finally stopped trying to get me to open up to them.

  They've also stopped asking when I'm going to settle down and give them some grandchildren. Not that they would be able to enjoy them on an everyday basis if I did. They moved to Cali after Pops retired and we visit each other several times a year, but it's not the same. I think they were just worried that I would be all alone since they are gone. I've got Dale and Joseph. They are like my brothers. We became inseparable when we were children and even attended Florida State University together. Four years of sowing our wild oats was all that was needed. We partied hard, and at one point I almost got kicked out school. My Pops was fit to be tied. He threatened to make a trip just to tan my hide. I knew it was time to straighten up. If Pops said he was going to whoop my ass, he wasn't fucking around anymore.