Black Tangled Heart

by Samantha Young

  “Anyone passes on the street and looks in, they’ll see me fucking you, baby,” I panted. “They’ll see how much you love taking my dick.”

  Just with those words, she shuddered against me as she climaxed.

  It only took a couple more drives inside her and I followed her into heaven.

  Grabbing her by the nape, I kissed her deep and wet, already needing her again. Gathering her in my arms, I carried her upstairs to my room and laid her down on our bed. As we kissed and petted and caressed, I felt her wet on my fingers and lost myself in her all over again.

  I made love to her, our eyes locked, gliding gently in and out of her beautiful body, lost in our private world. “Jane, I’m coming, baby,” I huffed against her lips, and slipped my hand between us to help her reach climax before me.

  Not too much later, she came, gasping my name against my mouth. I kissed her deep and hungry as I throbbed inside her.

  “Jesus Christ!” Someone hammered against my bedroom door seconds after I melted into Jane. “Is that all you two ever do?”

  My girl tensed at Skye’s interruption. Maybe because of the irritation in my big sister’s tone, or the humiliation of her overhearing us, or the fact that my sister sounded like she was slurring.

  “Fuck.”

  We heard something fall in the hall seconds before Skye’s bedroom door slammed. Jane stared at me wide-eyed.

  “You okay?” Anger coursed through me.

  “Jamie … was she … did she sound …”

  “Drunk?” I gently eased out of Jane and launched off the bed. “Yeah, she did. Wait here.”

  “Maybe you should give her some time.” Jane sat up as I pulled on my underwear and jeans.

  “Time?” I cut my girlfriend an incredulous look. “It’s Christmas Eve. Lorna’s home. And Skye decides now is the time to fall off the wagon?”

  “Jamie—”

  “No, if she’s drunk, I’m driving her straight to rehab. Wait here.”

  I shook with adrenaline as I marched out of my room. One second, everything in my world was good. School was great, Lorna and I were cool, and while I’d been a little worried about Skye, it wasn’t to the point it could eclipse the bliss of making love to my girl after several days of going without.

  Until now.

  “Fuck my life,” I muttered.

  I knocked on Skye’s bedroom door. Getting no response, I charged right in.

  Shit, her room was a mess. Her clothes were strewn everywhere and there was a musty smell as though she hadn’t aired it out in days. Hearing a noise from the bathroom, I rounded the bed and came to an abrupt halt at the open bathroom door.

  Skye was bent over the sink, snorting white powder.

  She blinked rapidly as she stood up straight and leaned into the mirror to wipe that shit off her nostrils.

  Fury and worry and despair held me in place.

  What the hell could I do?

  How was I going to keep her clean if she was determined not to be?

  Don’t give up. It’s not time to give up.

  She is not Mom.

  Skye turned toward the door and stopped when she saw me.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Emotion choked me. “Skye …” My voice was hoarse.

  Moving toward me, she stumbled. Was she drunk too? Remembering the last time she’d had so much to drink and so much fucking coke she’d given herself a heart attack, I moved to steady her. I needed to stay calm. “Skye, how much have you had to drink?”

  “I dunno.” She shrugged, holding on to me as I led her to the bed. “A lot, maybe.”

  “And how much coke?”

  She waved her finger at me. “I just got it. Treenie gave it to me before she dropped me off.”

  I didn’t know who Treenie was, but it was the last time she was getting near my sister. “Okay, up, let’s go.”

  “Where are we going? Are you mad?”

  “I’m disappointed.”

  “Ugh, that’s worse.”

  “Come on.” I put my arm under her and helped her out of her room.

  Jane was waiting in the hall, dressed, eyes round with worry. “What’s going on?”

  “Doe, run out to the car. You’re going to drive.”

  I didn’t need to say anything else. My girl knew where we were going.

  Skye kept asking as we drove, but I distracted her. By the time I had her in the ER, it was too late for her to do anything about it.

  Thankfully, nothing happened. The docs kept a watch on her overnight, while Jane, Lorna, and I spent Christmas at her bedside in the hospital.

  When they discharged Skye the next day, I let her convince me she could get clean again on her own. That she didn’t need rehab, she just needed to go back to her AA meetings and get back in touch with Sheridan.

  Skye was so convincing. So contrite. So determined.

  I gave in.

  Not long later, I’d question that decision over and over again.

  10

  JANE

  Eighteen years old

  I couldn’t stop shaking.

  It felt like my bones were rattling with the force of it.

  Nausea covered my skin in a cold sweat, but I’d already thrown up the contents of my stomach as well as bile. There was nothing left to eject.

  Staring at the phone in my hands, I wondered how I was supposed to do this.

  It didn’t feel real.

  I’d felt anguish before.

  I’d felt grief, way too young to know how to deal with it.

  This was different.

  This wasn’t just my pain. It was … his.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Would you like us to make the call, Ms. Doe?”

  Swiping at the tears that rolled in continuous tracks down my face was pointless. They kept coming; I kept brushing them away. The police officer who’d spoken was gazing down at me, his expression kind, capable.

  Instead of his dark eyes, I saw Jamie’s ocean ones.

  Yesterday morning, I’d dropped him off at the university where he was meeting his teammates. They were heading to the airport together to catch their flight to San Francisco. Usually, I went to as many of Jamie’s track meets as possible to support him, but I couldn’t afford a flight to San Francisco. And I had a paper to finish for art history.

  Jamie had kissed me goodbye and then before he’d gotten out of the car, he’d turned to me and said, “If you get Skye to talk to you, my love for you will turn to adoration.”

  “You already adore me,” I replied.

  “True.” He grinned, but his smile fell quickly. “Just keep an eye out while I’m gone this weekend. She’s so goddamn secretive lately.”

  “Jamie, she’s been going to her meetings and talking with Sheridan every day.”

  “I know. I just … my gut keeps telling me something isn’t right.”

  Considering this, I nodded. “Always trust your gut. I’ll keep an eye out.”

  He kissed me again, told me he loved me, and hopped out of his car.

  Back at the house, I found Skye at the dining table, sipping coffee and reading a magazine. She wasn’t home a lot lately, and free weekends for her were rare.

  Sitting down beside her with my coffee, I stared at her magazine, trying to think of something to say. Jamie was right. Skye was secretive and distant. After the last trip to the ER, Lorna had taken off for school early. She said she had no patience for her sister’s “bullshit weakness” and wouldn’t be back until “it was over.”

  “And you said I’m the one who’s like Mom,” Lorna had said to Jamie.

  I didn’t need to ask what she’d meant. Jamie had told me a lot of stories about his mom over the past eighteen months we’d been dating. Among being mentally and emotionally manipulative with her kids, she’d also been an alcoholic.

  Frankly, I was glad Lorna was gone. Skye didn’t need her sister’s toxic attitude. She needed understanding and support from the
people who loved her.

  Yet, I was afraid it was Lorna’s rejection that was the root cause of Skye’s current solemnity.

  “Talk to me.”

  Skye glanced up from the magazine. She sighed and pushed the magazine toward me, flipping the pages. She’d left it open on a particular page.

  One that featured an unflattering shot of Skye coming out of her AA meeting. The words “BACK IN REHAB ALREADY?” were printed across the top of the image.

  I swallowed hard, hurting for her. “Skye, I’m sorry. Does your producer know?”

  She gave a brittle nod. “I promised them I’m on top of it. I’m not fired.”

  “Good,” I murmured. What was I supposed to say? “No one pays attention to this crap.”

  Her lips twitched, but the amusement didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t. Many people do.” Tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t want Lorna’s friends at school seeing it.”

  Ah.

  I got up from my seat and rounded Skye, sliding my arms around her and resting my chin on the top of her head. She gripped tight to my arms. “Lorna loves you.”

  “Does she?” Skye whispered. “It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I lost her … and I felt that way before Christmas.”

  “She’s just finding her feet at Columbia and wrapped up in her own little world right now.” I came around to her side, lowering to my haunches to smile reassuringly up at her. “Lorna loves you best of all, Skye. She’s just not very good at showing it sometimes.”

  Skye nodded, sniffling. “I just miss her. Sometimes I wonder if I miss her, or if I miss the kid she used to be. When we’d dance around the apartment and she’d look at me like I was Wonder Woman.” She glanced away in apparent embarrassment. “Kids grow up, I guess. They start to see reality and it’s a bitter disappointment, huh?”

  “No, you know it’s not like that with Lorna,” I chided. “You are not a disappointment. Skye, you gave me a home. A family. You gave Lorna and Jamie the home they deserved and opportunities they never would’ve had without you. They know that. You are the best big sister anyone could ask for. And the best big sister I never even dreamed I’d one day have.”

  Her eyes widened with hope.

  “You’re just human. And we make mistakes. But no matter how many times you need it, I will be here to hold your hand. That’s what you do for the people you love.”

  More tears slipped down Skye’s cheeks as she reached out to clasp my face in her hands. “What did I ever do to deserve you, kid?”

  “We deserve each other.”

  “Do you mean it? You’ll be there, no matter what?”

  “Absolutely.” A thought occurred to me and I stood, crossing the room to my phone. “I think we need a little pick-me-up.” I scrolled through Spotify and found the track I wanted.

  “The Whole of the Moon” by the Waterboys played.

  Skye gave me a sad smile but didn’t get to her feet.

  “Come on.” I danced into the middle of the room. “It’ll make you feel better!”

  With a huff of laughter, Skye got to her feet. I grabbed her hand and forced her into a twirl. It took a verse and chorus, but soon we danced energetically around the room, shouting the lyrics at each other.

  When the song ended, we collapsed on the couch laughing, and I felt some uneasiness shift off my chest. Rolling my head to the side, I smiled at Skye.

  Her return smile was filled with love, but still a lot of melancholy.

  “I think I’m going to see if I can get time off work,” she said, her voice soft in the now-quiet room. “I need a real break. I’ve always wanted to go back to Monterey after we shot there during season four of The Sorcerer. Maybe I could rent a place for a few weeks. I was even”—she shot me an embarrassed grin—“thinking I could try screenwriting.”

  Excited that Skye was talking about things that would give her focus and direction, I nodded eagerly. “That sounds amazing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

  She patted my knee. “Thanks, kid.”

  “What are your plans today?”

  “You got time to grab some lunch?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon in town, eating out and window shopping. I texted Jamie that everything was good and wished him luck at his meet. I sent him a snap of me and Skye trying on ridiculous hats. He replied with three words: “I love you.”

  Skye saw and rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, I can’t even believe Jamie is the same person when he’s around you. You know,” she said, sighing a little shakily, “I used to worry that you guys were a little too intense. But now I envy you.” She squeezed my hand. “What you two have is miraculous. Never let go of it.”

  “I have no intention of letting go,” I promised.

  By the time we returned home, it was evening, and Skye looked exhausted. I knew she was having a harder time than she let on, so when she excused herself for an early night, I understood. I curled up on the sofa with my laptop and worked on my paper.

  Sunlight bursting through the windows woke me the next morning. I realized I’d fallen asleep on the couch. After I showered, I decided to see if Skye was awake and whether she wanted breakfast. I wasn’t the best cook, but I was getting better, and I wanted this weekend to be a good one for my pseudo-big sister.

  I could bring her a little breakfast in bed if it would cheer her up.

  There was no reply when I knocked on her door, so I pushed it open and called out her name.

  Seeing her lying above the duvet in the dim light of the room, my pulse raced.

  “Skye?”

  No response.

  “Skye.” I was a little louder.

  Not even a twitch.

  I searched for the light switch and heard it click a millisecond before light flooded the room.

  Skye was sprawled across the top of the bed, her arm dangling over the side.

  There was something unnervingly still about her.

  Fear climbed up my legs, making my knees shake. “Skye?”

  Somehow, I forced myself to come unstuck from the door, and I almost stumbled into the bed as I neared it. My attention caught on the pill bottle by her bedside table before returning to her.

  Her chest wasn’t moving.

  “Skye?” I grabbed her, the fear now terror as I felt how cold she was. How stiff. I sobbed. “Skye!” I cried, shaking her.

  But she wouldn’t wake up.

  She wouldn’t wake up!

  “SKYE!”

  “Ms. Doe,” the police officer’s voice brought me back into the hospital corridor. “Would you like us to make the call for you?”

  I shook my head. It hurt to move it. “No.”

  I fumbled with the phone in my hand and swiped the edge of the screen for my speed-dial numbers.

  What did I tell him?

  “I don’t know what to tell him,” I muttered under my breath.

  It wasn’t deliberate.

  I knew that. I knew that, even though we wouldn’t get the coroner’s report for days.

  She’d been making plans for her future. It wasn’t deliberate.

  Jamie picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey, Doe, I’m just about to race, can I call you back?”

  “Jamie.” His name came out on a sob.

  He was silent a moment, then his voice was frantic as he asked me what was wrong.

  “You need to come home,” I cried. “Jamie, you need to come home.”

  “You’re scaring the shit out of me. What’s going on?”

  I took in a shuddering breath that caused something to rattle audibly from inside me. “Skye … I’m so sorry. Baby, Skye is gone. She … she died, Jamie. She’s dead.”

  11

  JANE

  Eighteen years old

  Gazing out the window, I watched as Lorna hugged Jamie goodbye.

  I’d stayed inside the house because my ex-best friend had made it cl
ear my presence was not appreciated.

  The last ten days had been a blur. I wish I could say that grief had numbed me to any other emotion, but I couldn’t. Anger played center stage. Anger at Skye. At Lorna.

  And mostly at myself.

  I didn’t want to be angry at Skye.

  She hadn’t meant to go away.

  Waiting five days for the coroner’s report was the most excruciating wait of our lives. Jamie was a mess. Despite the way he clung to me through the night, there was this mile-high wall around him I couldn’t scale. I understood that no matter how we all might be in agony together, grieving was a solitary journey. No one else could do it for you. Though someone might mourn at your side, that didn’t mean they were mourning the same way you were.

  I knew Jamie.

  I knew he was a writhing ball of devastation, loss, anger, and guilt. Moreover, for those five days, there was the terror. That maybe it hadn’t been an accident. That someone we loved was in extreme pain, and we didn’t look deep enough below the surface to clue in.

  During those days, I clung to one of my last conversations with Skye, and Jamie made me repeat it word for word over and over again, finding solace in it. His sister had been making plans for the future, that much was certain.

  It had been an accident.

  Raiding her bathroom, we found pills that substantiated that belief.

  And the coroner’s report corroborated my gut feeling.

  Skye had gotten her hands on a friend’s prescription medication. We hadn’t known it, but she was taking two different antianxiety meds. That day she’d not only taken those meds, she’d taken painkillers, and something to help her sleep. She died of acute intoxication. An accidental overdose.

  There were days as I pondered a future of never seeing her again that I wondered if I could survive the physical sorrow crushing my chest. Then I’d look at Jamie, his face drawn, dark circles under his eyes, those beautiful eyes dim—the light gone out—and my suffering would increase by a million as I took on his. I wished I could bear the weight of this loss for the both of us. Knowing I never could devastated me.

  The powerlessness was almost as agonizing as the grief.