Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  “Do you need pain pills?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  “I’ll go make some breakfast. You haven’t been eating well,” I say.

  The concern is there, but I can’t muster it into my voice.

  She doesn’t respond as I shoo Cash out of the bed and let him out the back door. I crack the eggs and mix them with cheese before I pour the contents into a pan. I mindlessly stir the eggs and get lost in my thoughts.

  “The ambulance is here!” Koi yells.

  Paramedics rush up the stairs of the bus and push us out of the way. Henley’s small body is lifted and rushed out of the bus. They place her on a stretcher and start doing shit I don’t understand.

  “Where are they taking her?” I ask Cory.

  “We’ll go to her in a few minutes,” he says with a sad look on his face.

  How many times will he have to save her?

  “Kip,” Joe calls out so low I almost don’t hear him.

  “Yeah?” I turn to him.

  He stands on the last bus step. Koi stands behind him with an odd look on his face.

  “Kip, I need you to come back onto the bus,” Joe says.

  Cory puts his hand on my shoulder causing me to turn to him. His expression has changed from sad to pain.

  People are running around the area like the world has come to an end. No one stops to look at me or seems to understand Henley was just shot. Their worlds have shifted into overdrive and I’m still standing here wondering how in the hell this happened. It was a great day.

  A small hand slips into mine and I look over to see Jessie by my side.

  “Come on, sweetie,” she says softly and pulls me towards the bus.

  Koi and Joe move into the bus so we can enter. I step past them and then I see the blood splattered all over the wall. Where did it all come from?

  My eyes land on my mom. She’s slumped against the stove of the small kitchen, her eyes open, and blood seeping out of her head.

  I hit my knees, “No.”

  I shake my head and look at her again. I crawl to her and pull her into my arms. I then rip my shirt off and place it over her head to stop the bleeding.

  “Mom?” I call out. “Say something.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “Mom?!” I yell to get her attention.

  Nothing.

  Koi kneels down beside us so I cast my frantic eyes over to him.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says with tears in his eyes.

  “We have to stop the bleeding,” I tell him.

  His lips purse together in sadness.

  “We have to stop the bleeding,” I repeat.

  Joe kneels down beside Cory with a blank expression.

  “Kip. She’s gone, man. I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Joe says with furrowed brows.

  I look down at my mother and see the gunshot wound above her temple, so I place pressure on it again.

  “No.”

  I shake my head.

  “No, mom.”

  I pull her into my chest and rock her. I’m not sure why I rock her. She doesn’t need to be comforted anymore. She’s dead. She feels no pain.

  “Why did you do this?!!” I wail. “Why?”

  I cry like hell because I don’t know what else to do. I sob because I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make it right.

  “Why? I just needed some time,” I explain to her. “I just needed some fucking time, mom. I just needed time. You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to. It would’ve all worked out in the end.”

  I’m not sure if I believe my last words, but in a perfect world it would have all worked out in the end. She’d finally learn to be happy and live free without Gary.

  “Time,” I repeat through my sobs. “Just time.”

  Before I know it a man in a blue coat approaches me.

  “Mr. Paxton, I’m Leon Jones. I’m the coroner. I’ve been notified I need to transfer your mom. I’m really sorry about your loss. When you’ve said goodbye, let me know and I’ll take care of her for you,” he says.

  I nod my understanding to him, kiss her on the cheek, send her a silent apology, and say, “You can take her.”

  “Kip!” Grace breaks through the fog.

  I blink until I see the smoke coming from the pan.

  “Baby, you’re burning it,” she says.

  Grace turns the stove off and douses its contents with water. I do nothing but stand with a spatula in my hand and look on as she cleans up my mess.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I tell her.

  Her hands come to my face, “Do what darlin’?”

  “I’m living in hell,” I tell her.

  “Baby, you’re going to grieve. You’ve been through so much in the last year. What do you need? Let me help you,” she pleads as tears roll down her face.

  “Why would you want to help me? My mom tried to kill your daughter,” I say.

  “Pam was sick, Kip. I’m very upset with her for what she did, but it doesn’t discount my worry for you. She was your mother and while I understand things weren’t great between you two, I know she loved you. You get to grieve her loss, darlin’. No matter the circumstances of her death, you get to grieve her. You have to grieve her and one day you have to find peace.”

  “There’s no one to talk to,” I tell her. “Who is going to understand my grief when she did what she did to Henley? I’ve never felt so alone in my life,” I admit as my voice cracks.

  “What do you need, Kip? Tell me what to do.”

  “I love her, ya know?”

  “Hen?”

  “Yeah. Man I’ve wanted to be her man for a long damn time. I love her, but I can’t be here right now. That makes me a piece of shit because she’s injured. She’s injured because my mother tried to kill her. I want to take care of her and fix everything for her, but I can’t. I’m so fucked up right now,” I finally let the tears fall as I admit defeat.

  “Henley’s a strong woman, and if you need time she’ll understand that better than anyone, but you have to be the one to tell her,” Grace says.

  I spend the rest of the day trying to form the sentences I need to say to her. I don’t know how to tell her I have to get away from all this shit for a while. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if she was getting around on her own. It wouldn’t be so hard if she wasn’t injured. But she is. It’s not the time for me jump off the tracks and leave, but if I don’t I’ll ruin what we have. I’ll ruin everything in my life because I can’t see beyond the fucking pain.

  ***

  Henley

  I wake and release a sigh when I notice it doesn’t hurt as much to move. I turn over and reach for Kip, but he’s not there. I manage to turn over and Cash lets out a groan as if it hurt him for me to move. Once I settle back into my pillow, I see the yellow piece of paper on his pillow. I frown and the feeling of dread washes over me. My hands shake as I open the folded paper.

  Henley,

  I’ve tried for a week to tell you the things I need to say. I could never find the words until last night. I sat up and watched you sleep while I wrote this. The words finally came to me, but I realized it wasn’t the words I couldn’t find that stopped me as much as it was my fear of telling you.

  You used to tell me there was this darkness inside of you. A darkness you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. I now understand what darkness feels like. I thought I understood after Gary’s death and Beau’s shocking tale, but I had no idea the depths of which darkness can penetrate your soul.

  For weeks I’ve watched you heal and itched to fly. If I could’ve sprout wings and flew away for just a little while, it would’ve done the job; however, I can’t sprout wings and I can’t fly on my own. I can’t fly this out. I’m so lost in the clutches of the black poison that fills me that I can’t find solid footing. I lose time. My thoughts are my own worst enemy, taking away moments of life I should be liv
ing. Moments I should be taking care of you.

  My God, baby, my own mother shot you. The bullet wasn’t merely meant to wound you, but take your life. I don’t know what I would do if she’d taken you from this world. At the same time, I’m filled with regret and shame that she reached the point of no return. I let her drag you into her dramatics, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for that.

  My thoughts often take me through the scenes that have played out in life over the last year, and I have a running list of all the things I could’ve done differently. Should’ve done differently. I know they say hindsight is twenty-twenty, but I find the old adage to be an understatement considering the magnitude of the ripple effect my failures have caused. I’m not so lost that I don’t place blame where it belongs, with Pam.

  All I ever wanted was a safe home and you. It was always so simple in my mind, grow up and take control of my own life and win the girl. I won the girl, but now I can’t bear to look her in the eye. The distance between us is wider than it has ever been. You’re quiet and in pain. You can’t scream at me about the woman who tried to murder you, because she’s my mother. You can’t talk about anything surrounding that day because everything that surrounds your pain, both physically and emotionally, stems from the woman who gave me life.

  I can’t scream how much it hurts that my mother took her own life. I can’t tell you how the guilt eats away at me slowly, taking pieces of me one day at a time. I can’t tell you what it felt like when I saw the blood in your head, because for a moment I knew you were dead. A gunshot wound to the head can only equate death, and even in the height of the moment I knew that. There was so much damn blood. For a moment in time, I had this concrete knowledge that you were gone. I never turned around to look at my own mother. I searched for your wounds until paramedics arrived to care for you. I was off the bus, walking after you when Cory stopped me.

  You see, I left my own mother, dead on the bus. She came to me that day because she was too far gone, and I did nothing but push her over the edge. I wasn’t with her in thought or in spirit when she died, which is only an additional guilt added to a pile that has grown too large for me to manage anymore.

  I need to scream and cry. I need to move from underneath the stares and whispers of concern and shock. I need you to heal both emotionally and physically. You can’t do that with me around. Neither of us can let it all out with the other around, so I’m taking a break from the world for a little while. I’m giving us both the opportunity to heal without the constant fear of overstepping a boundary neither of us is sure even exists.

  I didn’t want to leave you. You’re still so weak and fragile. You’re so quiet that I feel swallowed in it sometimes. I didn’t want to leave you while you were broken, but I’m so fucking shattered I can’t help you. I’m the last thing you need right now, no matter how much I want to be there. I love you Henley. I’ve always loved you. Please know that you’ve done nothing wrong. This isn’t about you being an innocent bystander in a fucked up situation. This is about us and my refusal to let her tear us apart any more than she already has.

  My mother may have shot you and killed herself, but I still have to grieve her. She may have taken so much from me, but she’s still my mother. I’m not sure where I’ll go. I need somewhere quiet where I can work through the nastiness that clouds my mind. I knew that you of all people would understand my need to flee.

  You’ll be with me every step of the way. You’re always on my mind because you’ve ingrained yourself inside of me. You flow through every beat of my heart, into my veins, and circulate through again ensuring you never leave me. You ensure you touch every part of me.

  I’ll think of you every minute. I’ll wonder if you’re alright. I’ll wonder if you still love me. I’ll wonder if I can still have you when I work through this.

  I love you, baby. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

  Love always,

  Kip

  My tears streak his letter as I read the words. I know how hard it must’ve been to write them. I know how impossible it would’ve been for him to speak them. I do understand the need to run, escape, and find distance from the bullshit that hurts so much it consumes you. I wish I could do more than I’ve done to help him heal, but I’ve been forced to deal with my immortality.

  Chapter 25

  Henley

  The days turn into weeks. The weeks turn into months. Spring leaves the air and is replaced with a southern, humid, Georgia summer. I’ve healed and recovered air flow movement that I need to sing. I’ve heard no word from Kip. I’ve not received any type of communication.

  As I’ve come to terms with Pam and even found it in me to give her the forgiveness I hope she understands wherever she is in this universe, I’ve come to realize she was sick. I’ve searched for an understanding of why people like her are fragile and destructive, but I’ve not come up with a definite answer.

  I visit a Buddhist temple in Atlanta twice a month, each on Sunday. I asked the monk about the varying degrees of suffering humans suffer and his answer was wrapped in reincarnation, karma, and past life baggage. I suppose it could explain why Pam was the way she was, but it doesn’t explain why Kip had to suffer at her hand. It doesn’t explain why I suffered at her hand.

  If her choices were made in an attempt to take Kip from me, it appears she succeeded. I feel lost without him. My laughter is rarely heard, and a smile is something I haven’t felt cross my face since the shooting. Cash still waits for Kip to come home each night. He curls up on the rug in front of the door and waits. He whines at the door when I tell him to come to bed.

  Night is the hardest. I miss his arms around me, constantly pulling me to him in bed. I miss the intimacy that could happen at the drop of a hat between us. The burning passion I felt from him is gone, replaced with longing. My other half is gone. He’s somewhere in this world, and I can’t find him. I can’t touch him. I can’t tell him how much I love him and that no matter what we’ll be just fine. I can’t hold him and ease his pain.

  I began with an understanding when he left. I’ve escaped before, leaving behind the amps and bright lights. I understood his need to find absolution and peace. When I left, I didn’t leave anyone behind. I wasn’t committed to another person. I didn’t think about babies and white dresses when I left. My understanding turned into a sadness that kept me in bed for many days. Sadness turned into a debilitating sorrow, a sorrow that caused me to sob so uncontrollably each fit left me vomiting.

  Sorrow turned into disbelief and gave me purpose for a short time. I begged and pleaded with Cory and Joe to find him. I needed to find him so I could go to him and make his pain go away. I needed to be by his side to ease my own fucking pain. I must’ve called Cory and Joe twenty times a day hoping that one of those calls would lead to the news they had found him.

  I grieved the loss of Kip. My disbelief turned into anger that he left me as each day passed and Cory nor Joe were successful in finding him. He was completely off the grid, and the anger turned to rage and it sunk deep down to my bones. The rage fueled a desire to fight. I wanted to fight anything, anyone. I wanted to cause destruction and hit something. I needed something to absorb my blows, each fueled by my loss of Kip. I needed each blow to relieve some of the hurt and the pining my heart hammered through my body with each beat.

  “Let’s go,” Cory says as he pulls the comforter from my sleeping body.

  “Fuck off,” I groan.

  “Get up, Hen,” he says sternly.

  “I’m not getting out of bed today,” I tell him honestly.

  “No more of this shit. I know you fucking hurt, but you are not going to become this person.”

  “What person is that?” I ask.

  “Fucking pathetic.”

  “I could’ve been naked,” I smart.

  “I’ve seen you naked in a sex tape. I also know that if you’re alone in bed, you don’t sleep naked.”

  “You know enti
rely too much about me. I think I’m creeped out right now.”

  He chuckles, “It’s my job to know everything.”

  “Do you have coffee?” I ask.

  “No. You can make it your damn self,” he says and leaves my bedroom.

  Asshole.

  I follow him into the kitchen and brew a cup of coffee.

  “You didn’t brew me one?” Cory asks.

  “You can make it your damn self,” I repeat.

  “Touché,” he smiles.

  “I’m up. What do you want?” I clip out.

  “See that right there?” he points his finger at me. “That fucking anger in you. We’re going to get it out, starting today.”

  “Did you bring me a human punching bag?” I ask.

  The thought actually excites me. I can punch someone.

  “Yes,” he says.

  “That’s all I get?”

  “Yes. Go get your ass in the shower. Wear gym clothes,” he says and takes Cash outside for some play time.

  I shower and pull my wet hair into a messy bun. I don’t give a fuck who sees me slumming anymore. My disheveled appearance reflects how I feel inside. Conflicted, chaotic, and… so much fucking hurt.

  Cory stands in my kitchen feeding Cash snacks and drinking coffee when I emerge.

  “Let’s ride Cash,” he announces and my puppy does a happy dance, circling around Cory and then he takes off for the garage.

  Cory takes me to a gym a friend of his owns to teach me kickboxing. What Cory fails to tell me is his friend is really fucking hot. He’s so nice to look at and it’s a welcome distraction. The man is an asshole though. He makes me run, do pushups, sit-ups, and suicides. This friend of Cory’s, Josh, is a maniac. A fucking holy terror.

  “Great first day,” he says and offers me a smile which is a nice break from him yelling at me.

  “That’s it?” I ask disappointed.

  “You did a lot for your first day,” he answers.

  I turn to Cory with a scowl, “You fucking liar! You said I could punch someone!” I yell.