by Beck, J. L.
And instead of removing his hands like I had hoped, he does something far worse and engulfs me in his touch. My whole body finding its way pressed up against his. This is bad, horrible, terrible. Unable to do anything else, I bury face into his firm chest and let him wrap his strong arms around my torso, as if doing so will keep me from shattering into a million pieces.
His fingers rub soothing circles over my back, and though I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying over the erratic beat of my heart in my ears, I know he’s whispering reassuring words in my ear. To any passersby, this would look like a simple lover’s embrace, even though it’s far from it. At the very least it won’t draw any attention.
After a few moments, I finally calm down enough to understand him again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Just breathe, no one is going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he continues saying and something in his voice makes it sound like a promise. Almost as if he is going to make certain of it.
This strange current ripples through me and for the first time in a long time, I believe what someone is telling me. I trust in his words, the words of this stranger I have never met. I don’t remember the last time I trusted anyone, and I don’t understand why I’m trusting him of all people right now, but something inside of me does. Something inside of me knows he is telling me the truth. That he won’t hurt me or let anyone else do so either.
In my mind, I see him as a knight, with a sword and noble steed willing to slay my biggest fears.
Knowing this, I will myself to breathe, to fill my lungs with air, and to my surprise, air makes it into my burning lungs. I blink, confused as to how this stranger has somehow managed to break through the foggy panic.
Slowly, breathing becomes easier again. With every breath that passes my lips, I’m becoming more and more aware of the scent of the guy who is holding me. He smells nice, fresh and clean like soap with a hint of aftershave that’s not overbearing like most men wear it.
He feels like home, I tell myself. Letting my eyes drift closed, I concentrate on that scent and on how warm his skin feels radiating through his dress shirt, how protected I feel with his arms wrapped around me and how soothing the sound of his heartbeat is beneath my ear.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, all I know is that I have never been able to calm down this fast from a panic attack. Normally these kinds of things end with me crying on the floor for hours, gasping for air while curled in the fetal position, before either literally passing out or simply falling asleep from exhaustion. And while this is different, and I should be terrified, I’m not, nothing about this mysterious man scares me anymore.
Comforting myself in the confession, I sink into him even farther, letting him soak up all my fears and sorrows like a sponge. I can’t explain why, but this man makes me feel safe and I grasp on to the foreign feeling, hoping the moment won’t end… but as always, I’m disappointed.
After a short time that felt like an eternity, he pulls away, not fully, but a few inches, so he can look at my face. I can’t bring myself to look at him, to look into his eyes, so instead, I concentrate on his pink, firm lips, as they move. “Are you okay? I really didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m sorry, seriously.” His words are heartfelt, genuine.
“I’m okay,” I rasp.
“I’m such a douche bag.” He shakes his head, and for some reason, I don’t like the idea of him beating himself up over this, it’s not his fault.
“It’s okay… it’s not your fault,” I stuttered, unable to grasp onto it at that moment. It’s my least favorite thing about having anxiety, aside from having the actual anxiety. It gives me away and makes people look and act shitty toward me. It puts a target on my back.
“It is my fault though…” He expels a harsh breath, and I peer up at him, allowing myself to finally meet his gaze. Hazel eyes reflect back at me, their depth endless like a forest full of trees. I want to get lost in his eyes, forget about all the bad in my life, but even he couldn’t create that kind of magic. He might be special but he’s not capable of that.
His thick brows furrow and his lips start to move again.
“Does this happen a lot?”
“Yes,” I confess, unsure as to why I’m telling a total stranger this. “I’m okay now, really… I…I… should go back inside.”
I don’t know what just happened between us but I’m not stupid enough to believe that he can save me. No one can save me. I’m doomed, forever trapped in a world of panic, of fear.
Trembling, I tell myself that I need to get back inside before my father notices that I’m gone, before anyone notices, though I’m sure I could disappear and no one would even notice.
“Okay,” he says apprehensively, letting go of me slowly like I’m an animal that might turn around and attack him. Without his strong arms, or soothing touch, the panic starts to rise, but it’s a much more manageable feeling this time, and even though it feels like I’m detaching a part of myself from him I pull away, taking a step backward. The space between us feels like an ocean and even though I want to run back into his arms, I force my feet into the concrete.
“Thanks…” I mumble, wiping my sweaty hands over the front of my dress.
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, oozing confidence that I wish I had. He runs a hand through his brown locks, that I now notice are cut stylishly, a little longer on top and shorter on the sides. I turn on my ballet flat-covered feet and start walking toward the door. Of course fate would push me into the arms of a knight, only to pull me out of his embrace and shove me back into my nightmare of a life.
“Wait, at least tell me your name?” he calls after me.
My hand hovers on the metal door handle and I consider turning around to tell him my name, to give him at least that one memory of me, but at the last second, I choose against it and open the door, escaping inside.
With my heart galloping in my chest, and the brand of his touch forever ingrained in my mind, I retreat back to my corner, and wait for the nightmare to be over. At least if I can’t have the white knight, I can have the memories of him…
Keep reading The Secret
The Vow
Unedited and Subject to Change
Chapter One
Sebastian
Sitting at the large desk in my brand new office, I sign the last stack of papers for the day. It’s still weird to write my name on the line above Dean of North Woods University, but I’m slowly getting used to it. It’s not like I never thought I would make it here. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast.
Thanks to the old dean’s sudden early retirement, my career got fast tracked exponentially. Not that I’m complaining at all. This is a great job, my dream job to be honest.
My stomach growls just as I sign the last dotted line, reminding me that lunch was a long time ago and that I stayed late yet another day to get shit done. Shoving the papers in an envelope, I move to get up, grabbing my jacket from the chair behind me when a soft knock on the door fills the room.
“Come in,” I call as I slip into my coat. It’s probably just a student needing assistance with something. The door opens and I look up to see a woman hovering in the doorway.
My heart stops… literally stops beating in my chest. All the air leaves my lungs and every thought evades my mind. All I can do is stare at the small woman standing in my office.
Shoulder length blonde hair, a heart shaped face with a small button nose in the middle, two large blue eyes the color of the summer sky, and pink pillowy full lips just begging to be kissed. Her skin is the same sunkissed shade of ivory I remember, everything about her is just like I remember… my Amy.
“I wasn’t sure if you would even remember me, but the look on your face tells me you do.” Her voice fills the room and like a needle popping a balloon I deflate. It’s the voice that does it, because it’s not Amy’s voice, it’s not her soft sing-song voice I hear and how could it be… Amy is dead.
“I’m sorry, I…” I trail
off, still staring at the women like an idiot. I know it's not Amy, deep down I do but the woman before me looks so much like her, and then it hits me like a pile of bricks falling from a one story building.
She just said that she wasn’t sure I remembered her. Which means I do know her, and if I know her, and she looks like Amy…
“Lily?” Her name slowly falls from my lips.
A smile spread across her beautiful face, and again I’m rendered speechless. The similarities are too much. My heart aches just looking at her and it’s a stark reminder of everything I’ve lost. Of everything that I’ll never be able to get back. Still I can’t stop myself from looking at her. My eyes are glued on her face, taking in every breathtaking inch of her.
“I just wanted to come say hi,” she explains sadness seeping into her eyes. “I’m a new student here. I just moved into the dorms.” She takes a step forward, closer to me, and I can’t handle it. Glancing away from her face I drink in her body.
The last time I saw her, she was only a child. Amy’s little sister, with pigtails in her hair and barbie dolls in her small hands. She was mourning the loss of her big sister, of her parents, while I was mourning the loss of my world.
She’s not a child anymore. She is all women now, her hips swaying from side to side as she steps closer. I swallow hard as she gets close enough for me to catch a whiff of her. Coconuts and jasmine, exotic, forbidden. I force myself to look back up and into her eyes. She might be all grown up now, but in my eyes she’ll always be Amy’s little sister.
“You’re a student here?” I ask trying to keep my voice even.
“Yes, starting classes next week,” she beams at me.
“Wow, thats crazy… I mean.. You’re all grown up, going to college… here. That’s great,” I say, stumbling over my own words trying to catch my footing before I stick my foot in my mouth and say something stupid.
“Yeah, I can’t really believe it myself. But I’m glad it’s happening, I’m glad to be finally out on my own. I didn’t think it would happen. but I ended up snatching a scholarship. The dorms are really nice by the way and I like my roommate.”
“That’s amazing. I’m glad you like it here. North Woods is a great school… and the new dean is amazing, so I’ve heard.” At my joke she starts giggling softly, the sound vibrating through me, and I don’t understand what it does to me. It stirs something inside me, something I haven't felt in so long that I don’t remember what it is. Shoving that feeling down, I try to compose myself, standing up a little straighter.
“I’ve heard the same.” She smiles. “Congrats by the way, on your promotion.”
“Thank you, and congrats on your scholarship.” For a moment we just stare at each other, neither one saying a word. This odd feeling overcomes me that she is taking me in the same way I’m taking her in, with a feeling of reminiscence.
“Well, I better get going. Got to prepare for classes and stuff,” Lily says, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yes, good luck, and let me know if you need anything,” I offer, but some part of me regrets doing so. I already know that I need to stay away from Lily. I should try to avoid her at all costs. Too many feelings are stirred looking at her. Feelings I swore to bury and never dig up again. She’s bad waiting to happen and I’m not about to find myself in that kind of situation, least of all with my dead girlfriends baby sister.
“Thanks, Sebastian… I mean Dean Miller,” she smirks. “See you around.”
“Take care Lily,” I call after her as she disappears from my office.
The door closes behind her and I slump back down into my leather chair. Why does it feel like I just got hit by a bus? Motherfucker. My jaw aches with the tension inside of it. I wasn’t even aware I was clenching it.
All the walls I so carefully built around me for the past ten years are suddenly cracking, leaving big huge empty spaces to let light, sand, water, and least of all feelings in.
That damn woman. Why does she have to look so much like my soulmate, the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life? Is this gods way of saying fuck you? Have I not tried my hardest to be a good man. No I haven’t been a perfect man but I’ve been damn near close to it. Did he send Lily to me to torment me?
Thrusting my fingers into my hair I hold my head in my hands. This is crazy talk, and I need to shut the fuck up. Lily isn’t Amy. She’s not. End of story.
It takes me about thirty minutes to compose myself enough to get up and finally exit the room. The hunger I felt earlier is long forgotten. The emptiness in my stomach is now replaced with an assortment of feeling, none of them good.
I’m worried about what Lily is going to stir up inside me, how my heart is going handle seeing my soulmates twin walk around campus? I only saw her for a few minutes now and it took me half an hour to recover from it.
Is this going to be a recurring thing? How it’s going to be every time I see her on campus? I decide then that the answer is no. I can’t let her distract me like this.
Once again I find tell myself that she is not Amy.
Not Amy. She’s not Amy. I need to remember it, burn it into my fucking skull.
On the drive home I let the words run rampant in my mind over and over again.
She is not Amy. It’s not her. Amy is gone.
The same chant replays like a bad pop song caught on repeat inside my head.
By the time I walk into my place I must have said the words in my head over a hundred times, but the ache in my heart still remains. In my head I know it’s not her, it’s Lily, her baby sister… but my body… my body responds to her, just as it did to Amy.
To my body there is no difference. My heart yearns for me to be near her, and it’s earth shattering to my brain. In the ten years since Amy’s death I’ve been with a handful of women, but none to which my body reacted like they did when I saw Lily today.
Stop this. Make the ache in your chest disappear.
Heading straight for the kitchen I get out a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler from the cabinet. Generally I don’t make it a habit to drink on school nights but I don’t give a fuck right now. I have to stop this before it gets out of control.
My hands shake as I pour myself a glassful before taking it and the bottle to the living room. Settling down onto the couch I start to sip on the amber liquid, welcoming the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach that it brings.
I can’t remember the last time I got drunk. I prefer to keep a clear mind, but it doesn’t matter today. Everything inside my head is fucked now, her presence ruining everything. I down the glass in two gulps and pour myself a second one right away. I can still feel her eyes on me, and my skin burns. Wrong. It’s wrong. I take another gulp.
Briefly I consider calling Rem over to talk but decide against it. He doesn’t need to see me like this. No one needs to see me like this. I’m a mess, a fucking complete and utter mess. So instead of doing what I preach most and reach out for help I sit by myself like a loser in my living room and get drunk on a school night. The world around me is spinning, maintaining the same speed but everything inside of me has stopped, the air, my heartbeat it’s all unmoving.
Don’t break. Do. Not. Break. I grip the glass in my hands tighter. Tight enough to shatter it. Tight enough to break myself. It’s been years since I wanted to use anger as an outlet to my pain. Years since… the memory pulls me under, the memory rushes in before I can stop it and just like that I’ m back there, being the old me.
With nothing but my bare fists I slam them into the walls of my room over and over again. The anger inside me so great, I don’t know any other way to let it out. It’s like a volcano of rage, erupting, spewing from deep inside me.
The rest of my room is already destroyed. I tore it apart when I got home from the hospital. The same hospital where she took her last breath. The doctors said they did all they could… but it wasn’t enough. They did all they could? A cruel smile appears on my lips. If they did all they could she w
ould be here, right in front of me.
The skin over my knuckles is gone, blood drips from my hands and paints the walls. My hands should hurt, but I don’t feel the pain… not there at least. My body is too overwhelmed with a different kind of pain, a pain a thousand times worse than any physical pain.
She is gone… dead… she left a hole inside me so deep that I know there is nothing to fix it. No one will ever be able to fill that space again.
She left a void that will forever leave me empty and alone.
Drink after drink I take trying to drown the memories I’ve been trying to forget for so many years. Amy, my sweet Amy. God, how I miss you. I look around this room and all I can think about everyday is how empty it is. How pathetically alone I am because I refuse to move on with my life.
I should be married and starting a family right now, not drowning myself in a bottle of fucking whiskey, all alone.
Loser. You’re a loser Sebastian Miller.
Raising my glass I drink to it like it’s a celebratory event. My thoughts shift, and swirl like shit being flushed down a toilet.
“Lily…” I say her name out loud just to see if it burns as badly on the outside as it does on the inside. Nothing. Slamming the glass down on the table I force my shaking hands away from the whiskey bottle and instead into my hair. Even as angry, and hurt, and burning with sadness as I am over Lily reappearing in my life I’m concerned for her. Riddled with worry.
Is she alone? Why is she here? How is she doing? What’s her life been like the last ten years? The questions stack up, higher and higher, threatening to topple over.
Is she suffering like me? Does she hate herself for not being in the car that night like I do? When she moved away with her grandparents I never once stopped to check on her, to consider what she might be going through. I’m not really sure why. Maybe I figured she still had someone to hold onto, to make sure she pieced herself back together again. I had no one, at least not anyone that would really understand.
