by Amy Miles
His red swollen eyes cast down at the floor beneath him. He raised a hand, scrunching his face as he studied the residue on his palm. Then he gagged and expelled more stomach fluids.
Alexander stepped back and took a quick breath through his mouth, trying not to get sick himself. With a sleeve covering his face, he made his way to the bathroom to retrieve a roll of paper towels and a damp washcloth.
“Come on, take my hand,” he said upon returning. He stretched out a hand, extending it to Bruce.
“I can do it myself,” Bruce snarled. He slipped and fell back repeatedly until he finally gave up and raised his hand to Alexander.
Without a word, he helped Bruce to the bathroom and put him in the tub. He appeared confused until Alexander turned on the cold water and hosed him off with the sprayer, clothes, and all.
Bruce twisted and fought but gave up quickly, too weak to defend himself.
“Here. Dry off and change while I work on cleaning up your room. Fresh clothes are on the hamper.” Alexander left the bathroom with the bottle of mouthwash in tow as a precaution, not sure if it had any alcohol in it.
After changing the sheets, he slipped his cell phone from his pocket and dialed home. It only rang once before Sammy’s cheerful voice answered.
“How’s it going over there?” Sammy asked.
Alexander ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe she’s had to live like this. He’s in bad shape.”
“You shouldn’t be there. What if he finds out—”
“He won’t. How could he possibly figure it out?”
“Still, be careful.”
Alex sighed. “I will. How’s Gabby?”
There was a long defining pause, and his heart pounded faster.
“Oh God. Please…no…I—”
“No, Alex. She’s alive. I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, she’s not herself. She’s so angry and confused. I don’t know how Grace can stand it. I wish I could do more, but Grace says it’s better if she stays with her.”
“I wish I could be with her. I wish…I wish I hadn’t—” His voice broke.
“Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t mean for this to happen.”
A fissure ran through his chest, threatening to break every rib under the pressure of guilt. “I should’ve told her the truth. I should’ve stayed away from her.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Alexander spun around to find Bruce leaning against the door jam.
“I’ve gotta go,” Alexander said into the phone. “Call ya later.” He hit end on his cell before Sammy could respond. “I was talking to my sister.”
Bruce took a step and almost toppled over. Alex steadied him and helped him to the bed.
“Why are you here?” Bruce held his belly and looked up at Alexander with pleading eyes, his head resting against the pillows wedged against the wall at the top of the mattress. “You need to tell me where my daughter is.”
Alexander sighed. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Both, sir. It’s best for both of you.”
“No,” Bruce shook his head. “I’m her father. She needs to be home.”
Alexander squatted down to the worn wood floor and started to clean up the mess. “No offense, but do you really want her to see you like this?”
“She’s…my daughter…I have…a right…” Bruce’s snores filled the room.
Alexander sighed and continued cleaning.
If not for Bruce’s snorts and grunts, the silence in the house would have been deafening. Trying to keep his mind off Gabby, Alexander checked three more times for hidden bottles, cleaned the bedroom and bathroom, and started another load of laundry.
Then he spent the next twenty minutes pacing the floor until he couldn’t take it anymore. He looked in on Bruce one final time, then took off into the air for home. It had been days since he rested in his own bed and ate Grace’s cooking.
He landed on the beach and walked up the front steps. The aroma of fresh bread greeted him.
Grace exited the front door, a package in her hand and eyes set. “What do you think you’re doing? You know you can’t be here. It’ll just aggravate her condition. Of course, I’d knew you’d show, so here’s something to eat.”
“She still hates me, doesn’t she?” Alexander took the small container and sunk onto the white wicker love seat on the front porch.
“She doesn’t hate you, son. If she did, this wouldn’t be so difficult for her.” Grace put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“It’s all my fault. All of it. Why do I hurt everyone I love?”
Grace sat next to him and took his hands in hers. “You need to trust she’ll get through this on her own. I know it’s hard for you, but you have to stay away. You can’t help. Just trust her. She can fight this on her own. She’s a strong girl.”
“She’s been through so much. You wouldn’t believe how she’s been living. That man calls himself her father—”
“Don’t judge, Alexander,” Grace chastised him, her expression stern. “You have no room to judge. None of us do. Help him. Put your talents to use and help him recover.”
Alexander knew she was right, but all he wanted to do was go inside and be with Gabby. Hold her and tell her to fight, to live. Sure, he longed for her forgiveness, but if hating him got her through this then hate him she should.
“I don’t know if he can be saved. He’s so far gone.”
“There’s always a chance. I won’t give up on Gabby and you shouldn’t give up on Bruce. I have to believe we can save them both.”
“I’ll try, but not for him. I’ll do it for Gabby. I know I caused his pain but he shouldn’t have abandoned Gabby because of it.”
“Alexander, you don’t know what he’s been through. You can’t know everything. If you don’t give him a chance, he won’t be able to heal.”
He sighed. “I’ll try. Just make sure you take care of Gabby. If she asks for me, you promise to let me see her?”
“Yes, of course. Just have faith.”
Faith? He hadn’t had any since his fall. He stepped off the porch and took to the air, hearing Grace’s sigh before he reached the tree line.
The house still smelled of alcohol and vomit when he returned, and his shoulders slumped. He wished he could’ve at least seen Gabby. But what did he think would happen? He knew what he’d hoped for, that she would call out for him the moment he stepped onto the porch, begging him to stay by her side.
He sighed and eased the back door shut. Maybe, just maybe, if he could help her father, it would help her forgive him. Entering the kitchen, he tossed the container onto the counter, unable to eat.
Bruce’s screams drew his attention down the hall. He raced through the house and found Bruce in his room. He held a knife out defensively, his eyes wild, staring at the wall.
“I told you to stay away. You won’t get me, too.”
“Bruce, its Alex. Who’re you talking to?”
Bruce turned abruptly, his face covered in sweat. “Oh G-god. I-it can’t be.”
The look of horror on Bruce’s face made Alexander turn and look behind him, even though he knew no one was there.
“It’s okay, Bruce.” Alexander took a step closer and lifted his hand to remove the knife but Bruce shot forward, lunging to stab Alexander. Jumping out of the way, he watched the man fall to the floor then scramble back to his feet. What was going on?
“Y-your wings…they’re beautiful.” Bruce’s face changed to a look of awe as he lowered the knife long enough for Alexander to pry it from his grip. But his admiration didn’t last long. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Bruce accused. “Coming to finish me off? Takin’ my wife wasn’t enough. Now you’ve stolen my daughter and want my life, too?” A vein pulsed on Bruce’s forehead. “You don’t belong here. It’s unnatural,” he slurred then spat on the floor.
Alexander felt the hatred growing stronger in the room, h
eavy and oppressive.
“How can you live here with us?” Bruce rambled on. “You’re not human. You’re pure evil. You might have wings but your eyes…evil. You…”
Bruce continued but Alexander stopped listening, his thoughts confused. How could Bruce see his wings? He went to the mirror, thinking he might have changed into his angel form without even knowing it, but all he saw was a human boy staring back at him.
“What? Bruce said, his words dripping with disdain. “You don’t know how hideous you look? Or are you gloating at your superior strength? Don’t think I can’t kill you. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.”
Alexander continued to look at his reflection. It was probably unnatural to not have a single blemish on his face, no scar, no acne, nothing. It wasn’t a normal teenage face, he knew that, but it wasn’t the face of a fallen angel either.
He glanced back at Bruce, still trying to figure out how the man could see his angel form without him revealing it.
Bruce collapsed onto the bed, his eyes wide. “Do you smell that? It’s lovely. I…it’s her. Am I dying? Goin’ to Heaven? It’s not where I thought I was destined but it’s where she’d be.”
Alexander sat on the corner of the mattress and looked into Bruce’s dazed eyes. “What do you smell?”
“Perfume. Shampoo. Perfection. All of her smells.” Bruce continued to stare off at nothing.
Alexander didn’t smell anything but the stale stench of vomit. Had he missed a hidden bottle of booze somewhere? “Who?”
“Eliana, my beloved. My wife. The most perfect woman ever to walk this Earth.”
Now, Alexander was completely confused. Eliana was dead. He’d seen it with his own eyes. So, how could Bruce smell her?
Forras. It had to be Forras. He hadn’t surfaced since he harmed Gabby. The coward.
Alexander went to the window and scanned the backyard. No sign of him, but he had to be there. What else could it be?
He checked the room for any more weapons and pulled a gun from a drawer. Tucking the gun into his pants, he put the knife back in the kitchen. After checking the inside of the house, and ensuring Bruce was still lost in a daze in his room, he walked around the outside perimeter. He stopped by the tree he used to sit in to listen as Gabby slept.
There was no sign of Forras, only memories everywhere of Gabby.
He went back into the house and did another sweep, but still nothing. Returning to Bruce’s room, he watched the man lying on his side, mumbling to an invisible Eliana on the pillow next to him.
Unable to watch any more, Alexander left. It pulled at his heart to see the man’s grief played out in a delusion. Was it so bad if he let Bruce enjoy being with his wife for a few moments, the wife Alexander had taken from him?
Alexander shuffled his way up the stairs to Gabby’s room. He stood in front of the door contemplating whether to enter, then heard a soft sigh, like a small child waking from a nap.
Who was more crazy? At least Bruce had an excuse. His hallucinations were from alcohol withdrawal while Alexander’s were from Gabby withdrawal.
He pried the door open, finding the room as he’d left it, empty. Not wanting to relive any more moments with Gabby, he focused on his quest to find information on alcoholism and the symptoms of withdrawal. He crossed the room to the laptop on her desk and flipped the lid up. The moment it finished booting up, a small window appeared, requesting a password.
Password? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He tried Eliana, cheerleading, Moore, and many others. Nothing worked. Finally, he typed in Alexander and held his breath while he hit enter. Still not right. After thinking for a moment, he realized most passwords required a number. He decided to try replacing the letter L with the number one and hit enter. It worked.
He was her password, a status equivalent to being number one on her speed dial. When she’d created this password, he still meant something to her.
Once, she’d loved him. Could he dare hope she could love him again?
The internet popped up and he typed alcohol withdrawal symptoms into the search engine. He clicked the first entry listed, the article confirming his suspicions. Severe withdrawal symptoms may include hallucinations, shaking, vomiting, and headache. A person experiencing these symptoms should be monitored by a health care professional. Rise in blood pressure and possibility of stroke may occur.
Great. Taking him to a hospital wasn’t an option. He could keep Bruce from having a stroke, though he’d likely have to reveal himself to heal the man. Which meant he would have to remain in this house day in and day out. Not what he wanted to do, but he knew it was what he needed to do.
He had to be careful, though. These hallucinations scared him. He still couldn’t figure out how Bruce had seen his hidden angel form. Could it just be a memory from that night or was there more to these hallucinations?
“No. Stop! Make it stop!” Bruce called, his voice carrying through the house.
Patronus barked wildly.
Alexander slammed the laptop shut and bolted down the stairs.
Patronus stood on all fours in the doorway as if on alert.
Bruce sat up in bed, covering his ears. “It’s so loud!” he shouted. “My head’s going to explode. Make it stop!”
Alex concentrated on pushing the hallucinations away as he stepped closer. He couldn’t calm him like Grace could, but he could keep the demons away by healing his dreams. He focused on all the calming sounds around them, waves from the ocean, a bird in the air, Gabby’s soft breath—No! He had to stay focused. He strained his ears, picking up the sound of a tree rustling in the wind, and channeled the calm sounds to Bruce.
A moment passed and Bruce released his ears. Relaxing back into the bed, his eyes rolled up into his head as his lids closed.
Alexander sighed. He longed to see Gabby. He grasped his chest, trying to make the pain go away. He couldn’t allow himself to feel despair, not with Bruce in the room. Only happy calming thoughts. It was the only way to keep Bruce from having a stroke and himself from going crazy.
Chapter Fifteen
The sweet lyrical words of Amazing Grace floated up softly from somewhere downstairs. Gabby could picture Grace’s lips pouring out the music. A slanted yellow glow on the wall indicated the beginning, or end of the day.
How long had she been in bed? Her arms strapped down? A dull pain in her neck and back made her think it must’ve been days.
“How long?” she croaked.
“You’re awake?” Sammy’s cheerful voice stirred her hope that the sun was rising, that it was the start of a bright new day. A day she could get out of bed and live again.
“How long have I been strapped to this bed?” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears.
“A little over a week.”
“My father—”
“He’s fine. Alex is with him.”
“Alex? Are you crazy?” Gabby’s anxiety rose up in a flash. “Wh-what? How? W-why?”
“Gabby, relax. Don’t get excited.” Sammy walked over to the doorway. “Grace!” she yelled downstairs. “Grace! Gabby’s awake. I need help.”
The beautiful sound of Amazing Grace stopped abruptly and a moment later, Grace entered the room.
She didn’t want the music to stop. It sounded hopeful, and loving, and everything she longed to feel right now. A sense of her mother’s warm touch caressed her skin. “Don’t stop. Please.”
“Don’t stop what, dear?” Grace’s hand grazed her cheek then a damp washcloth was laid across her forehead.
“The song. Don’t stop singing, please.”
The music started again, this time filling the room and her heart. Gabby listened, concentrating on the sound of Grace’s voice, trying not to think about her father, Alexander, and the mess her life had become. Slowly, her anxiety withered away, back to the deep crevice inside where it came from.
As the song ended, the yellow glow on the wall faded.
No. It wasn’t a new day. It was the same b
lack dismal dusk, just like the past several she’d awoken to, followed by nights full of terror, fear, and loneliness.
“Grace, I don’t want to do this anymore. Please, just let me die.” Gabby’s chest constricted painfully with despair.
“Shush, child. Calm yourself. You’re through the worst. It will get better now. The anger has passed, most of it. Now, you will face fear, loneliness, and depression. At least, that’s how it happened last time.”
“Is the worst of it really over?” Sammy whispered.
“Shh, go get some fresh water. I’ll take the next watch.”
“What happened last time?” Gabby mumbled.
Grace didn’t answer.
“Tell me,” Gabby rasped.
Grace dabbed at Gabby’s forehead. “She didn’t make it honey. She’s in hell, but you’re strong.”
Footsteps sounded and the door closed behind a blurry figure, but her eyes couldn’t focus. Her body still itched, as if a million flesh-eating beetles were feasting on her insides. She glanced down at her arm. At least the boiling in her skin had stopped, but she swore it looked ashen.
What did her face look like? Would she turn into a hideous creature like Forras?
“I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t want to be evil.”
“You won’t,” Grace said soothingly. “You’ll beat this.”
“How do you know?” Gabby shifted, trying to stretch her body.
“Because you were meant for great things. Be comforted. You’re not alone.”
“You’re wrong. I’m always alone,” she whispered. Yes, she had Grace and Sammy caring for her, but her mother was gone. Her father, in his grief, had turned to alcohol, and Alexander had lied and betrayed her.
“Grace, how…how could he have done that? Why did Alex kill my mother? And then…” Gabby choked on the words, not sure she wanted an answer. It didn’t matter what his reasons were, she didn’t love him. Maybe she had at one point, but not anymore. The thought of betraying someone she loved and cared for like that was unimaginable. It disgusted her.
“It wasn’t him,” a familiar voice spoke.
“Mother?” Gabby looked around for where the voice came from. A voice she’d never forgotten, but only saw Grace looking down at her quizzically? Was she hallucinating again? Was it Grace speaking, but in a softer, higher tone? If so, this was a welcome mirage, unlike the others she was forced to endure over the past several days.