Let Me Save You

by Samantha Wolfe

  "Is Jensen here?" she said uncomfortably. She was dressed in a tight red tank and jeans. Her cleavage was expansive and very visible. Her long straight blond hair fell down her back, gleaming in the sunlight. I hated her even more today. Her dark-brown eyes looked worried as she looked behind me, and I wondered why.

  "Uh, no," I answered, my voice coming out bitchier than I intended.

  "You're Sydney, right?" she asked me. How the fuck did she know my name?

  "Yes," I answered tersely. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Delaney. He didn't tell you about me, did he?" she said apologetically, her eyes meeting mine again.

  "Why exactly are you here, Delaney?" I asked even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know anymore.

  "I need to talk to you," she explained. "You need to know the truth."

  "The truth about what?" I asked as a sudden sick feeling filled my stomach. I felt my heart rate increase with dread.

  "I tried to warn you."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked as anger coursed through me. I just wanted her to get to the point.

  "Those text messages I sent you. Didn't you get any of them?" she asked with concern. "I didn't tell you who I was because I didn't want you to tell him they were from me. That's why they were so vague. You didn't ask him about it, did you? I thought if you confronted him, he'd tell you the truth."

  "The truth about what?" I asked with annoyance. This woman was infuriatingly avoiding the real reason she was here.

  "We used to date a while back," she confessed. "We ran into each other last Friday at a Mexican restaurant. He was with Andy and some red-haired woman. He was pretty drunk, and we ended up hooking up in the bathroom. I'm not sure if he remembers doing it, and I don't think his friends even know it happened."

  My heart felt like it stopped in my chest. The sick feeling inside me turned into deep pain and confusion. With a jolt, I remembered Lydia telling me how drunk Jensen was last Friday. Everything this Delaney said seemed to ring with truth.

  "I work downtown with the attorney that handles his company's contracts," she continued. "When he came in on Monday morning, he was pretty pissed to see me again. I guess he had a guilty conscience or something. He accidentally left his phone in our office, and I got your number from it when I realized I was the other woman. I threatened to tell you what happened if he didn't tell you himself. He was livid and threatened me, so I backed down. I texted you, hoping you'd figure it out on your own."

  "I...I didn't," I stammered, feeling like the floor was collapsing under me. I thought I might actually throw up as my stomach heaved. She continued talking, shattering my entire world with every word she spoke.

  "He had to come back to my work to sign some more papers, and I tried to talk him into telling you again, but he just denied anything had even happened. I didn't know what to do, so I went to his work on Thursday to try one more time. He grabbed my arms and shoved me against the door in his office and threatened me again." She paused to show me the finger shaped bruising on her upper arms. "See? He's a dangerous man, and I was afraid of what he'd do to me, so I got the hell out of there."

  I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Lauren was right. Did I even know this man that I was sleeping with at all? Was this all a lie? I'd only known him for a few weeks. I felt like a fool, just like I did with Clay, all over again.

  "I saw you with him last night and went to follow you to the bathroom to tell you everything, but he caught me before I could get to you. I came here hoping to find you and warn you not to trust Jensen or anything he tells you."

  "I...I have to go." I turned abruptly and fled back into the house. Delaney followed behind me, still talking, but I didn't hear anything else she had to say. My mind was numb as I ran upstairs, leaving her standing in the living room, and threw all my belongings back into my bag. I needed to get the fuck out of here, right now. I hurried back down the stairs and passed Delaney again, not even able to look at her. I retrieved my purse from the coffee table and turned to leave.

  "I'm sorry," she stated from behind me.

  "So am I," I sobbed and walked out without looking back, wondering how I let this happen to me again. Each step destroyed a part of me, and I knew I would never be the same. I held it together until I got to my car, and then lost it completely. I started the car and drove away, sobbing all the way to David's house, knowing it was the only place Jensen wouldn't be able to find me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jensen

  Sydney's car was inexplicably gone when I got home. I pulled my truck to a stop next to the spot it had been parked in when I left, and stared at the empty space for a few seconds. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called her number, but it went straight to voice mail. I ended the call and sat there in confusion. Where could she have gone? Why would she just leave without telling me? A sudden dread filled me. Something was very wrong.

  I grabbed the shopping bag and the bouquet of pink daisies off the passenger seat, and climbed down out of the vehicle. I walked to the front door and discovered that it wasn't even locked. It was eerily quiet as I headed up the stairs and walked into the kitchen. A bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels were sitting on the floor where Sydney had left them. I put the eggs in the refrigerator and laid the flowers on the counter.

  "Sydney?" I called out, thinking maybe her car had been stolen or something. Silence was my only answer. I looked at the counter and the table for a note or any fucking clue at all. There was nothing. I wandered down the hall toward the living room, running a hand through my hair and feeling the first stirrings of panic creeping up on me. I stepped into the living room and jolted to a stop.

  "Hi," Delaney said from where she was sitting on my couch, a smug smile on her face.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?" I snarled at her.

  "You just missed Sydney," she continued in a sweet tone. "I wouldn't wait around though. I don't think she'll be back anytime soon."

  "What the fuck have you done?" I asked, my panicked heart rate spiking.

  "I told her we fucked in a restaurant bathroom last weekend." She stood and moved toward me, her eyes filled with amusement. "She seemed pretty devastated about it. She must have thought you really cared about her."

  I met her halfway across the room before I even realized I was moving, a red haze of rage exploding inside me. My hand wrapped around her throat, and she gasped as I pushed her backwards until she hit the wall. She exhaled with a grunt from the impact, her eyes filling with fear. Her fingers clawed at my hand, but I didn't give a fuck.

  "Why?" I snarled as I struggled against the urge to strangle the life out of her. "Tell me why, you stupid fucking cunt."

  "Why not?" she asked, her face turning smug again.

  "This isn't a fucking game, Delaney," I growled out in disbelief.

  "Isn't it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and one side of her lip curling up. "It was just a game when you fucked with me the other night. Now it's your turn to feel like a fool. Payback is a bitch, isn't it?"

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shook my head, my voice becoming a whisper as I fully realized the scope of what she had just done to me. "You've ruined my life again. You've destroyed everything."

  Her eyes suddenly blazed with triumph, and my rage ignited. I pulled my right arm back, relishing the sudden terror on her face, and slammed my fist through the drywall next to her head. I stepped backward, releasing my hold on her, and she slumped against the wall, staring at me with fear.

  "Get the fuck out of my house!" I screamed at her. When she didn't move I stepped toward her again. "Get the fuck out now, or I swear to God; I won't be responsible for what I do to you."

  "You won't touch me," she snarled. "I'll have you arrested for assault."

  "You've taken everything from me," I snarled back. "Do you really think I give a fuck what happens to me now?" I stared at her, watching as realization flooded her eyes. She could see what I was capable of now, knew I'd beat her down
and feel nothing. She could see all that in my eyes, and she looked away first. "Get out now," I growled between clenched teeth.

  She scurried out of the room. I watched her leave, hoping to God that I'd never see her again. I heard the front door slam shut, and I bellowed out my rage, putting my fist through the wall once more, not caring about the pain that bloomed across my knuckles. I began pacing around the room as my anger cooled and panic started taking its place. I stopped moving and focused on my breathing, trying to slow it down. I had to get a grip. I had to do something. I pulled my phone out again and called Sydney. It went straight to voice mail after one ring, and I waited for the tone before speaking.

  "Sydney. It's me." I sounded desperate, my voice breaking with emotion. "Please come home. Whatever Delaney told you was a lie. You have to believe me. I love you. I'd never cheat on you. Please call me back. Please." I ended the call before I could start sobbing incoherently. I put my phone back in my pocket and grabbed my hair in my hands, pulling at it in my frustration. I had to go find her; that's what I had to do. If I could find her and make her listen to me, then I could fix this. I had to fix this.

  I rushed back out to my truck. I drove like a bat out of hell all the way to her apartment. My desperate panic was a palpable thing inside me, eating away at my insides, making me feel nauseous. If she wasn't there, I didn't know what I'd do. I took the stairs after entering the building, too impatient to wait for the elevator. I came out of the stairwell on the fifth floor and practically ran down the hall to her door. I knocked on it several times and paused. No one answered. I pounded on the door, calling her name and still nothing. Maybe she was just refusing to answer the door, thinking it was me. I went over to the window at the end of the hall and looked down into the parking lot. I didn't see her car anywhere. I had no idea where else to look for her. I got my phone out again, planning on leaving another groveling message, when I noticed David's number in my contact list. Oh, thank God. Maybe she was with him. David picked up after several rings.

  "Please tell me you didn't fuck this up," he said as a greeting.

  "I didn't," I replied tersely. "Is she there?"

  "Yes, but she doesn't want to talk to you," he said, sounding annoyed. "If she knew I was talking to you; she'd be pissed. I'm hiding in my own damn bathroom talking to you."

  "Just put her on, please," I begged unashamedly. "Let me make this right." I could hear David sigh deeply. There was a long moment of silence.

  "Hold on," he finally said. A few moments later, I could hear voices arguing, but I couldn't make out the words. The line went quiet again, and I was starting to think David had hung up on me when Sydney's voice finally came across the line.

  "I have nothing to say to you," she announced sternly. I sighed audibly with relief as I heard her voice.

  "Then just listen, baby," I told her, my voice coming out low and hoarse. "Everything Delaney told you was a lie. Nothing happened. I swear."

  "Did you run into her at a restaurant Friday night?" she asked angrily. "Did you offer to hook up with her in the bathroom?"

  "Yes, I did, but..."

  "She also said you were drunk off your ass that night. Is that true?" she asked me.

  "Sydney..." I was losing control of this conversation. Panic came over me.

  "Answer me, goddamn it," she interjected.

  "Yes," I whispered, feeling a hopelessness I had never felt before.

  "Did you see her three different times this week and not tell me about it at all?"

  "Yes," I answered again.

  "You looked right at me last night and told me she was just some drunk bitch fucking with you. Were you ever planning on telling me about her?" Her voice cut into me like sharp blades. Tears started spilling down my face, and I wiped at them with my free hand.

  "No," I confessed quietly.

  "Then you're a fucking liar!" she screamed at me. After that there was a long pause, and I didn't know what to say. She was right. "I can't do this anymore," she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

  "Baby, please don't say that," I pleaded. "I need you. I love you."

  "I can't ever trust you again," she said after another pause, her voice broken and filled with heart-wrenching pain. "I don't even know if you really loved me at all."

  My chest suddenly felt like it had been struck as a pang of hurt and regret hit me hard. This was what I knew was going to happen all along. I was too fucked-up to be good enough for anyone, let alone Sydney. I'd broken her heart again, and I deserved to suffer for it. No one should love me. I destroyed everything I touched. She was better off without me. I couldn't speak at all now. There was a long moment of silence on the line before Sydney finally spoke again.

  "Good-bye, Jensen," she whispered and the line went dead.

  I don't know how long I sat on the floor in the hall of Sydney's apartment building feeling lost and filled with hopeless despair. A woman's voice pulled me out of my mindless staring.

  "Honey?" the voice asked. "Are you okay?"

  I glanced up to see an old woman with a concerned face looking down at me. Her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She had kind eyes, and she looked like someone's grandmother.

  "I'm fine," I mumbled as I rose abruptly to my feet. I felt a sudden wave of vertigo, and the woman gripped my forearm to help steady me as I swayed on my feet.

  "Are you sure you're alright, honey?" she asked again as she peered up at me with a worried expression.

  "I'm sure," I answered her, avoiding her sympathetic eyes. I walked away, needing to get far from this place and all the memories that I had made here with Sydney. I took the elevator down, staring blankly at the doors until they opened in the lobby. I mindlessly wandered out to my truck, feeling dead inside. I made it to the parking lot, climbed into the cab, and just sat there, unable to move again for several minutes.

  I finally shook myself out of it, started the vehicle, and pulled out of the lot. I had every intention of going straight home, but somehow I ended up at the liquor store near my condo. I parked in front of the store wondering how I had even gotten here. I guess an inner part of my consciousness knew I needed something to escape all this pain. I went in and grabbed four bottles of vodka and carried them to the checkout counter. The young guy who rang me up kept looking at me oddly. I guess I looked as bad as I felt. He thanked me, but I just turned and walked out, having never said a word to the guy.

  When I got home, I sat in the driveway for a while, afraid to confront all the memories of her that filled my home now. Home. What a joke. It would never feel like home here again. Pain squeezed my chest once more, and I couldn't breath. I needed a fucking drink. I forced myself out of the truck and hurried into the condo, eager for the oblivion that vodka could bring me. I carried all four bottles into the living room, setting three of them on the coffee table and slumping down on the couch with the fourth. I untwisted the cap and took a long pull of vodka. The harsh liquid burned down into my stomach, and I grimaced as I lowered the bottle.

  Before I knew it, half the bottle was gone, and I was starting to feel the pain fade as the buzz of the alcohol burned it away. I sighed with relief and took another swallow, wanting to drink until I passed out and didn't have to feel anything. If I drank enough, maybe I wouldn't wake up again at all. I drank and drank, and it didn't take long until I passed out and fell into peaceful oblivion.

  When I finally woke up again, I felt disappointment and then sudden rage. I sat up, grabbed an empty vodka bottle, and flung it at the television as hard as I could. The glass of the plasma screen shattered with a satisfying sound as splinters of glass flew everywhere. The destruction set me into a flurry of motion, and I lost it completely. I stood and staggered around the room destroying everything within reach. Then I climbed the stairs looking for something else to annihilate. I entered my spare bedroom and pulled my white Fender guitar off its stand and smashed it into my computer repeatedly, screaming incoherently.

  When the neck of t
he guitar finally snapped, I threw it aside and grabbed the old beat-up acoustic guitar next to it. I was just about to slam it against the wall when something on the body caught my eye. I stopped abruptly and stared at the letter 'J' carved deep into the wood, and my breath shuddered out of me. I had a sudden vivid image of my brother Jordan leaning over this guitar as he had carved that into the wood years ago with his pocket knife, his eyes intense and focused. My brother's guitar started to shake in my hands as deep loss and devastation hit me like a fucking boulder, dropping me to my knees.

  I clutched the guitar as long painful sobs wracked my body. I don't think I had ever wept for Jordan like this before. An unbidden image of his dead lifeless eyes suddenly flashed through my mind, and my breathing became fast and coarse. Fuck, I was having another panic attack, and I couldn't stop it. I don't know why I even tried to anymore. My chest constricted with pain as my heart accelerated out of control, my stomach clenching inside me.

  "No, no, no, no..." I stammered as I curled onto my side, the guitar forgotten next to me. I fisted handfuls of my hair and ripped at it in desperation. Horrifying images of crumpled metal, broken tree branches, and blood, so much fucking blood, flashed inside my head like strobe lights. I screamed over and over again. I thought I was dying, and I welcomed it. I just wanted to end this pain, this fucking nightmare that I was trapped in.

  The images warped and changed into my father's lifeless body lying in a hospital bed, dead from the massive heart attack the stress of losing his oldest son had caused. I saw my mother hunched over him, weeping with loss, the pain wracking her small frame. Annie and her kids huddled together, lost and alone, without a father and a husband, staring at me with accusation. Sydney standing there looking at me with pain and betrayal in her eyes, and screaming that I was a fucking liar. Everything, all of it, was my fault. I had destroyed everything I cared about with my fucked-up head and my fucked-up life. I had nothing left and now I was nothing, just an empty broken shell that used to be a man.