by Eden Fortae
“You should’ve come to me sooner, sweetheart. Self-medicating with alcohol will only worsen your depression-induced psychosis. It also kills your credibility.” He grabbed the bottle from the pew behind them and doused her with just enough vodka to create the illusion that she’d been drinking. When he was done, Kenneth stepped over her, disappearing through the broken window behind the pulpit.
When Eden finally stood, a throbbing and wetness between her legs became more noticeable. She used the jagged pew for balance as she pulled her leggings up and tried to steady herself. She scanned the darkness for her missing right shoe and gave up, only recovering her bag and keys. Her hand touched the metal barrier separating the stage from the seating in her quest to remove the other shoe. It was still warm from the heat earlier in the day. She recoiled, stumbling backward. As she did, the cross over the window caught her eye. God saves, and God heals. But not her. Never her. Enough was enough.
Shoe tucked in her bag, she climbed out of the window and began to walk. Her eyes remained on the ground most of the way. She didn’t care if a car struck her this time or if a train fell from the sky. The last piece of her sanity was somewhere with her missing shoe, lost in the blackness of that never-ending tunnel.
Each step took her deeper. Even at the first sign of morning, all she saw was darkness. All she felt was hopelessness.
Her apartment came into view, sparking a wave of anxiety. Eden felt the onset of tears, but nothing happened. As if her body knew she was almost there, the aches set in. Her feet throbbed, cut and sore from walking on glass and gravel. She limped the rest of the way and up the stairs. The moment she closed her apartment door, every single lock was slid into place. Her bag hit the floor with a loud thud. Still on autopilot, she started the shower and was about to get in fully clothed when she caught a glimpse of her reflection. A knot swelled over her brow. It was so big it prevented her eye from opening fully. In the center was a cut with drying blood caked in the short hairs. Dirty tears stained her cheek. Worse than that, she saw vacant eyes. No light. No purpose. No more strength.
Behind the sliding glass of the mirror, she found a bottle of pills she hadn’t needed in a long time. Her hands shook, twisting off of the cap and as she dumped the entire bottle into her mouth. Eden switched on the faucet and cupped her hands together to wash them down. Those that’d fallen to the floor, she scrambled for, swallowing them quickly and with the water still running.
Shame, blame, and constant pain. It would all be over soon. Peace finally felt within reach.
Eden laid on the floor and closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep. To dream of the times, she felt something, and it was real. Kya and her mom were her first thought. With Kya came Rina and her humor. The way Chris looked at Rina would forever be the perfect image of love. Chris and Jermaine weren’t blood, but they were brothers. Her envy took her back to Kya. The thought of disappointing her initiated tears. She’d be ok, though. Kya had a family, now. She had Antonio, Amara, Chris, Rina, and Donny.
Donny...
At the thought of him, her heart took on the strange beat that only he could provoke. Thoughts of him and how he’d changed her world made her cry harder. He gave her smiles, laughter, and everything she swore she didn’t need until she did. Remembering how he held her hand and proclaimed them two misshapen pieces that fit each other forced her eyes open.
In time he’d find a better fit. A woman worthy of his heart and his love. Before that, he’d find her lifeless body on the bathroom floor and question why his love wasn’t enough.
The imagery forced Eden onto her knees. Visions of Donny damaged from the discovery sent her to the toilet. Two fingers at the back of her throat had the pills coming back up. Frantically, she repeated it until bile dripped to the floor and her stomach pumped violently.
Convinced she’d gotten the last of it, Eden let her head fall to the toilet seat. For the millionth time, she cried. There was no real will to live, yet her love for that man wouldn’t let her to die.
THIRTY-ONE
He walked, sprinted, and sped—all to get to Eden. Only one of his calls didn’t go straight to voicemail. After that, every call that wasn’t her soured his mood. The only other person he wanted to hear from was in constant contact and without great news.
“It’s down, boss. Unfortunately, screenshots are popping up all over the place.”
Donny gripped the steering wheel so hard the pain rolled through his wrist. “Hack the accounts. I want that shit gone.”
“All of them?”
He knew it was impossible to stop the spread once the view count was high. When the blog was removed, they’d already had enough views to turn this dumpster fire into a four-alarm emergency. Still, Donny was determined to contain it.
“Yes, all of them! There’s a bonus in it for you if you can spin this shit.” He hung up, switching lanes to go around a taxi. Once he reached his apartment, he jumped out and took the stairs two at a time. He screamed her name, banging on the door as he fumbled his keys. When the door opened, Donny went straight to his room. The shirt she slept in was folded neatly over the side of the hamper. He touched it, feeling the fabric for traces of her warmth that weren’t there.
On his way back to his truck, he tried her phone again, then called another one of his connects.
“Hass, I need a favor. I’m going to send you a picture. Hack the traffic cameras and tell me if you see her and where. An extra thousand for your time. Double if you find her.”
“I’m on it!”
He hung up, called Chace but ended the call before it rang. His mind was in too many places, but he hadn’t forgotten that everyone wasn’t privy to Eden’s secrets. If Chace hadn’t seen the shitstorm unfolding online, he wasn’t going to alert him to it. For that exact reason, he left Antonio’s house with a lie about a work emergency. In due time, his cousin’s hound of a publicist, Aneka, would be in the know, and so would everyone else.
Until then, Donny followed the quickest route to her apartment. He surveyed the faces of everyone with hair like hers, similar shapes, and walk. Just as he had at his apartment, Donny took the stairs two at a time and banged on Eden’s door. He tried the knob and kicked the door when it didn’t budge.
Hass texted him two pictures. Both showed Eden on the street near her apartment. Neither were close enough to clearly see her face, but the timestamp suggested the images were captured before the blog went live. That meant he was at least two hours behind. As he texted his next demand for Hass, he remembered the GPS app. Kya and Karrina called him paranoid for installing it on everyone’s phones. He called it behind proactive. Because of that app, he knew where to go next.
Several laws were broken on his way there. Again, he searched for her in the crowds of people moving along the sidewalk. The dark green awning caught his eye. He stopped in the middle of the street to make an illegal turn and almost collided with a bus to get back to it. Double parked, he flipped off the guy cursing him out for blocking him in.
He stood on the edge of the curb, looking up and down the street. The app had her there. She had to be near. His eyes hurried, searching. Urgency turned into desperation. Desperation turned into panic as he called her phone repeatedly, and it didn’t ring.
Where was she? The urge to call Chace won out. By then, everyone was blowing up his phone. Until he found Eden, he couldn’t give a fuck less about the missed calls or voicemails draining his battery. At nightfall, the city became a dangerous place, and she was out there somewhere. Her friend had no clue where she was or where she could be, but he could try to get a spare apartment key from his dad in Albany.
In the meantime, Donny drove around the block multiple times. He went back to his apartment in case she came back. Why did she leave in the first place? Because she read his tone as the opposite of his words? Because he hadn’t made himself clear enough by stating how deeply she was rooted in his heart? Kicking himself renewed his anger. He should have stayed home. He should have said what wa
s needed to put her fragile mind at ease. That he loved her with all he had. So much that the ring hidden in the left corner of his top drawer was only waiting for her to say she loved him back.
Donny paced, sat nervously, and finally checked his messages. No one had seen her. Reading their questions and seeing the concern made him angry. At her, the blogger, whoever released those documents, and himself. It was rightful yet irrational, telling of the panic pushing him to drive around with no clue where to go.
Traffic thinned the later it became. There was no trace of Eden anywhere. Until he found her, Donny refused to talk to anyone but his hackers and Chace. All of which were silent throughout the night and early part of the morning. By then, Donny called every hospital within the borough and some just outside. Policies, privacy, shit he didn’t give a single fuck about stood in the way. They were either vague or talking his fucking ear off about what information they could provide, then say she wasn’t in the system.
He used his knowledge of Eden and her thought process to check her bank account for recent withdrawals or purchases. There were none. No evidence of a bus or plane ticket. No pending transactions for Uber or Lyft. For the third time, he went back to his apartment. The sun was up, as high as his stress and anxiety levels. That shirt he last saw her in glowed like a beacon. His eyes kept going to it until he picked it up and took it with him.
Slowly but surely, Donny was losing his mind. One minute he was pacing the street with that shirt clutched in his palm. The next, he was sitting in the stairwell of her apartment. How long he’d been, there was a mystery, but when Chace pushed through the front door, Donny was on his feet.
“Sorry it took so long,” the key was extended and snatched on sight.
Eden’s friend stood behind him as he unlocked the door and followed him inside.
“Eden?” He called to her, turning each corner, looking at everything. The bag she carried was on the floor, in it, one of her shoes. Hass finally came through with more pictures. Eden was walking, her feet bare, that bag pressed to her chest. Something about those pictures killed him—the timestamp and small traces of blood on the floor, most of all.
“Shit…” Chace said just above a whisper, causing Donny to rush to him. The empty pill bottle between the man’s fingers sank his heart. Seeing purple sleeping aides scattered on the floor, dissolved in the toilet, with yellowish fluid on the seat, and between tiles, literally brought him to his knees. Any foolish hope he had about her not seeing the blog crashed and burned. With it, a massive piece of him.
THIRTY-TWO
The pain was growing by the minute. With each step she took, sharp pain rolled from her back to her upper thighs. The first seat she encountered, Eden sat sideways with her legs curled into the chair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the brief break from the bright lights. Slowly she breathed through the pain, pinching the bridge of her nose to redirect it. Had it not been for the rules, she would have stayed in bed, facing the wall.
“Eden?”
“Yes?” She glanced, taking in another deep breath. Shifting to sit naturally, she winced and held her hand over her stomach, drawing the older woman’s eyes there.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Cramps,” she replied meekly.
The white-haired nurse approached her carefully, the clipboard in her arms pressed to her chest. “I’ll have to check your chart to verify, but I believe I can give you something for that.”
Saying nothing, Eden stood slowly, walking alongside the woman who was eyeing her suspiciously. Entering the brightly lit, sterile room, she again took the first seat she saw. The empty beds separated by short walls were tempting. She didn’t think she’d make it to one. While the nurse did a quick check of the paperwork, Eden lowered her head. Within minutes, the nurse was wrapping a cuff around her upper arm.
“I have to do a quick check of your vitals.” Nurse Green’s gloved hands were as gentle as her voice. The concern in her eyes was as warm as the smile she carried daily. “A lot of your medical history wasn’t noted. Do you have allergies? Specifically to medication?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you had any reaction to over the counter medications such as vomiting, headaches, sudden fever?”
“No, ma’am.”
“When was your last menstrual period?”
Eden raised her head. “What month is it?”
“September,” the nurse said slowly, writing something down on the sheet she sat on the counter.
Eden’s frown deepened, the fog in her mind clearing slightly. “July.”
The nurse paused again, the stethoscope suspended between them. “July?”
Eden didn’t realize she was shaking her head or that she’d answer the question until the words were repeated to her.
“You’re spotting? Can you describe your cramps to me?”
No, she couldn’t. Although her mind was practically fragmented, there were still enough conclusive pieces to see where the nurse was going with that line of questioning. Panic set in. Sweat formed along the back of her neck in her palms. More as she watched Nurse Green retrieve a sterile cup from one of the drawers.
“No,” Eden whispered, her eyes already brimming with tears. “No. I can’t. I can’t.”
“Eden, listen to me. I can see that you’re in physical pain. If you are indeed pregnant, painful cramping is not normal. You could be experiencing a miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy. If that’s not the case, there’s still something causing you pain that we need to identify.”
“No,” she shook her head again, finding it hard to catch her breath. “I can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t!” She cried, sliding to the floor where she brought her knees to her chest and screamed into her hands. Caught between the pain and possibly, she rocked back and forth, repeatedly screaming, “God, no! Please, I can’t!”
His desk was a cluttered mess. The papers scattered on it, all relevant to his search. All about Eden.
She didn’t return to her apartment. Not while he sat in the hallway with the empty pill bottle crushed in his pocket. Not when he went home at the insistence of his father. She wasn’t there when he got there, hadn’t come in while he showered. There was still no sign of her going into August, and as the summer sun gave way to colorful leaves, he hadn’t given up.
Every day, Donny had her accounts checked. With no movement there or on her only social media account, he was baffled. Given the circumstance, he didn’t expect her to engage online. However, the force that was Kya and Antonio’s hound of a publicist dealt with the fallout long ago. Whatever they’d said and done killed that story and painted the blogger in such a way that her blog was still on hiatus and each social media account deactivated. As fate would have it, another claim involving that son-of-a-bitch, Kenneth, sparked an investigation. Had Eden been home, safe in his arms, the fact would have satisfied him. These days, he was barely speaking.
Her absence felt like a death. Not knowing where she was and that she tried to harm herself kept him up at night. He slept when he could no longer fight it and showered to release his emotions. Food was an afterthought. Company unwanted. His family was worried, and rather than faking it for their benefit, he stayed away and kept looking.
Instead of running to the cemetery, he ran to her apartment. There, he stared at the door, reminiscing. They declared their friendship in that spot. He asked her for a kiss on the top step. One day she walked that path and out of his life, her world crumbling, and he wasn’t there to shield her as he promised.
Donny took up residency in his office. He went there after his run and shower, staying well into the night. Often, he drove through the streets with foolish hope before retiring to her apartment stairwell or his dark bedroom. He could still smell her in his sheets. Her peach shampoo and conditioner sat in his shower untouched with her pink soap. The pictures on his phone, breaking him more and more.
Going over the information he could dig up from Eden’s stay in Atlanta, Donny
checked for hits there. Although Chace seemed genuinely worried, too, Donny had his accounts hacked and monitored, also. The ridiculousness of his actions had occurred to him. He couldn’t care less. Even if Eden didn’t want to be found, he couldn’t rest until he knew she was ok.
When his phone rang, he glared at the screen. Usually, he’d silence the calls. Unfamiliar numbers were sent straight to voicemail. Still itching for an outlet for his anger, Donny answered at the last second, growling into the phone.
“What?”
There was nothing at first. Then his heartbeat became erratic. “Donovan?”
Small and timid, her voice lacked something that only she had but was still as sweet—still music to his ears.
“Baby,” he breathed out in a rush. “Where are you? Are you ok?” The line went quiet again. Her hesitation worried him. “Eden?”
“I’m...ok. I–something happened. I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything. Please tell me where you are. I need to see you.”
Her hesitation unnerved him. Elation and eagerness clashed, tangled into frustration the longer it took her to answer him. Then he heard sniffling and the unmistakable sound of crying.
“I need you to come to NYC Health and ask for Dr. Alldred.”
“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me, ok? I’m coming.”
“Just, ask for Dr. Alldred.”
The call ended before he could press her further. On his feet, he scrambled to clean off his desk, shoving the documents in the top drawer. Merely hearing her voice renewed the fight in him. The excitement he wanted to feel was held down by something in his gut. Something dark and heavy he tried but could never prepare for.
Every time the elevator dinged, his pulse spiked. Everyone who stepped off resembling a doctor, he waited with bated breath for them to approach him. When one finally did, she looked nothing like he expected. Her youthful face suggested her college days weren’t far behind her. Her high bun made her look even younger, and aside from the badge around her neck, she looked like every other person seated around him.