Hazed

by Brittany Butler

CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Someone near me groans. I cover my ears, hoping to block it out. It happens again, and this time, I feel it. It’s me…It takes all the energy I can muster to move my hands to my stomach. I weave my fingers around the strong hand gripping my waist. I try, unsuccessfully, to turn into him, my body feels like Jell-O. Sensing my dilemma, he gently pulls me to him and turns me on my side. I smile against his neck, and place a soft, weak kiss on his damp skin. I peel my eyes open, immediately regretting it. With every blink I take, it feels like sandpaper is scratching my eyes. I close them for good, ignoring the way they burn, how dry my mouth is, and my general misery. I just enjoy the feeling of his arms draped around me.

  “You smell good,” I croak, my voice sounds worse than I feel.

  “I just took a shower,” he says, his voice is blank, lacking emotion. He could feel bad, like I do, but his voice isn’t rough or hoarse. It’s just off. “I made breakfast and there’s water beside the bed. Can you sit up? You should drink some.”

  I open one eye, squinting at him, I nod my head and he helps me sit up. The pain that was spread out over my body, rushes to my head as I sit up. I lean against the headboard, taking my head in my hands, I want to scream, but I know that would only make it worse. He hands me the glass of cool water and I take a sip, testing my stomach. I don’t wait for it to respond, I turn it up, sucking down the contents.

  Hayze grabs the cup from me and sits it on the table. He pushes my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. He places a soft kiss on my forehead and looks me in the eye. His soft amber irises are full of sorrow. “Better?”

  “Much better,” I say, nodding. I glance around the room for the first time. It takes me a moment to figure out we’re at his cabin. I don’t hear anyone moving around, so I assume we’re alone. I laugh, softly. “What happened last night?”

  “You feel like eating breakfast?” He asks, hesitantly. I let him help me from the bed. I cringe, noticing what I’m wearing for the first time. His sweatpants are rolled down multiple times and engulf my legs. I walk in the bathroom; my jaw drops at my reflection. I look like death. No, worse, I look like I died last month and have been lying in his bed since.

  Despite Hayze’s best effort, my hair sticks out behind my ears. I grab the ponytail holder on my wrist and pull my hair back. My mascara is streaked down my face and my powder is blotchy. I turn on hot water and grab a washcloth, I don’t stop scrubbing until I’m positive I’ve scrubbed away two layers of skin.

  I meet Hayze in the kitchen, he’s standing beside a barstool with a plate of food in front of it.

  “Bacon and eggs,” I say before I see it. The smell greets me as soon as I walk in. “My favorite, how did you know?”

  “It was just a hunch.”

  I hop on the stool, not wasting anytime, I pop a piece of bacon in my mouth. I laugh at his seriousness. “Do you feel as bad as I do?”

  “Worse.” With his hands on the counter, he drops his head.

  “I wish I looked like you when I was hungover,” I laugh.

  “I’m not hungover, Taylor.”

  I toss my bacon down with a sudden loss of appetite. I rack my brain, trying to remember the night. What happened to make him so indifferent toward me? I can’t remember a thing past the apartment. Everyone was there drinking, having a good time. But Joel and Hayze got into an argument.

  “Okay, what the hell happened last night?”

  His head snaps up. He takes his time, sighing, he rubs the back of his head. My eyes narrow, I’ve seen him do this before, many times, he better not lie or play it off as nothing.

  “You were drugged…It was an accident, but it happened.”

  “What? How?”

  “Joel made some drinks and you didn’t know what was in them…I wasn’t paying attention,” he says, his voice cracked at the end. My plate soars across the room, the food splatters to the wall, mixing in with shards of glass as it hits the floor. I look at him with wide eyes, he leans against the wall, panting with anger. “Chandler pulled me off of him and he left. When I see that fucker again…”

  I hold my hand up. “He didn’t do it on purpose…Just let it go. What was in the drinks?”

  “Xanax. A lot of them, you threw up. It helped. I was freaking out, I wanted to take you to the hospital, but Lea said you were okay. Your brother is pissed, he showed up after Joel left.”

  I rest my forehead in my hand, staring at the counter. My mind is racing as I try to make sense of everything. “Why did he even have that in your apartment? Are they his prescription?”

  “No,” he says, the color drains from his face. We both know where this is going but only one of us holds the answer. I’m sitting here in the dark, where I’ve been the entire time I’ve known Hayze. He watches me with reluctance.

  “Are you prescribed?”

  “No.”

  “Do you take them?” The words tumble from my mouth before I can think it through. Part of me wants to take them back, laugh it off and stay ignorant to whatever is going on with him.

  Looking down, he nods his head. “And sell them.”

  “What else, Hayze?” I urge him, knowing there’s more from the tone of his voice. He wants to say more, but do I want to hear it? I could probably forgive this, but once I know more, can I let it all go?

  “Weed…And coke.”

  I’ve had a weird feeling all along. Maybe I knew, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. A sob escapes my throat and I hop down from the bar stool, backing away from him. “Was this some sort of joke to you?” I swipe tears from my eyes and walk away.

  I go in the bedroom, close the door and curse when I find there’s no lock on it. I fling myself on the bed anyway, hiding my face in the pillows.

  “Let me explain everything…”

  “I’ve given you chance after chance to explain, Hayze! This is your fault! If I would’ve known you were on drugs, I wouldn’t be here! I wouldn’t have been in that position last night!”

  His hands catch my wrist and he jerks me from the bed. “You think I don’t fucking know that?” He shouts, veins are popping from his neck.

  I move further away from him. “Take me home. Now!”

  He shakes his head no. “I know last night and everything else wrong in your life is my fault. You think I don’t know that?”

  My face plants in my hands. “You’re on drugs,” I say, dumbfounded. I just needed to hear it out loud, remind myself that I need to get the hell away from him. And this time, stay away.

  “I’m not on drugs. I was…I barely do anything anymore, Taylor, you have to believe me…When you came around everything changed.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to say anything else about his change. “Yeah, well everything changed for me when you came around.”

  “It’s different now…I use to need it, but I don’t anymore. I’ve done it a few times for fun, and it’s you that’s changing me. I probably should’ve told you, but every time I saw you, I found myself doing less, wanting to see you more. And I knew I couldn’t tell you after we started dating, you would’ve left without letting me explain,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just thought if I waited long enough, it would go away. No one would remember, you wouldn’t find out…I wouldn’t do any of that shit again.”

  “Problems don’t just disappear, Hayze,” I say. He nods his head. He paces the room twice then sits on the bed next to me. “That’s really screwed up…You can’t keep something this big from me and hope it goes away. I could’ve forgiven you for that. Everyone has things they’re not proud of from their past, but you intentionally kept it from me. You could’ve told me so many times, Hayze, now I’m just wondering if this is another lie. Maybe you’re scared I’ll find out that you’re still using every day and this is just another cover-up.”

  He reaches for my hand and I jerk it away. “Baby, I’m finally telling the truth, you’ve gotta believe me.”

  “I’ll never trust you again
. I always wonder…” I stand up and pull on a pair on his shoes, they’re big but I have to get out of here. “I don’t know what’s worse. The lies or the fact that you wouldn’t tell me because you thought I’d leave you as soon as we hit a bump in the road. I could’ve helped you, Hayze.”

  “It’s not like that. You deserved more, you didn’t need to help me; I had it under control. It’s just that…” He sighs, “Last night got out of hand. I should’ve been watching you. It’s my fault.”

  “You didn’t have it under control. Look, I’m going for a walk…I’ll let you know something when I get back,” I say, leaving the room.

  He catches my wrist. “Let me know something? Want me to come with you?” He looks confused.

  “No…I need space from you,” I say, my voice is much harsher than intended, and I almost apologize. Sighing, he drops my wrist and lets me go. I walk out the back door and go toward the sound of moving water. Hayze once told me he came out here alone to think. Right now that’s exactly what I need. I walk to the shoreline and stop. It’s beautiful. The overcast is bright at first, I shield my eyes from it and drop my hands when I adjust. The water goes on for miles and miles. I walk across the beach, hoping answers will pop out at me.

  I grab the nearest rock, toss it in my hand, watching as it drops and soars into the air again. I chunk it in the water, as the rock sinks to the bottom, ripples cast in each direction. Unsatisfied I do this again. And again. I only stop when I feel him approach. I stop and steady myself, I don't turn. I know it's him, my body turns rigid and my heart speeds up as if the devil himself is behind me. Moments tick by before he sighs. I hear the rocks crunch as his feet make each step on the beach.

  "If you're looking to release anger, you'll have to throw something much heavier," he says.

  "Maybe I should throw you," I say.

  Unsurprisingly, he chuckles. As the laughter escapes from his body, I can tell by the sigh of relief, he thinks this is okay; that we're okay. "Yeah, maybe you should," he responds.

  I tug the zipper on my jacket up and hug my middle; when my eyes land on Hayze, his head is bowed as his kicks rocks around the shore. His eyes lift and find mine; he pulls his hands from his pockets and walks to me.

  To an onlooker, his face would be unreadable, but to me I know that look. His thoughts roll around his head like a frantic ball as he considers each excuse he'll give me.

  I wish I were the onlooker, a stranger. I know he can't quit for good, not yet. He's searching for the perfect sentence, the perfect touch to bid time until I'm safely sucked into his trap. When he reaches me, he doesn't ask for permission, he pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me into his chest. He's willing me to forget, to forgive because somewhere deep down, he knows this time I won't.

  "You wanna go back in? I'll make you some coffee," he whispers into my hair, kissing me as he breathes the final word.

  "I, uh, need to get back to the dorm," I say.

  He pulls me at arm’s length and studies my face. "Is that what you want?" The question ends, but his eyes continue to say much more. He knows.

  "That's what I need," I tell him.

  My dorm is silent and empty. To my dismay, Lea is gone, she left behind a note saying she’s staying at a friend’s for a few days. I crushed the paper in my fist and tossed it in the trash. I need her. I need someone. I can’t stay here by myself after everything that happened. Hayze paces my room until I’m certain there’s a permanent trail in the floor. I slump in my desk chair, exasperated. I want to ask him to leave, I know I should. His anxiety is rubbing off on me and his presence is clouding my head, but honestly I’m afraid of what will happen to me if he goes.

  "Taylor, look…don't do this! What do I have to do?" He runs his hands through his hair, and paces my room twice before stopping in front of me.

  "You know the answer to that," I say, my voice is calm. I’ve already had this fight and I don’t intend to go through this again right now. I can’t.

  "I told you I would quit! I haven't used in a week, Taylor! And I’m not doing it again!"

  "I don't know if I believe you, Hayze. I don't know that I'll ever believe you! Every time you don't text back, every time you do something off, I'll always go back to this. I'll always wonder if you're using, if you’ve been arrested, if you overdosed, if.... I just can't do it!"

  His brows bump together in a scowl. “You don't have to worry about it anymore. I promise! Fuck, I'll let you drug test me if that's what you need."

  "That's not normal..."

  "Fuck normal!"

  His face is crimson with anger; he slaps everything off my side table. I clench my fist and snap my eyes shut, nothing good will happen if we’re both angry.

  "Maybe I need a better word… Healthy! That's not healthy. Relationships shouldn't require someone to drug test!"

  "What do I have to do? I'll do it! I'll do anything, just don't look at me like that,"

  The corners of his eyes soften and the anger melts away. His look is pleading as he crouches in front of me, taking both of my hands in his.

  "Like what?" I snap, refusing to cave in.

  "Like you're done," he says, his tone is soft. He jiggles my hands, begging for my attention. I don’t want to look at him, I’m afraid to see those pleading amber eyes.

  "I am."

  "No, no you're not," he says, shaking his head. "What do I have to do?"

  I push past him and fall on the bed and turn my head to the side, avoiding his intrusive stare. I know I’ll never move past this. I’ll never trust him, but if I give him a slither of hope, maybe he’ll leave. I can avoid him and he’ll eventually move on. My heart sinks at the thought, too soon.

  "Prove it," I say.

  He sighs, exasperated. "That's what I'm trying to do," he says and pinches the bridge of his nose. "How should I prove it?"

  "I need time. I need…some space," I say.

  He stands over my bed, watching me, I don’t look at him. I’m staring at the ceiling, willing him to leave because of my indifference.

  “I don't like that, but if it's what you need, I'll try."

  "It's what I need,” I say.

  He steps toward me, but I shake my head. He doesn't attempt to hide the hurt in his eyes, when he turns and walks out of the door, a sob releases in my throat. Quietly, I whisk to the door and peak out. I catch a glimpse of his back as he walks slowly down the grim, narrow hall. When a group of students pass by I fight the urge to yell stop him. An overwhelming desire comes over me to yell I didn't mean it, come back, but I don't.

  I inch into the hallway to catch a last peek, he turns and catches my eyes. Confusion casts over his face, I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. All that needs to be said has been said. He stopped walking and is now facing me, waiting for me to ask him to come back, to continue this ugly cycle that neither of us can win.

  With his eyes boring into the back of my skull, I run for my door and slam it as my back slides down it. My face plants into my waiting hands, I tuck my feet under my legs and get comfortable. This could be a learning experience and a break that we both need in order to have a healthy relationship with one another. Or this is how the shittiest relationship of all time comes to a close. But in the now, the fights, the feelings, the love I thought I felt, it’s all gone.

  HAYZE

  Normal. Time. Space.

  My beer bottle crashes into Joel’s door. I wait for movement, for any sign the dumbass is in there. Nothing. He’s smarter than I thought. I stalk away and shove everything I need in a duffle bag then leave my room.

  Every time I pass his door I see red; before I can find a rational reason not to punch the door, I send my fist flying, when it connects, I hear a crack. Fuck. The door has a hole through it, with angry red blood spots. My hand stings, but I’m not looking at it. Fuck my hand. Fuck the door. Joel can pay for that shit.

  We were fine. For the first time since I met her, she didn’t look at me w
ith suspicious eyes, knowing I was hiding shit from her. Because I wasn’t. I was off everything…mostly. Okay, I was planning on it. But I only did it for fun, not because I needed it, that’s a huge fucking step.

  Fucking Space.

  If there was one word I could erase permanently from her head, I wouldn’t hesitate. Nothing good ever comes from that damn word. I go in the kitchen, rubbing my temples, thinking. I crouch down, finding the only cabinet we use. It looks normal enough, cheap-ass white cabinet, three unused cooking pans, but no one digs through it. No one sees past the surface. Not giving a fuck about the place, I slap the pans, one-by-one, on the floor and find our stash. This use to be the first place I would’ve ran. I grab the bags, clenching them in my fist from anger. This shit, the same shit that got me in trouble with Taylor, could make me forget about the pain for one night. I slide my back down the cabinet and stare at the white wall in front of me.

  What’s it going to be tonight?

  Weed?

  Coke?

  Pills?

  I clench the bags in my hand and jump up. What the fuck am I thinking? With the flip of a switch, the garbage disposal turns on. I stand over the sink, staring at the bags. One-by-one I open them and pour the shit down the drain then fling the bags in the trash. Joel can replace that shit, too. I dare him to say shit about it. I grab my bag on the way out. I lock the door only because I still have stuff in here. I’ll be back for it, I’ll come when Joel’s here, and I’m waiting for that day.

  I start the Mustang, revving the engine, I notice her fruity perfume still fills the car from this morning, I look over at the empty seat. I punch the steering wheel and pull from the lot. Blood trickles down my arm, I pull my shirt off at a stop-light and wrap it around my knuckles.

  As soon as I get to the cabin, I regret it. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have told her. Something about the way she asked, with those big doe eyes, I had to tell her the truth. I had it under control, it was stupid to go back to that damn apartment. When we’re alone, we’re good, then we get around my dumb-ass friends and I’m on edge. I knew someone was going to slip eventually, and they almost did. But in the end, I was the one to fuck it up.

  Fucking space.

  I need a timeline for this shit. Twenty-minutes? Two hours? A day? Nothing more…I won’t allow it. It’ll take everything I have to stay away for the next twenty-four hours. I toss my bag in the empty cabin, and hide my keys under the sofa cushions before pouring myself a stout drink.

  She didn’t say anything about drinking.

  Besides, this bottle of whiskey will keep me out of her dorm tonight, but she’ll be seeing me tomorrow. I’m not staying away like a sitting duck while her dumb-ass ex-boyfriend and whoever else swoops in while she’s vulnerable. She’ll hear me out. She’ll forgive me when she knows everything. She has to, I won’t give up until she’s back. She told me to prove it, and I will, if it’s the last thing I do, she’ll be mine again.