by T. L Smith
I didn’t stay to see or hear what they had to say, he posed no threat. So I searched for her and found her behind the first door. The locked one. I kicked it in, and there she was, helpless, no shirt, blood everywhere. Lying there still as the dead. I didn’t want to touch her, but was afraid if I didn’t I wouldn’t know if she was still alive. When her eyes looked up at me, I had to get her out of there. Take her with me and protect her.
She cried when I touched her, her hair looked like someone had pulled at it and taken chunks away. Her face was bruised badly like someone kicked it in; I don’t even want to know what was under those bandages that were covering her body.
When I got her to the car I called the doctor and demanded she meet me at my house, told her I’d pay her whatever she required. She was there when I showed up and a wave of relief washed over me. I hated picking her up, hearing those moans and cries of pain leaving her mouth. My black heart shattered, and became hers solely from that moment on. I wanted to maim and kill everyone that touched her, or even laid a finger on her.
The doctor gives her something for the pain, and it isn’t long before she falls asleep.
“I have to strap her ribs and get an ultrasound to make sure there’s no internal damage,” she says as she starts opening her bag and assessing her mid-region area. Once she’s done, she straps her ribs and Bexley doesn’t move throughout the whole process. She looks peacefully asleep.
“She will heal, nothing is broken, and nothing is punctured. Though she’s going to need bed rest for a few days,” she says handing me a bottle of pain meds she wants me to have Bexley take. I lean down and let my lips touch her, a light kiss and follow the doctor out the door. When I come back, Aria is standing in the doorway watching Bexley.
“What did he say?” I ask her, keeping my eyes on Bexley. I am referring to Mika, he wants what is mine.
“He wanted me, I’ve stolen his business. Word’s gotten out, you picked a winner,” she laughs dryly. “He wanted you to stop business on this side, you’re ruining his,” she tells me. I shake my head. Fucking prick. People want what I have, they always do. I’m good at what I do, I’m good at making money. And they see it, they want it. But it’s not them that work there ass’s off for it. It’s me.
“You shot him?” I ask turning to face her, her face scrunches up.
“Don’t get mad, I kind of made a deal with him. You did after all kill his brother.” She smiles.
“What deal, Aria?”
“I told him I would work for him as well.”
“You don’t have the right to decide that,” I scream at her, but she isn’t affected by me. She shrugs her shoulders like it doesn’t bother her.
“I saved you a great deal of conflict. He’s powerful, Zeke. Maybe not as much as you, but he knows people.” She turns to leave then stops and turns back to me.
“When she wakes up, if she wants to leave, let her. Don’t hold her because of your guilt, she’ll come back if she loves you as much as you love her,” she says then walks out the door.
Let her go? That will never happen. I will never let her go again, she’s now mine, forever.
I get a cloth and bowl of water and go to the bedroom where she’s asleep. I manage to get her undressed without moving her much or waking her up. Once I’ve cleaned her body, I start on her face, slowly wiping away the blood that’s dried to her face. She slowly opens her eyes. They make me stop and stare just from the pain she’s showing in them.
“Zeke,” she says, her voice sends shivers all over me.
“Don’t talk,” I tell her while continuing to wipe her down and brushing her hair away from her face.
“Call my father, I want him,” she says and closes her eyes and falls back asleep. I don’t wish to call that man. Dealing with him is not something I am ready to do. But something that Aria said nags at me. If that’s what she wants, who am I to stop her.
I wear the carpet out, walking back and forth watching her, listening to her breathing. Why can’t she just want me? Why does she need that man, yes, he may be her father, but I am her lover, the one she needs. The one that can give her everything.
I stop pacing when a rough squeeze of breath leaves her mouth, she’s in pain. I have to do what she wants, have to learn to please her. Stop putting my selfish ass first. I grab her phone and find his name, I take a deep breath and prepare to talk to a man I would rather kill than talk to.
“Yes,” a rough voice speaks from the phone.
“It’s Zeke Takon,” I say, wondering if he’ll hang up on me.
“What are you calling for, boy?” he asks angrily.
“It’s Bexley. She’s hurt, and she wants you,” is all I can say, just barely. I don’t want him to take her away.
“I guess this has something to do with you?” he asks.
“Yes.” No point in lying.
“I also guess you have her at your place?” he asks, the accusation never leaves his tone of voice.
“Yes,” I tell him again.
“I’ll be there soon,” he says and hangs up the phone. I walk back into the room to see her asleep. I should dress her, put something on her. But I don’t want her to go, don’t want her to leave.
She doesn’t move or make a sound when I slide my shirt on her. She looks peaceful. I don’t want to let her go.
****
The knock on the door is loud, and I know it’s him. But I’m also wondering how he got here so fast. I know he doesn’t live near here. When I open the door, the look he gives me is one of murder, and I’m sure if he could he would murder me where I stand.
“I’m taking her, and you’re not to say a word. If you contact her again, I won’t be so nice,” he says walking past me and straight into my room. I don’t stop him. Even though I want to grab my gun and shoot him.
Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes…just be an illusion.
~Javan~
I wake to voices, arguing voices. I recognize both, both people who shouldn’t be in the same room as one another. His voice is angry; I can tell he’s holding back. Trying his best not to shoot or murder my father. My father doesn’t help, he likes to get a rise from people, and he’s good at it. That’s why he’s in charge.
“You can’t pick her up,” Zeke seethes at my father.
“She isn’t staying here,” he shoots back.
“She needs to heal,” he responds.
“And she will, in my care. Now, tell me what happened?” my father demands.
“I got to her as fast as I could,” he says his voice lower than before.
“You can’t protect her, and you don’t love her.”
I open my eyes to see them standing nose-to-nose, anger rolling off of both of them. I cough and it pains me to do so, but both sets of eyes fly to me. Zeke walks straight to my side, grabs my hand and holds it in his.
“Can you stand?” my father asks from behind him. I think about it and try. When I manage to get my hands in the right position to lift myself, it hurts, worse than before. Zeke’s face looks more pained, and his hands come behind to support me. He helps me stand and I do just barely, thanks mainly to the strong painkillers I know are pumping around my system.
“Please stay,” he pleads with me, his voice unlike anything I’ve heard.
“I love you. Falling in love with you was easy, yet hard for me. Hard, because I fought it, easy because I knew it. But staying in love, being in love, it’s harder. You don’t make it easy,” I say to him, his hands become softer, like he’s trying to break loose but can’t.
“Don’t,” he manages to say, but it’s weak. So unlike him.
“I have to, Zeke. It’s broken. We’re broken…beyond repair.” His eyes shut, he doesn’t look at me as he stands.
“You don’t have to go.”
“Yes I do,” I say and my father holds his hand out for me to take, I take hold and don’t look back. This is it! This is the time I need to separate what the heart wants and what the hea
d knows. I can’t do this with him anymore. I wanted love, but not under these circumstances.
He’s quiet on the drive, my father isn’t much of a talker, never has been. But I was expecting to be grilled, or at least questioned.
“You’re just like your mother,” my father says. Which is unusual, he doesn’t speak of her at all. She died when I was young, I don’t have many memories of her.
“Why?” I ask not looking at him, staring at the road ahead.
“She left a trail of broken hearts wherever she went,” he says.
“How does that make me like her?”
“You do the same. That man, despite all his flaws, loves you.”
Wow! That’s not something I thought I would hear him say.
“He only thinks he does,” I mutter, lying back on the seat and closing my eyes.
“No, he does. Just like Tragger.”
“I don’t want to talk about Tragger, Papa.” It always comes back to him, he’s the man my dad wants me to marry more than anything.
“He will be good to you, keep you safe. Keep your heart safe.”
“Yes, he may, but I don’t love him.” He won’t listen to me, he never does.
“You could learn to.”
“Did you learn to love, Mom?”
He huffs at my statement. “I loved your mother from the first time I met her, she had me spellbound.”
“And you want less for me?” How can he expect me to learn to love someone?
“No, but I prefer you safe. And that man is not safe.”
“I know that, why do you think I’m here with you.” I want to scream at him, but nothing ever works with him and screaming won’t get me anywhere.
“We’re going home, I booked us on the next flight,” he tells me. I wonder why he’s here. Then I remember he had to come for work, and he didn’t even bother calling me to let me know he’d arrived.
The flight is quiet, nothing is spoken. And my mind doesn’t stop thinking of that man, that man that I know is not good for me.
****
My home is quiet. It’s been two days since the day I left Zeke. Tragger has visited me once, I asked him not to bother coming back. I don’t want to give him false hope when there’s nothing to give him. My father dropped me off, did some grocery shopping, and then I asked him to leave. I’ve done nothing but lay on my couch, watching reruns of old television programs.
My phone beeps from the couch, and I know it’s him. It’s been beeping the last couple of days, ringing as well. I’m wondering when the battery is going to die; surely it has to be soon?
I don’t want to look at it, don’t want to know what he has to say. I’m trying to separate us, but he just doesn’t seem to want that. He doesn’t understand that it will never work. He’s destroyed us, wrecked us from the start.
“Hey,” I hear from the couch. I stand and unlock the door to see Benji standing there. I haven’t seen him since the night I left Tragger. A small smile takes over my face and he leans in to cuddle me softly, then he steps back.
“Your father told me you were back,” he says following me inside. I go back to the couch where I was before and bring my legs up under me.
“I’m sure that’s not all he’s said,” I say rolling my eyes knowing he’s probably said a lot more.
“So you found it?” he asks and it takes me a moment to remember our earlier conversations. He told me to go and find love, to fall in love, and to fall out.
“Yep,” I say not looking at him.
“Did it destroy you?” he asks sounding serious.
“Might as well have,” I tell him.
“So he didn’t love you back?” It takes me a moment to answer that, I don’t know what to say.
“He says he does, but I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Why did it take him so long to tell me? Why did he treat me so bad? Why did he use me for sex? I don’t know, he said it himself he doesn’t love. So why would that change now?”
“Because of you.”
Though lovers be lost love shall not.
~Dylan Thomas~
It has been two weeks, and I feel way better than I did. I’m still hoarded up in my apartment because I don’t have to be anywhere. My phone has died and I don’t want to deal with any of that. A package arrived yesterday from him; I haven’t opened it yet, afraid of its contents. It’s big and sitting in my doorway. I know I should open it. I think my heart is broken, I think he was the love of my life. You know, the one you never forget the one that’s always there, that others will never compare to. Even though it would be so easy considering he never wooed me.
After the last episode of the Gilmore Girls, I have nothing left to watch. I’ve managed to watch all of the Charmed, Dawson’s Creek (don’t laugh) and True Blood episodes. But the box still sits there and stares at me, goading me to open it. I grab a kitchen knife and walk to it slowly like something may jump out at me if I open it. I slowly run the knife along the tape and pull open the box. When I look into it, its contents confuse me. I pull the first thing out and it doesn’t make any sense. It’s his shirt, one that I’ve slept in many times, and when I smell it, it still smells of him. I rummage through the rest and see it’s all his clothes, ones that I’ve worn, and ones that he has worn that I’ve loved on him. It still doesn’t make any sense.
I tip the box upside down to empty the contents and in the bottom there’s a letter, in his handwriting.
Meet me tonight, 7 pm at your apartment door.
I didn’t open the box when it came so the note confuses me, is he here? Surely he hasn’t been waiting for me? I walk to the front door and am reluctant to open it, not knowing what I’ll find. When I do, he’s there. Sitting on the floor, typing on his phone. He hears the door and looks up; a wave of relief seems to wash over his face. He stands and his black jeans hug him tightly, his black shirt and baseball cap make him look bad, so bad and yet so good.
“Pixie?” he says, looking me up and down and taking a step toward me. I stop him by putting my hand up and walk backward slamming the door in his face. My breathing becomes heavy, and I slide down the door wondering what he’s doing. Why is he here? I even out my breathing and feel the door move, it must be him leaning against it. I stop breathing and try to listen.
“I need you, Bexley,” he says, his voice rough. I don’t respond, I don’t know what to say. I’ve told him it’s over. “Let me stay in love with you, let me help you remain in love with me. I want to be your end, Bexley, you’re last in everything.”
“Please leave,” I manage to say. He doesn’t respond, and I don’t look to see if he’s left. It’s wrong, so wrong to be in love with someone who is so bad, especially when I come from the type of background I come from. I used to put people like him away, for life. Hell, I even tried to do it to him. It’s wrong, it’s wrong to fall for someone so bad, and with no morals. No respect for the law.
I manage to crawl back to the couch and restart the Gilmore Girls. I’ll just go back to the beginning, and think if only life was that easy.
****
Today is the day. I need groceries, food, and drinks other than water. I dress myself this morning, which is something I haven’t done for almost two weeks. I’m wearing long black pants and a black shirt. I guess it matches my mood.
When I open the door to walk out, I didn’t think he would still be there. I thought for sure with no more words spoken last night, he’d be gone. But he isn’t, he’s in the same clothes, sitting in the same position. I contemplate walking back in and shutting the door, but I really need food. I ate my last packet of noodles last night.
I walk past him without looking. He stands, and I know he’s following me. His footsteps echo behind me. I exit the building and am glad the local supermarket isn’t far from where I live. I cross the street hoping he won’t follow, but I’m also fighting the battle of wanting to see him.
He doesn’t disappoint, he follows. I knew he would. Some part
of me wants to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t, not just yet.
I grab a basket and toss in bread and milk first, then junk food, lots of it. As I’m checking out the candy, he steps next to me, and I have no choice but to acknowledge him.
“I’m not a chaser, Bexley,” he says, and it makes me angry. I didn’t ask him to chase me.
“Good, go home,” I say to him.
“I am home. You received my clothes?” he asks. It takes me a moment to understand what he’s just said to me.
“What?” I ask with my mouth hanging open. He reaches over and his fingers run along my jaw before he lifts my jaw up and closes my mouth.
“I’m all yours,” he says like it’s so simple. I ignore him and walk away. I watch as ladies heads turn when he stands behind me in the checkout line. Some not so subtle about it. Some even whistle and I want to laugh at them. But I refrain, and pay for my groceries and walk back the way I came, back to my home.
When I reach my door, I turn to see him there, not even three feet away from me. He watches me but doesn’t say a word. I walk in and leave my door open, I don’t know why, so he walks in after me. He looks at his clothes strewn across the floor and back to me. He doesn’t come in any further.
“You can shower,” I say to him pointing toward the bathroom door. He smiles like he’s just won, but he hasn’t. “Then you leave,” I add the last part. He grabs some clothes and walks to my shower. I listen and hear it start up. Sitting up on a kitchen stool, I open a packet of chocolate just waiting, for what I’m not sure.
When he’s done, I’ve eaten almost half the block, and he comes out without his shirt on. Just a pair of blue jeans that hang low on his waist. I can’t help but look and admire, he is the devil after all.
“Would you accompany me for dinner?” he asks. I shake my head, for more reasons than the one. “Okay,” he says and walks out the door closing it behind him. I sit there just staring at the door, like he’s just played a joke on me. I jump up and swing the door open, and there he is sitting on the ground, where I first found him. He looks up and I walk back in and slam the door shut.