Redeemed Love

by M. S. Brannon

  I’m exhausted as I trudge into my bedroom. Not only did I just finish a twelve hour shift at the truck stop diner where I work, but my mother, once again, was a mess. She was passed out on the living room floor with an empty bottle of wine in her hands. So, once again, I had to drag her off the floor and put her to bed.

  I’m not sure what to do for her or how I can help her anymore. There are times when I am so stressed out that I want to take her somewhere and leave her. Kind of like what a woman does with children they don’t want. I’d just leave her, drop her off at the hospital or a “Safe Haven” and walk out. Of course, I’d never do anything like that to my mother. She and Uncle Matt are my only family, and as impossible as they can be, I love them. I want to care for her. I’m just at a loss of what to do.

  Shaking myself out of my reverie, I look around. It’s been awhile and my laundry is piling up. I’ve only been washing essentials, but now I have quite a bit to do. Luckily, I have a couple days off to catch up on house chores. The diner is short staffed and constantly offers me overtime. As broke as we are, I’d be a fool not to take as many hours as I can get. However, after the rude and cheap customers tonight, I will be taking a break from that place.

  I pick up the dirty laundry off the floor and tromp down the stairs, carrying a load on my hip. I start sorting the clothes mindlessly, loathing every second of this chore, when I find his shirt at the bottom of the heap. It was from the last time I saw Jeremy; the night I almost told him how I really felt about him.

  I close my eyes and remember the last time I saw him. Yanking his clothes off one by one, he was exposing his skin a little bit more with every article of clothing he was removing until all I saw was skin. His body is unbelievably gorgeous. He looks like the perfect male specimen. He had slight stubble growing across his jaw, giving him a rugged look.

  The thoughts of Jeremy naked light up my body, and I feel the attraction deep inside myself. My core is heating up and I want to touch him. I want him to lean down and stick his tongue between my legs. I want him to kiss, caress, and worship my delicate spot until I erupt from unadulterated pleasure. God, I just want him.

  I slam the lid to the washing machine down and hit start. I’m not sure if I even added soap, and I really don’t care at this point. My mind wandered too much, and now I’m pissed. I want to numb my feelings. I want to be high and pass out.

  I haven’t seen him in a month. He wouldn’t respond to my messages, and even when I’m at my uncle’s, I never see him. It’s like he’s gone out of his way to avoid me and for what? He felt the same connection I did, but he’s too much of a jerk to admit it.

  I abandon the sorting and stomp up the stairs, going to my room and shutting the door. I pull out a pair of shorts and a tank top then stomp back down the hall to the bathroom where I scour my body quickly in the shower, knowing all I want to do is feel the cloudiness of weed. I want my brain to glaze over. I need to forget about my stresses. I want to calm the raging emotions inside my body. I just want disappear.

  After I return to my room, I pull open my dresser drawer and pull out my kit. I move back to my bed and grab what I will need to roll a small blunt for myself. Normally, I will roll several at once and never allow my supply to diminish, but I’ve been trying to cut back. I don’t want to depend on weed the way my mother depends on booze, and I’ve been doing fine. Well, until a month ago.

  I pull out all the items I will need to feed my desire to relieve stress. I lay out the baggie of weed, pack of grape flavored cigarillos, razor blade and a lighter. I lift the cigarillo to my lips and lightly lick along the length. Next, I get out my razor blade, cutting a straight line trailing where I licked. I smooth out the paper and place my broken up weed inside the shell. Carefully as possible, I start to roll my blunt. I tightly compress the marijuana inside the shell, rocking it back and forth slightly to make sure it’s evenly distributed. Once I reach the end, I lick the shell one last time and seal it shut. I then pull out my lighter and carefully run it along my blunt to dry it. I need to smoke it now instead of waiting for the shell to dry.

  When it’s dry, I put the blunt in my mouth and light up the other end. The earthy flavored smoke bursts into my mouth as I inhale. I take a deep puff, savoring the rich flavor and holding the smoke inside my lungs. When my body begins to reject it, I release the smoke, letting out a cough. My first drag always chokes me, but my expertise soon kicks in as I watch the smoke dance through the air.

  I gather up my items and place them back into my box then walk to the window Jeremy used to frequent and unlock it. I’ve slept with my window unlocked for the last month, hoping Jeremy would just climb in and stay forever.

  I take another drag of my blunt. Then another and another. The floating feeling begins to take over with every hit, and before I know what’s happening, I begin to drift off into a deep sleep, dreaming of him.

  A light glow is shining from her bedroom window when I approach the side of her house. Cami lives in a very small, two bedroom, ranch-style house. It’s old and run down, however the inside is clean. I know Cami is responsible for how her home looks. Her mother is a whack job and it’s Cami’s responsibility to care for the house, pay the bills, and be the adult. She’s never complained about it, yet I know it bothers her.

  She wants to go to school to be a teacher or something, but after her brother died, she knew she couldn’t go anywhere. She was stuck like the rest of us. Living in this shit-hole town, going nowhere. Not for long, though. When I get my family out, I will take Cami with me.

  My arm still has the knife plunged in the side and it is really starting to hurt. I look through the window and see Cami lying in bed. Of course, it’s the middle of the night, so where else would she be?

  I lightly tap on the window, trying to stir her awake, but she doesn’t budge. I tap a little harder this time. Still nothing. Then I see her weed shit sitting on the floor. She’s fucking stoned out of her mind, I guarantee it. This means she’s had a really bad day.

  With my arm aching and my patience evaporating, I begin to examine the window. I need to get in her house without breaking the glass. As stupid kids, Jake and I loved to practice breaking into the house. We even had a lock picking kit we liked to mess around with. I’m not sure why we did it, but I’ve found it a skill that comes in handy from time to time. I’d never do it to rob someone, but it’s a good trait to have when I want to take someone by surprise. That little kit has come in handy a time or two when Matt sends me on certain jobs.

  I run my good hand around the frame of the window, getting a better understanding of the locking mechanism. Even though I haven’t seen or talked to Cami in a month, she has left the screen off, just like she did when I first crept through her window in the middle of the night.

  As I push my hand onto the glass and slowly slide it up, the window begins to move. I look up as best as I can to see it’s unlocked. Score!

  I can barely lift my injured arm, but I do it as much as I can stand in order to get the window open. It’s rickety and the wood creaks and cracks when I slide the frame up. With my good arm, I hoist myself up, trying my damnedest not to put pressure on my injured arm, however it’s impossible. Once I get half my body up, I lean forward and fall into her room. My body lands with a hard, loud thud, startling Cami from her weed induced coma.

  She pops up in bed and reaches for her nightstand where she keeps a knife.

  I stumble to my knees and advise, “Cami, it’s… it’s me.” My breathing is now labored and my body is tired.

  Jeremy?” I drop my knife and fall to the floor where Jeremy is lying. He’s holding his arm and his skin is ghostly white. My eyes start to focus and my brain clears. That’s when I see a knife sticking out of the flesh of his arm. Blood is covering his shirt and arm. It’s bleeding and Jeremy looks like he may pass out.

  “Oh, my God! What happened to you?” When I yank a towel off the floor in my room and bring it over to him, he carefully holds the cloth by his wound
, catching most of the blood.

  Jeremy then leans into me and I help him off the floor. I guide him over to my bed and slowly lay him down.

  “I need you to help me get this thing out.” His voice is soft, cold, and demanding; much like it was the last time we spoke. The sight of him in my room and the tone of his voice chills me to the bone. Jeremy’s done something; something he probably shouldn’t have. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here for help. He would have gone to my uncle’s house or the hospital.

  “Tell me what happened,” I demand. My voice is just as cold and cutting as his.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” His eyes are morphed into his drug dealer persona. I am one of two people who can see both his personalities, and I hate this one. He’s never been cold with me until recently. I refuse to allow him to be like this. I won’t help him.

  “I’m not going to do anything until you tell me what happened.” I cross my arms over my chest and stand my ground.

  “I will tell you everything, just take this fucking knife out of my arm.” Jeremy’s eyes motion to the steel. The blood is soaking the towel, and I have a bad feeling he will need stitches once we yank that knife out. However, I am pissed. He’s refused to talk to me and has been purposely avoiding me. I will do nothing for him until I get answers.

  “I haven’t spoken to you in a month, and you refused to answer my text messages or phone calls.” I stand tall. I won’t let him talk me out of this. He needs to start talking. “It’s apparent to me you’ve come here because you have nowhere else to go. So I will say it again, Jeremy, tell me what the fuck happened, then I’ll be glad to yank that knife from your arm.”

  “Fuck, Cami! I can’t tell you.” Jeremy stands to his feet and meets my eyes. “Do you understand that? The more you know, the more you’re involved.”

  “You already got me involved by coming here.” I reach out and place my hand on his forearm, pleading with him to explain what happened. “I will help you. Please, just tell me what happened. I need to understand what’s going on so I can help you.”

  “Carter and I got into it, okay? During the fight, he managed to stab me. Now get this fucking thing out of my arm.”

  “Why did you and Carter get into it?” I am pushing his patience right now. His eyes have not transformed from his evil persona, and I know I’m seconds away from him exploding on me, but I can’t stop myself. I need to know what’s going on with him.

  “Cami,” his voice is deep, quiet, and terrifying. He’s only spoken my name, but it’s full of warning. Jeremy is telling me he is losing his tolerance.

  I nod my head, knowing there is more to the story, but that will never be a conversation we’ll have. Then I think about what I’m about to do. The moment I pull the knife out of his arm the wound will bleed. He will need stitches, and I’m not sure if we even have a first aid kit.

  “Jeremy, this is going to need some kind of mending. At the very least, one of those butterfly bandages. I don’t think I even have a first aid kit in my house, though.” Jeremy closes his eyes, though I’m not sure if it’s out of pain or annoyance. “Hang on.” I abandon him in my room and go in search for some kind of medical supplies. All we have is a bottle of peroxide and normal band aids. Nothing that will address this type of wound.

  When I get back to the room, Jeremy is messing with his phone. He flips the screen so I can see what’s on it. He pulled up YouTube and found a tutorial on how to suture a wound. I look at him like he’s lost his mind.

  “Are you kidding me right now? I cannot stitch up your cut!” I shout loudly and walk to my door to make sure it is closed tightly. The last thing I need is my mother coming in here with Jeremy bleeding on my bed. Whisper yelling, I say, “How am I supposed to do this?” I hold up the peroxide and a band aid. Clearly it’s not going to be enough to treat his wound. “This is all I have.”

  “Do you have a needle and thread?” Jeremy asks, still keeping his eyes on the video, studying it. “Come on, I’ll help you. Let’s just do this.”

  He is bleeding and hurt. I need to help him as best as I can. Ugh, I really don’t want to do this. “Fine, hang on.” I leave my room again and slowly go open the door to my mother’s. She is still passed out on the bed, snoring deeply.

  I walk to her closet and pull her sewing basket from the shelf. The last time I saw this basket she was making Halloween costumes for me and my brother. He was so excited to be a bat. My mother had been quite talented with the needle. She sewed bat wings she created to the sleeves of his sweatshirt and he really looked like a bat. Ricardo was so happy. The memory makes me miss him even more, and my mother for that matter.

  I tiptoe from her room and walk to the cabinet in the kitchen. I grab a bottle of ibuprofen, a glass of water, and paper towels. Then I open the other cabinet where my mother keeps her booze. I snatch the vodka and march back to my room where Jeremy is trying to rip his shirt at the hem of his sleeve. He’s in pain, struggling with every movement.

  “Here.” I open the bottle of medication and drop four into his hand. Jeremy pops them in his mouth and I pass over the bottle of booze. He looks at me like I’m crazy and I smile. I know Jeremy doesn’t drink, I was just seeing if he was going to take it. He snatches the glass of water from my bedside table and downs the pills.

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to deal with me once I drink liquor,” Jeremy says as he guzzles down the rest of the cold water.

  “Are you ready to do this?” I ask, holding the sewing basket and vodka in my hand. After he nods and releases a deep breath, I move to my stereo and put on Young Guns’ “Stitches” and let out a snicker. Jeremy rolls his eyes and readjusts his sore arm.

  “Here.” I point to the floor. “Sit down here and lean against the bed.”

  He obliges, slowly sitting on the carpet. He stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles, trying to get as comfortable as possible. I sit beside him and look at the knife sticking from his arm. How am I going to pull this from his arm? I’m not sure I have the guts to do this, knowing it will hurt and blood will begin to seep from the wound. At that point, I will have to sew it with a needle and thread. This is going to suck, yet a brilliant plan starts to form—a plan of distraction.

  This might not be too bad after all, I think inwardly as a devious smile stretches across my face.

  Cami sets down the bottle of vodka and basket next to her. She is sitting cross-legged next to me, staring at my arm. I wish she’d just get it over with. I am ready for this fucking thing to get out of my arm. Then a wicked smile spreads across her cheeks. Oh, fuck, what have I asked her to do? She looks elated, almost too elated, and I have a feeling she is going to get great pleasure in making me writhe in pain.

  When she hops up on her knees and climbs onto my lap, straddling me, her knees go on either side of my legs and I can feel her core heating my dick. I look at her like she’s lost her mind, yet I don’t want her to move. I like the feel of her body wrapped around mine. She looks a little disheveled, but she’s still amazingly gorgeous in her white tank top and light pink shorts. They are short enough that, if she were to bend over, the bottom of her ass would peek out. And her ass is breathtaking when it’s clothed, therefore the thought of seeing it naked awakens me.

  Leaning forward, she pushes her tits into my chest. Her face then comes dangerously close to mine, so I can feel her minty breath on my face. She leans down, pressing her forehead to mine. We’ve never been this close and I know what’s about to happen. It’s not what we should be doing. I can’t cross this line with her. Not only is it forbidden, but after what I did to Carter, it would put her in more danger than she already is in if anyone were to find out. The Rykers will be after me once they find out, and if we were to cross that line, ultimately, they’ll be after her as well.

  I open my mouth to protest, wanting to push her away, when she whispers, “Are you ready?”

  I keep my eyes solely trained on hers, finding myself getting lost inside her cho
colate gaze, and once I do, the pain starts to leave my body. She is that peaceful part of me. A part I’ve been missing for many years. With one look at Cami, a calming effect begins to subdue me. She’s searching through all my darkness and finding the man I used to be. The man I really always wanted to be before Sulfur Heights turned me into the monster I am.

  I nod my head and feel her hand slip up my injured arm. Like a flash of lightening, Cami crashes her lips to mine, and before I can protest, incredible pain rips through my body as Cami yanks the knife from my arm. When I release a groan into her mouth but keep my lips firmly pressed to hers, she gives me igniting pleasure right before she invokes pain on me. What’s worse, like the sick fuck I am, I can’t help being turned on.

  With my good arm, I push my hand against the base of her neck, taking more of her into my mouth. Our tongues touch and dance as we consume one another with our kiss.

  The sexual tension has been building between us for some time, and that night, one month ago, I realized how much I want Cami—physically, emotionally and mentally. I want to consume her thoughts, control her body, and make her mine. I was just too scared to act on it.

  As the hunger inside of me releases, I whip Cami off my body and tackle her with my own. She opens her legs, wrapping them tightly around my hips, connecting me with her body.

  My dick is like steel behind my zipper as I rock my hips forward, digging it into her womanly flesh. She embraces it and lets out a deep moan of pleasure. I keep my lips attached to hers as we kiss deep and hard. Her mouth is warm and her body is ready. I’m ready. I need to make her mine more than I need anything right now in my life. I need her to be mine. Nothing else matters. Not our safety, not what happened with Carter, not her uncle, or drugs, or my family, not Presley’s overdose. Nothing else fucking matters except claiming Cami as my own. I will claim her as mine.