“My mom has asked me so many times to stop drinking. I’d snap at her and walk out of the house, cutting my visit short. I’d get so pissed that I wouldn’t realize what it did to her to see stories about me being way too drunk and in rehab.”
“She didn’t want you to fall into the same pattern.” He nods. “I leave in three weeks.”
“You asked Sam?”
“Yeah.” I stare off.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t want to go out into a world where he’s still roaming.”
“If I could find him and kill him, I would.”
I shake my head. “That’s not how it works.”
“You think he even remembers?” Tyler whispers loud enough for me to hear him.
“How do you forget?”
He leans forward, placing his forearms on the table and pushing his plate forward. “When I was younger and my dad would come to after a drunken night, he wouldn’t remember half the shit he did. Then, he would see my bruised mom and sometimes apologize. Other times, I think he could give a rat’s ass.”
“I don’t care if he remembers or not. I do.”
“I know, Red.” His hand inches forward and then stops.
“I’ll need a job.” I’m pensive.
“What if I can get you one at the label?”
“You’ve done enough to help me these last few weeks.”
“You can count on me, you know? Even when we’re no longer stuck in here.”
“You have a life waiting for you.”
“So do you. That doesn’t mean we can’t be a part of each other’s lives.”
It takes me being locked in a recovery center to feel like I am living a normal life. It takes a suicide attempt and this place for me to make a friend. Because of that, the world outside of this new normal is scary. I have a support system here, even though as I denied it for a long time. Now that I’m finally comfortable and making progress I need to leave.
“I feel safe here,” I whisper.
“I know you do, but you’ll be safe out of here as well. It’s all about your emotions.”
“Have you been paying more attention in therapy?” He chuckles. He looks younger when he laughs.
“I guess I have.” I flinch a little when his hand touches mine, but he brushes it off. “I meant what I said; I’ll be there for you.” His face is serious, and his hand is warm.
“Thank you.” He smiles victoriously and stands, clearing the table.
“Now, let’s listen to some music.” I follow him out of the cafeteria, and we sit in the lounge room as he plays his guitar.
I have been paying attention to the calendar lately. A week has flown by, but I can say that I am making more progress with Sam. We have focused on the methods I have been using to work with triggers and my post traumatic stress disorder. My anger has dissipated a little bit, and I am actually able to meditate sometimes.
“Mikayla.” Sam pauses for me to look at her. “I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but you are welcome to stay with me, as well, once you leave. I know Tyler offered, but if you’re unsure about staying alone in a strange house while he’s touring, you’re welcome at mine. I want you to know that you have support, regardless of where you sleep at night. You’re not alone anymore.”
“Thank you.” I smile softly and leave the office.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?” I find Tyler in the gym.
“I was wondering if we could work on my training when you’re done.”
“Sure. Give me a few.”
“I’ll go change.”
Tyler has helped me a lot with techniques in self-defense, but I think I’m ready to put that into practice. I can’t let my fear of triggers stop me from learning how to fight someone off.
“Right on time,” Tyler says when I reenter the gym. He stretches his hamstrings by the water fountain.
“I was thinking that today, I could actually practice what I would do if someone were to attack me.” He furrows his eyebrows.
“Are you sure? You were jumpy last time I brought it up.” I nod confidently. “If you need to stop, tell me. Okay?”
“I will.”
“Warm up and we’ll begin.”
We set up by a small area that has a mat and Tyler reminds me of the basics—eye gouging, punch in the gut, palm strike to the nose, and of course kick him in the balls.
Tyler approaches me and places his hands on my hips forcefully pulling me. I freeze for a second, but after a deep breath I do what I need to do. I lock his head with my forearms and knee him in the stomach.
“Good, Red. What do you do after?”
Keeping my arms around his head, I twist so I’m behind him and tighten my hold to choke him. He taps my forearm and I release him. He smiles proudly. We continue this way for a while, using different types of attacks, from the front, the back, and the side. I remember all he taught me, and use my strength and power to fight him off.
I spend some time hitting the punching bag, making sure my position is correct. It feels good being able to hit something and release anger in a healthy way. Tyler is on to something with the punching bag trick.
“I’m proud of you, Red.”
“Thanks.”
“Not only did you use each technique correctly, but you didn’t allow the fear to hold you back.”
“Still working on it.” I look down at my sneakers.
“Well, you’re doing damn well at working on it.” He lifts my chin so I can see him. This is all new to me, but it feels nice to look into his eyes.
Fuck. What is it about this girl that’s got me all twisted? I’m soft around her, making sure she’s feeling okay and helping her any way I can. Making promises of being there for her and offering my house as a place for her to live. Mikayla has slowly crept under my skin, and I want to do right by her. That’s why I pay attention in therapy now and actually open up. To show her we can become better people. To prove to her that we can move forward without the past dragging us down. That’s what I want her to accomplish, so what better way than showing her?
Mikayla leaves in a week and a half, and she still hasn’t accepted my offer about staying at my place. It’s true that I’ll need someone to watch over it while I’m at tour, but the honest to God truth is that I want to know where she is—a place I can make sure she’s safe.
She’s nowhere near ready to think about or have feelings for someone, but I want to be there for her if I can, one way or another.
I strum the chords on the guitar, my hand still not completely healed, so I take it slow. These songs will be put away, along with all the others I write that never get seen. It is my outlet, but can’t always be a part of my career. In my field, we need to pick and choose what becomes a part of our brand, and ballads are not a part of mine. But I keep them, mostly because my mom loves them.
I have never cared about anyone besides my mom, so wanting to be this guy for Mikayla is a new feeling, especially in the situation she’s in.
I write down some lyrics that come to me as I create a beat. The song is slowly coming together as I continue to think about Mikayla.
“May I?” I look up to see Mikayla standing at the entrance of my room.
“Sure.” I put the guitar down on my bed and watch her fidget.
“You can sit, Red.” She sighs and sits next to me. “What’s up?” I ask to try to ease her nerves.
“Sam also offered for me to stay with her. I wasn’t sure if I should take you up on your offer, or if I’d like to stay alone in an unknown house. She wanted me to know that I’m no longer alone.” I wait for her to continue but my heart is beating fast. I get why Sam would do that, but I want Mikayla close by, and having her at my house will allow for that.
“She’s going to continue helping me when I’m outta here. I think I mentioned that.” I nod and encourage her to continue. “Anyway, since she’ll still be my therapist I’m not sure it will be smart to stay with her whi
le I get back on my feet. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome, and I’ll keep your house clean. As soon as I have enough money saved for my own place, I’ll leave.”
“Red.” I stop her from talking. “I don’t care how long you stay. I never gave you a limit. My house will sit empty, and I want to make sure you have a safe place to sleep at night.” I go to reach for her hand and stop mid air. She looks down with furrowed eyebrows.
“Is this okay?” She nods but is still looking at my hand. I reach down and hold her hand gently. “Red, you deserve to feel safe enough to live your life instead of running from it. My house is in a gated community. No one can get in without permission. There’s also a security guard at all hours.”
“Okay . . .”
“If you’re interested in a job at the label, I’ll see what they have. It can be something simple so you can get used to being out of here and still be able to work on yourself. I want you to continue healing. Promise me you will.” I squeeze her hand, and she looks up at me. Tears threaten to spill, but she breathes deeply and holds them in. When did I begin caring so much about her?
I am so tempted to lean in, brush my lips against hers briefly, but I know better.
“Thanks,” she says and stands.
“Anytime, Red.” She walks out of my room and turns as if she has something else to say before disappearing, but she instead closes her mouth and walks away. I grab my guitar and continue playing, no particular song in mind.
“You know, my mom remarried,” I tell Grace during our session.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, a few years ago. She met a great guy, and they got married. She lives in Alabama now.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m glad she’s happy after everything she went through.”
“But . . .”
“No but. I am happy for her.”
“Are you still holding onto the anger towards your dad to compensate for her lack of anger?”
“What?” My eyebrows pull in together.
“Do you think you are holding on to the anger for your mom, since she’s moved on?”
“No. Why would I do that?”
“Maybe you think you owe her. In holding on to the anger, you’re protecting her honor. It sounds insane, but we do that. If you stay angry with your dad, then you are standing up for her. It’s okay to move on and let go of his memory so you can also find your peace. Sounds to me like your mom found hers. It’s okay to be happy, Tyler.”
I look at Grace and see the sincerity in her eyes. “I’m not sure I can forgive him.”
“Forgive yourself then, for not standing up to him until you were older. Although it’s not your fault, you were a child, I can see that is the reason you are holding back. Now, how have you felt without drinking while you have been here?” She changes topic. Maybe I do hold a grudge because it’s the only way I know how to punish my dad and myself for what went on. Although I highly doubt his spirit cares if I hate him or not.
“Fine.” I shrug my shoulders. “I haven’t put thought into drinking for some time.”
“Good. It’s possible to enjoy a drink without allowing it to control us. However, with your history, I would recommend you refrain from drinking. At least for some time,” she adds when I raise my eyebrows. She’s probably right.
“I’ll do my best.”
“I trust you will.” She nods her head once.
“Now, shall we talk about Mikayla?”
“What about her?” I jump defensively.
“I see you two spending a lot of time together.”
“All you therapists are a bunch of gossips,” I murmur. Grace laughs.
“All I was going to say is that it seems that you two have a strong bond. It’s good to have a support system. I take it she has helped you and vice versa.” I nod.
“I like her, doc.”
“You know I’m not a doctor.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know Mikayla personally, but I can tell there is something between you two. Tell me what you feel.”
“I don’t know.” I scrub my face. “I want to be there for her. I want to make sure she’s always safe and heals. I want to be better for her.” Grace smiles. When she doesn’t say anything, I continue to speak. “The only person I’ve ever wanted to take care of has been my mom. Now, I want to take care of Red, and not necessarily the same way as my mom.” I raise my eyebrows. “But I’ve never had feelings for anyone, so I’m not sure what this is. If I’m protective because of what I lived through with my dad, or if I have feelings for her.”
“Only you know what you’re feeling. Let me ask you this, can you picture your life without her once you leave Chasing Freedom?”
“No way.” I shake my head furiously. I want her in it . . . badly. Grace smiles again. “Fuck.”
“Having intimate feelings for someone is not a bad thing. I do recommend you continue healing like you want Mikayla to. Leaving here doesn’t mean you’re free from your ghosts. Tyler, your career will put you in tempting situations. You need to learn to be strong and turn down what is not good for you. No more excuses that you drink because you have to as a part of your job. You have a choice, and alcohol is one of them.”
“I’ll do it for her,” is all I say about that matter. Grace’s eyes crinkle but I ignore them. Red deserves better than a drunk who can’t control himself.
“Do it for yourself, as well,” she says before our hour is up.
After my session with Grace, I go in search of Mikayla to see if she’s up for training. I finally find her sitting alone in the lounge room with a canvas and paints. I smile when I see her in her element.
“You should pursue art when you get out of here.”
“Huh.” Her head snaps up to look at me. I run two fingers along her cheek to remove some paint she has there. I don’t take it personally when she flinches.
“You should get some formal training. Maybe go to art school.”
“Maybe.” She scrunches her eyebrows as if that is such a foreign idea. Sometimes I forget how isolated she was.
“That’s good.”
“Thanks. It’s how I imagine the mountains in the distance.” My eyes follow her gaze, and I realize that we can see part of some mountains from the big window.
“If you want to train down in the gym when you’re done, I’ll be there.”
“Thanks.” She smiles and gets back to her painting.
I head to the gym to burn off some excess energy.
I wipe my face with my tee shirt and find Mikayla coming into the gym in workout clothes. I smile when I see her. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“You finished the painting so quickly?” It’s only been an hour that I’ve been working out.
“Not yet. I’ll work more on it tomorrow. I needed a break.”
“From painting?” My eyes widen.
“Yeah. I was getting tired of sitting in the same position. Besides, the sun started setting and it was blinding me.” I chuckle and grab her.
“Okay, let’s perfect your self-defense skills.” We work on her fighting me off as an attacker.
I correct minor things here and there, but overall, she understands the basics. I’m glad she does. Hopefully, she is getting emotionally stronger, too. She doesn’t flinch as much when I grab her. I know she’s expecting it, but she’s come a long way with that.
I instruct her to do push-ups and core exercises to strength her body. I know being physically stronger will give her confidence if she does need to defend herself, which I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent.
“I’m done, Ty.” She’s breathing quickly and gasping for air.
“Okay.” I smile, wondering if she noticed that she didn’t use my full name. I sit next to her while she catches her breath. “I won’t be there to show you around my house when you leave, but I’ll make sure Sam goes with you. Joe, my manager, will bring my key before you leave.”
&n
bsp; “Okay.” She breathes deeply, but this time it’s not from the exercise.
“Once I’m out, I’ll be there.” I reassure her. I remove her hand from her mouth, noticing her bitten fingernails.
“Thank you,” she says sincerely.
“You’re welcome. If I can help, I’ll do so.”
After dinner, I grab my guitar and meet Mikayla in the lounge room. We sit on the sofa, and I begin playing random beats. Then, I hand her the guitar so she can practice the riff I taught her. I smile as she strums the chords, perfecting the rhythm. She sighs when her finger brushes against another chord by accident, but I chuckle and let her readjust her position.
“This is hard.” She stretches her fingers and shakes her left hand.
“It definitely takes some getting used to.” I take the guitar from her and lean it against the sofa between us. I watch as she stares out the big window. It’s dark out here, allowing the stars to twinkle brightly. She’s silent, and I have no idea what’s going through her head. I can see some faint scarring on her arms, tempting me to hold her close and take her pain away. What kind of sick bastard does that? Child or not.
I mostly ask myself if she’ll ever heal from it. I never got hit, and I am struggling to overcome what I lived. I can’t imagine being abused. I clench my jaw and fists at the same time. Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly and stare out the window with her.
I wash my face for the third time. My hands tremble as I place the towel back on the rack. I look at myself in the mirror and inhale. As I exhale, I focus on my eyes. Do I love myself?
You can do this. I stick to a positive statement, still working on recognizing emotions besides anger.
“Hey.”
I look over at Tyler, who enters the bathroom. “You know, you can’t come in here.”
“You good?”
I nod and grab the towel again, twisting it in my hands. He takes it away and places it in the sink. We turn to the door when it opens, but the girl raises her eyebrows and walks away.
“It’s okay to be nervous. You’ve been in here for three months. I know you’re scared about the possibility of him finding you, but remember that’s all in your head. You’re brave, Red. Go out there and live bravely.”
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