I can’t take it.
I don’t want to see that look in Emma’s eyes. I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to see me like this. There’s an anger brewing inside me, threatening to come out. What’s worse is that I want it. I want to unleash. I don’t want to feel anything but that rage. It'd be so much better than feeling everything else. If I could feel nothing, I’d much rather that. But I’ll settle on the anger for now.
“She begged me.” Tony’s words pull my focus from the snow falling outside and bring me back to him. I turn to look at him, trying to make sense of what he just said. He’s not looking at me. He’s hunched forward in his seat. He’s still crying. He’s still fucked up.
“She knew you wouldn’t,” he says in a jagged voice. His words slowly hit me. I stand still next to the cold window. The air has a hint of the freezing chill that gently blows against my skin. It keeps me frozen in place as I watch him.
“She could feel herself slipping. She didn’t want you to see her like that. She was ready.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask him, feeling breathless and lightheaded. It’s like I’m not really here. Like I’m just watching this scene unfold.
“She didn’t want me to tell you. But I can’t hide it from you.”
No. My head’s shaking on its own, denying what he’s telling me.
“She asked for the shot, and I gave it to her. I waited until she was asleep. I’m sorry, Derek,” his voice cracks as he wipes the tears from under his eyes.
He continues to cry, looking up at me, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for my forgiveness, maybe? For understanding?
I stare at him, looking so dejected in that chair. Letting the words sink into every vein. Letting them flow through my blood.
My body moves before I’m conscious of it. My boots smack against the floor as my hand balls into a fist. My knuckles crack against his jaw before I even know what’s going on.
He falls to the floor without even trying to defend himself, but that doesn’t keep me from getting on top of him. My hand wraps around his throat, but I’m not fast enough. His fist slams against my nose, cracking against bone. The pain radiates to my temples, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
It hardly affects me. The disbelief of what he’s done, the betrayal of what he’s telling me, is all-consuming. Rage burns deep inside of me.
I don’t waste any time slamming my fist into him again, planting a hard blow against his high cheekbone. He’s just as quick. His legs grip my waist, wrapping around me and pushing me down to the ground as he rolls over. He tries to pin my hands down to keep me from knocking the shit out of him, but I’m too strong for him.
I elbow the fucker in the face as he tries to tell me to calm down. I can hardly hear the words he’s screaming at me. Only white noise is ringing loudly in my ears. Blinding white light flashes before my eyes, and then it all turns red. My knuckles scream with pain over and over and over as they slam into his face. He’s holding on, taking each blow. He’s fighting me back though.
I pour all of my emotion into each hit. I try to move my legs up to get a grip on him, but his thighs are holding me down, pinning me to the floor. He can’t get a grip on my wrists though; he’s trying, but all it’s doing is giving me access to his face. I continue the punches, one after the other. My knuckles split from the impact, the pain shooting through me.
“You bastard!” I scream, finally finding my voice. I yell so loud it hurts, the words scraping against my throat as they leave me. I cling to the anger giving me so much strength; the full realization of what he said is hitting me so hard that I feel like I can’t hold on. “You killed her!” I yell. I can’t take it.
I struggle against him, and get away from his hold for just a moment. It’s long enough for me to pound my fist into his shoulder. I want his throat though. I want to kill him. “I can’t fucking believe you!” I don’t know how I’m even capable of speaking. The words are flying out of my mouth without my conscious consent. My fist slams against Tony’s jaw again. This time I hear bone crunch.
He took her away from me. I’ll make him pay. He deserves to die.
“She wasn’t okay!” he screams back at me. “She couldn’t live like that!” I ignore everything that he screams at me. Every word uttered from his lips is the word of a liar, of a murderer. Not that I didn’t already know that, because we’ve killed plenty, but my Ma is different. It’s unforgivable.
His face is so close to mine. The heat is overwhelming. My body’s shaking. Adrenaline is coursing so fast through my blood. It feels as if I can’t control myself. As he grabs my left wrist, pinning it down, I smash my right fist into his throat. His hands instinctively reach for his neck, finally letting me up. I push him off of me, shoving my fist into his chest. He falls backward, landing hard on the ground. I’m quick to move and slam my knee into his thigh, pinning his body down and preventing him from getting away. I go for his throat with both hands, squeezing as hard as I can, and he goes for mine.
I struggle to breathe. His hands push into the soft spot just below my Adam’s apple. His nails scrape and cut the back of my neck as he chokes me.
His face turns a bright red, swelling from the pressure I’m putting against his own throat, from the lack of oxygen. My body screams to let go of him. It begs me to try to pry his hands off of my throat. But I’d rather die than give up. I want to see the life drained from him. My heart clenches in my chest, pain radiating through every part of me. My body tingles with heated anger. Why him? Why’d he have to do it? Tony is the only friend I've ever had.
“I hate you.” I can’t get the words out. I can’t get them all out. But I got out what matters. Sadness flashes in his eyes as he hears my words, and a sick part of me actually feels pain for him. A part of me wants to forget this happened. Another part of me wishes he’d never told me. Why won’t the world just lie to me?
My lungs feel so empty. My head feels so light. The force of my hold on him slowly wanes as strength leaves me, my body shaking with a need to let go, the need to free myself from the force choking the life out of me.
“Derek!” I hear Sandra scream as she runs toward us.
“Get off him!” Sandra wails as she runs to us. A vision of her blurs as her fist slams against my face, whipping my neck to the side. Her nails scratch at my fingers, desperate to pull them away from Tony’s throat.
“Stop it!” Her high-pitched screech nearly burst my eardrums.
She pushes all of her weight onto my chest, pushing Tony away from me and out of my reach. She struggles for a moment. But I have nothing left in me. He falls backward, away from me and out of my hold. My lungs heave in a breath at the first chance. I roll onto my side, coughing and struggling for air. My eyes burn, my body trembles.
After a few moments, I try to pick myself up. I look up at Tony. The man I grew up with. My best friend. The man who murdered my mother.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I tell him in a raspy voice, the moment I have the breath.
The hurt that was in his eyes earlier isn’t there now. It’s been completely replaced with anger. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me.” His confession surprises me.
He holds my gaze as he says, “It wasn’t about me and you. It was about her.”
CHAPTER 17
Emma
I feel like the drive to Derek’s is taking forever. My hands twist on the steering wheel as I steady my breath. I just want to be there to hold him. I wipe my eyes again as I turn onto his street, my chest feeling tight. I really need to pull myself together and be strong for him, but I keep thinking about her. His mom was such a sweet woman. My heart aches for him… and for me. I had to pull over to get out the tears, but they keep coming back. I thought I was prepared, but I think I was only preparing him.
I struggle to breathe in as I stop at the last red light. I swear I’ve hit everyone. I sit back in the seat. The intersection is devoid of anyone. Just darkness this late at nig
ht.
I wish Derek hadn’t pushed me away. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he tells me to leave when I get there. I hit the gas slowly as the light turns green. I won’t be able to take it. I want to comfort him and be there for him, but I’m not okay either. I need someone too.
I pull into Derek’s driveway, the car only just now starting to heat up. My body is trembling from a mix of the cold and my nerves.
I practically run up the stone path to the front door, but when I get there I pause. Please don’t push me away Derek. Please. I need you too. It’s unlocked, so I go right in. I don’t even hesitate. My breathing comes in heavy, my lungs hurting from the sharp cold air.
I run down the hallway and straight for his mom’s room. My heart's beating so fast; I’m still wishing it’s not true. I still expect to find her there. It’s foolish, but I can’t help denying the truth of the simple text message.
But she’s not there. Neither is Derek.
Her bed’s empty, and the medical equipment is turned off. It’s so quiet, so surreal. She was just in here, talking to me like nothing was wrong. I close my eyes remembering how she told me to take care of him. I didn’t think much of it, but as I hear her voice I can see she was saying good bye. The last words she told me. I cover my mouth and hold in the sob as I lean against the wall. I will. I promise I will.
A moment passes, my body heating with the agony of her loss as I struggle to right myself.
I’m a fucking mess, but I’ll be there for him. That’s all I need to do. I take one last look around the blush-colored bedroom and walk back into the hall. I can’t close the door. Something in me just wants to leave it open. I can’t shut it.
I look over my shoulder for one final glance into the room as I walk away and down the hall. I almost call out for Derek, but then I hear a sound in the living room. I can’t place what the noise is. But it draws me to him. A moth to flame.
It’s so quiet. It’s ominous. I walk into the dark room and whisper his name. He’s sitting in the dark. I can just barely make him out. He's leaning forward in the white armchair with his head in his hands.
My heart breaks for him. I don’t wait for him to look up; I go straight to him and wrap my arms tightly around him. He doesn’t even say anything as he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my shoulder.
I hold him for a long time, running my hands up and down his back and kissing the top of his head. His face is wet. He’s obviously been crying. I can’t take it. I don’t want to ever see him in pain like this.
“It’s okay,” I whisper without thinking. It’s not really. And I can’t make it okay. I wish I could take it back. If only words were a physical thing, and I could rip them from the air before they reached his ears. My heart clenches in my chest as he shakes his head slightly, not responding.
“Thank you,” he says after a few minutes. His voice is raw.
He quickly wipes around his eyes before picking his head up to look at me. My heart stops in my chest. Holy fuck! His left eye is almost swollen shut. My breath comes up short, and I don’t know how to react.
What the fuck happened?
“For not listening to me. For coming,” he says before leaning in for a quick kiss. He doesn’t address the fact that it looks like he got hit by a fucking tractor-trailer of fists. There’s a huge scratch down his neck, and several bruises forming on his jaw and cheek.
He got fucked up.
I can taste the salt from his tears on his lips. It takes me a moment to even register what he said.
I rub the back of his neck as I say, “Of course I'm here. I’m always going to be here for you.” I say truthful words, but I’m still waiting for him to tell me why the hell he looks like that. I was only behind him by maybe a half an hour. I know I drive slower than him, and I had to take some time to process it when Sandra texted me. I was an emotional wreck, but I wasn’t that far behind him. What the fuck happened?
“Ma…” Derek swallows thickly.
“I know,” I say quickly, so he doesn’t have to. “I texted Sandra after you left.”
He nods his head once and then looks down, avoiding my gaze.
“You really are the sweetest person I have ever met,” he says in a hoarse voice leaning into me again, his hold on me stronger than ever before.
I want to ask him about his face. The only thing I can think of is that he did it to himself. The thought makes me sick. I can’t stand it. I need to ask him, but I can’t right now. I’m struggling to process everything.
“Come on, why don't we have a drink and then try to get some sleep?” And with that, I pull him into the kitchen, my heart beating frantically as I try to figure out what happened.
He sits down on a stool at the island and runs his hands through his hair. “I don't even know where to begin with everything that I have to do this week. Ma’s had everything in order for a while now, but I just can’t think about making arrangements for her funeral.” His voice cracks.
I grab each of us a glass from the cabinet, and pour some brandy in each. I need a drink, too.
“I'll help you. Don't worry about it tonight,” I say as I carry the two glasses over to the island. As I set the glasses down, I see that his knuckles are bloody again. They're much worse than the night at the restaurant. I'm really hoping he just hit a wall though and not a person this time. I stare at them for a long moment, refusing to look at his face.
He notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just like he always does.
We drink our brandy in silence. I’m waiting. I’ll wait for him this time. He has to tell me. I won’t pry. He has to know by now I won’t judge him, that I only want to help him. And he needs help. He desperately needs help.
I grab his hands and look into his pale blue eyes. “I’m here for you,” I tell him soothingly. I try to rub my thumb over his knuckles, but they hit the cuts and it stops me; it makes me pull away from him.
He looks down at the countertop as he says, “Don't leave me tonight, sweetheart. I need you. I don't want to be alone right now.”
“I'm here, and I'll be here for as long as you want me,” I say reassuringly. He looks so tired; he looks emotionally abused and raw. I want to hold him, scream at him to find out what he’s done, and question him until he tells me the truth. But I can’t.
He leads me toward the stairs, and I feel like shit. Nothing feels right. How can he just avoid something so obviously wrong? Even worse, how can I let him? Because his mother just died!
God, I feel sick.
As we get to the staircase, my phone goes off. It's Sandra. I anticipated she’d call me. I wonder what she would do about Derek. About finding him like this.
* * *
WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?
* * *
I RESPOND BACK QUICKLY, only pausing for a second.
* * *
WHAT?
* * *
HER RESPONSE IS INSTANTANEOUS.
* * *
WHY DID DEREK ATTACK TONY?
* * *
WHAT THE FUCK!? My feet turn to stone, refusing to move as the message hits me. Derek attacked Tony? My heart stops in my chest as Derek tries to pull me along and up the stairs. I let him. I silence my phone, and I just try to breathe.
I can’t believe he hit Tony. I eye him as we walk. What did he say? What did he do?
He keeps covering his face with his other hand. He needs so much help. He’s so lost. I have no fear for my own life whatsoever, but for his? I’m so scared for him. My heart is breaking.
I stop at the entrance to his bedroom, and he keeps walking, right into the bathroom and washes his hands and splashes some water on his face.
I can’t explain how I feel as I sit on the end of the bed. It groans slightly as I shift my weight.
I love a man who’s fucked up. I know that. But I never guessed he’d take it out on Tony. I stare at the open door to the bathroom, wondering why.
Finally, I decide I have to ask him about i
t. I can’t just pretend. Even with his mom dying. This is just too much. “Derek, what happened with Tony? Sandra just texted me,” I say, trying not to sound accusing, as he turns off the faucet.
His jaw tenses, and he clenches his fists. Anger and hatred are apparent on his face.
“He's dead to me,” he says brusquely. I sit there in disbelief. My lips part, but I can’t think of a response.
He climbs into bed, ignoring me. He lays down, but I can’t. I won’t. I wait a moment, trying to collect my thoughts and shift on the bed to be closer to him.
“I need you to tell me.” I say quietly, the somber tone reflecting the air surrounding us.
“I can’t,” he says and then rolls onto his side, away from me. I suck in a sharp breath.
“You’re not okay-”
“I know!” he yells. “Please, just drop it.” He almost whispers the last part.
My shoulders tremble as I struggle with right and wrong, giving and taking. His mother just passed. He’s physically and emotionally fucked up. I need to be here for him, but how can I be if he won’t tell me what’s going on in his head?
I go into the bathroom quietly and shut the door. I text Sandra back.
* * *
DEREK WON'T TELL me anything. I didn't even know he attacked Tony until I got your text. WTF happened?
* * *
I START PACING back and forth across the marble floor. It's a few minutes before I get her response.
* * *
TONY & I were together at his place. Work called asked me to come in to help fix a mistake. T wanted to go see D’s mom. Dropped him off on my way. 2hours later Tony messaged about D’s mom. I pull up and hear shouting, go in. D was beating the shit out of Tony.
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