Possessive

by Willow Winters

  He hurt me beyond recognition.

  I should tell him how I couldn’t move for days on end. But the bastard knows that already.

  I truly loved him, but a lie from years ago makes me question everything. He could have helped me heal. He could have shouldered the burden of my pain and I would have done the same for him. But just like when Tyler was alive, he was silent. He gave me nothing.

  I’m surprised by the hurt that ripples through me when I see it’s Rae and not Daniel.

  It’s a shocking feeling. And it takes me a moment to realize what I really want. I want him to beg me to forgive him. I want him to know my pain.

  I let the idea resonate with me as I ignore Rae and click over to Daniel’s texts. Six of them in a row.

  I’m sorry.

  I was wrong.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  If I wasn’t with you and watching you it was too much for me to take.

  I wish you would understand.

  I would never hurt you. I never will.

  I read his texts and the anger boils as I text back. You’ll never know how much it hurt to go through that alone. And you made it worse for me. You sat in silence while I was in pain. How could you ever think I’d forgive you?

  I realize I’m more disturbed that he didn’t try to help me than the fact that he stalked me. I guess that’s not so different from what he did when I was with Tyler.

  I press send without thinking twice. And then I click over to Rae, who wants to know how it’s going. Fucking priceless, I think bitterly.

  I roll my eyes, letting a shudder run through my body and tears roll down my cheeks. Instead of answering her, I move to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

  I still haven’t unpacked my wine glasses and I know it’s because part of me was already envisioning leaving with Daniel. I knew he wasn’t staying long and I’d go anywhere with him. I would have done anything he wanted to be by his side.

  My phone pings again as I bend down and grab a bottle of merlot by the neck from the bottom shelf of my wine rack. I pretend I’m going to let the phone sit there, but I’m too eager to see what he has to say. I’m a slave to his response.

  He writes back, Because I was in pain too. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t to hurt you. It was only to distract me from the guilt I felt.

  Pain and guilt and agony and death make people do awful things. But it’s no excuse.

  I write back instantly, You used me.

  I did.

  I hate you for it. I stare at the text message and with the pain in my heart, I already know it’s not hate. It just hurts so much that he watched and did nothing.

  Can you love me and hate me at the same time?

  I’ll never forgive you.

  He types some and then the bubbles that indicate he’s writing stop. And then they continue, but suddenly stop again. All the while I grip my phone tightly.

  Instead of waiting, I write more. My hands shake and the anger in me confuses itself for sorrow.

  I needed someone and I had no one. I wanted you, you had to know. I blamed myself for everything when there was no reason to think otherwise. You could have helped me, but you only watched. You made my pain so much worse than it needed to be.

  I send it to him and although it’s marked as read, nothing comes. Minutes pass and the ticking of the clock serves as a constant reminder of every second going by with nothing to fill the gaping hole in my heart.

  The moment I set the phone down on the counter and reach for the corkscrew, the phone beeps. I have to read it twice and then reread the message I’d sent him before the sob escapes me.

  That’s the way I felt every time you kissed him.

  My shoulders shake so hard that I fall to the ground, my phone falling as well, although the screen doesn’t shatter. I cover my face as I cry, hating myself even more and not knowing how to make anything better.

  My phone pings again, but I can’t answer it for the longest time. Even though it feels pathetic, I cry so hard it hurts every piece of my heart. The piece I gave Tyler when I gave myself to him. The piece I thought I’d left behind when I walked away from him. The piece that left me when he was laid to rest, and the piece I gave Daniel. There are many pieces. Pieces from years ago, from only days ago and the very big piece he just took.

  I want him back instantly. I want him to hold me. There’s a part of me that knows it’s weak and pathetic to feel this desperate need for someone else. But deep inside I know I’d live my life happily being weak and pathetic for him. Isn’t he weak for me just the same?

  Sniffling and wiping at my face, I somehow get up, bracing myself against the counter and reaching for the faucet. My face is hot and I can still hardly breathe.

  I don’t think you ever get over the death of someone who’s taken up space in your soul. It isn’t possible. There are only moments when you remember that you’re a pale imitation of what you could be if they were still with you. And those moments hurt more than anything else in this world.

  As I turn off the faucet, I swear I hear something behind me and I whip around, a chill flowing over my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  It takes every ounce of strength in me to lower myself to the ground, although my eyes stay on the skinny hallway where the noise came from.

  It’s silent as I pick up the phone, barely breathing, and quickly message Daniel. Are you here now?

  It was a long time ago. I promise you. I wasn’t well. I’m sorry.

  I stare at his answer, feeling a chill flow over my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.

  So it’s not you? I will myself to keep my eyes on the hallway, my back to the counter as I type. I can barely breathe.

  Someone there?

  I don’t answer him and a series of texts come through. Ping. Ping. Ping. Each another sound that echoes down the hall.

  Without looking at the messages I text, I’m fine.

  His answer comes through before I look back to the hall. I’m coming over.

  At his response I push forward, forcing myself to walk down the hall and to the loft bedroom. There’s only one door and I push it open, telling myself it’s nothing as the phone pings in my hand again.

  It pings again as I take in the bedroom, cautiously stepping forward until I see a picture has fallen from the collage on the far side of the room.

  My phone pings a third time and I can finally breathe. It’s only a photo that’s fallen.

  I read his latest text and roll my eyes. Answer me.

  My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as the phone rings and I drop it on the floor. It takes the entire time it’s ringing for me to catch my breath and when I do I pick up the phone to text him. It was only a picture falling.

  I’m on my way.

  Don’t come here, I text back while I’m still on the floor and I hope he can feel the anger that’s still there. I add, I don’t want you here.

  It hurts me to tell him that. Partly because it’s a lie. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I can already see myself forgiving him.

  Addison please. Don’t shut me out.

  It took us long enough to admit what we needed.

  I miss you. I need you.

  If you’re scared I need to be there.

  With the fear and regret and everything else that’s tortured me today, I just want to give in to him after reading his rapid-fire texts. But I won’t.

  I just need sleep, I reply and then add, Don’t come.

  Please forgive me, he finally texts and I can’t respond right now, so I shut the phone off and fall onto the bed. I don’t know how long I stare at the wall or at what point I decide I have enough energy to clean up the fallen picture, but I know it’s longer than I’d like.

  The command tape is stuck to the wall this time. I swear I’ll never use it again.

  Just like I’ll never let myself give in to Daniel again.

  Some people you’re meant to miss.

  They’re just no
good for you.

  I think the words, but I don’t know if I really feel them.

  With that thought in mind I move to where the picture frame lays facedown on the ground and lift it carefully. Luckily there’s no broken glass.

  I almost feel okay as I turn it over to inspect the frame.

  But then I see the picture that fell. One I took myself, five years ago.

  A still life of Tyler’s rusty old truck.

  And that’s when I lose it all over again. I’m forced to come to terms with the fact that some wounds never heal. And they aren’t meant to be forgotten.

  Chapter 24

  Daniel

  * * *

  The phone rings and rings as I throw a zipped up bag into the corner with the rest of the luggage. I’ve packed light for years, but it’s never bothered me before.

  Looking at the small pile that comprises everything I own, I’ve never felt so worthless. Or so tired. I didn’t sleep at all.

  The phone goes silent and instead of calling Addison again, I scroll to Carter’s number and call him. I could easily text him to let him know I’m on my way, but I don’t want to. I want him to hear the defeat in my voice. And I need to talk to someone. Someone real. I’m losing everything, slowly feeling it drain from me.

  I need someone. Desperately. I stayed awake outside Addison’s apartment all night. I had to make sure she was okay. But time doesn’t wait, and I had to pack … and now I have to leave.

  It only rings twice before he picks up, greeting me with my name although it comes out as a question. And I know why he’d be confused to see I’m calling him.

  I don’t call anyone ever. I don’t care to talk to him or any of my brothers, and they’re the only ones alive I love. My brothers and Addison.

  “Do you miss him?” I ask Carter without prefacing my question. “Not like Mom and Dad, where we knew it was coming and it made sense.” Carter tries to talk on the other end of the line, but I keep going, pinching the bridge of my nose and sitting on the end of the bed. It protests with my weight. “The kind of missing someone where it feels better to pretend they’re coming back? The kind of missing where you talk to them like they can hear you and it makes you feel better?” I know why I don’t go home. It’s because he’s there in my head. I know what home is, and he’s there. I refuse to accept otherwise. I can’t.

  I tell him I’m sorry every time I’m reminded of him. I hate going south, too many old trucks. I could never tell the difference, but they were Tyler’s thing. He was an old soul like that.

  “Every day,” Carter says as I sit there quietly.

  “I did something,” I start to confess to Carter but stop myself. I’m too ashamed, so I settle on something else. “I ran into Addison.” Her name leaves me in a rush, taking all the air in my lungs with it.

  “Tyler’s Addison? That’s what brought this up?” he questions me and I nod my head like an ass, as if he can see.

  “Yeah,” I almost repeat, Tyler’s Addison. But she never belonged to him. As much as I love him, she was always mine. Maybe he was meant to be her first, but I’ll be her last. My throat tightens and my heart hammers in my chest. She’s not his anymore. She’s mine. And telling Carter feels like a betrayal of the worst kind. It feels like I’m telling Tyler. And as much as I thought it would be easy to admit it, I don’t want them to hate me. They have to understand.

  “And?” Carter presses and I’m not sure where to begin.

  “When I left … after Tyler died five years ago … when I left you and the family, I followed her.” The words spill from me. “Watching her cry made me feel normal. She gave me hope that I wasn’t broken, because she felt the same way. But she stopped crying, Carter. She moved on without me.”

  “Daniel,” Carter warns and I hate him for it.

  “You’ll listen to me,” I seethe with barely concealed anger. He will listen and accept it. There are no other options. I can’t have it end any other way. “I have no one.”

  “You chose no one. You left us.”

  “You know why.” They gave Tyler’s phone to Carter after the dust settled. Carter saw. He never spoke it out loud. But I was there and I know he saw that I was the one texting him.

  I’m the one who led Tyler to his death.

  “You didn’t have to go.” His voice is sincere, but soft and full of sympathy.

  “Well I’m coming back now,” I tell him.

  “Does she know?” he asks me and I answer him with, “I shouldn’t have told her.”

  “She knows you followed her? Is she going to press charges?” he asks and I huff a humorless laugh and then stare at the ceiling fan that’s perfectly still.

  “I don’t think so,” I say and it’s only then that question becomes a possibility. I’ve only been thinking about what I can do to make her forgive me.

  “She has to forgive me,” I tell him with words stronger than I feel.

  “She doesn’t have to do anything,” Carter answers me and the silence stretches as my disdain for him grows.

  “What did she say?” he asks me just as I’m ready to hang up.

  “That she hates me.” It doesn’t hurt me to say the words today like they hurt me yesterday. There’s hope, only a small piece, but it’s there. “She didn’t mean it,” I tell him.

  “Did you do anything else?” Carter asks me with a tone that’s cautious, like he already knows.

  “I’ve done lots of things, brother.”

  “With her. With Addison.” My gaze wanders to my shoes by the bed and I bend down to put them on and lace them while I tell him, “I tried to stay away from her, but she sought me out … before she knew.”

  “Did she fuck you?” he asks me and it strikes me as if he’s said it backward.

  “I fucked her, yes.” The irritation gives me strength and I stare at the pile of shit next to the door that I’ll take with me back home and nearly leave it behind. It’s all meaningless.

  “Is she …” Carter hesitates to ask.

  “She’s mine.” The words leave me quickly, whipping out as if they’re meant to lash him, hating how he questions it. She’s always been mine.

  I almost tell him that she’ll forgive me, but the doubt in me stops the words on the tip of my tongue.

  “I’m coming home. I’ve been running away for a long time.”

  “If you bring her, tell me so I can tell the others.”

  “Why tell them?” Although I don’t give a shit what they think, I know Addison will.

  “She was like a sister to us, Daniel. She didn’t just leave Tyler, she left all of us.”

  She didn’t just leave us once. She left us twice.

  When I heard her break up with Tyler in the kitchen, I could hear every word. I stood by the window, watching her leave.

  I can’t let her leave a third time. I can’t let her go.

  Before I can stop myself, I speak into the phone, “I’ll let you know.”

  Staring at the closed door to this rented house, I can see Addison so clearly all those years ago. Driving away and I never bothered to stop her or tell her how she wasn’t allowed to leave.

  She could never leave.

  She was meant to be there.

  Not with Tyler, but with me.

  Maybe if I had bothered to tell either of them that, Tyler would still be here and none of this would have happened.

  Chapter 25

  Addison

  * * *

  This coldness won’t go away.

  It follows me everywhere. Even burying myself under the blankets doesn’t take the chill away.

  I can’t sleep. I can only wait for updates from Daniel. He texted me all night. He’s really leaving.

  It all feels so final and I have no time to process anything. There’s a heaviness in my chest and a soreness in my lungs that I’m so painfully aware of. They won’t leave me alone.

  Another message, another plea from him.

  * * *

  Please meet me, he b
egs. I can’t lose you again.

  Looking at his message stirs up so much emotion. I don’t want to lose him. That’s the worst part of all of this. It’s the fact that I don’t want to be alone and without him again.

  But how can you forgive someone for watching you suffer when they knew they could save you?

  I’ll wait outside. I’m on my way and I’ll wait for you, but I can’t wait long. Please Addison.

  The seconds tick by as I stare at his message.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  It’s early in the morning; the sun is still rising. A new day.

  I can tell him goodbye. Just one last kiss. A kiss for the love we had. The love we shared for another too. A final goodbye that I should have had years ago.

  I can pretend that’s what this will be, but I already feel myself clinging to him.

  Some people you’re meant to say goodbye to, and others you aren’t.

  I don’t text him back. Instead I head to the bathroom. I look exactly how I feel, which is fucking awful. I half question getting myself somewhat put together to see him.

  But I don’t want him to remember me like this if it really is the last time I’ll see him.

  I take a few minutes, each one seeming longer and longer even though hardly any time has passed. And when I look up, I see a pretty version of me, with mascara and concealer to hide the exhaustion. I can’t hide the pain though.

  I’ll try to let him go and move on.

  Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Isn’t it? It’s what a sane, strong woman would do.

  The zipper seems so loud as I close the makeup bag, as does the click of the light switch. There’s hardly any light from the early morning sunrise as I make my way out and down the stairs to the side entrance of the apartment.

  Each step feels heavier than the last and my heart won’t stop breaking.

  It’s a slow break, straight down the center. My heart hates me, but yet again, it’s something that seems so fitting.

  There’s a large window on the side entrance door and I’m staring out of it, looking for Daniel’s car when I push it open. He isn’t here yet. Not that I can see.