Unveiling Hope

by Jeannine Allison

He frowned, his whole face morphing into pain, before he nodded. “Fair enough. You’re right, I’d want to know everything.”

  So we sat down and I listened to everything, trying to pretend each word wasn’t ripping me further apart.

  My head throbbed and my mouth felt like it was made of cotton.

  “Essie? Where’s Essie?” I asked, suffering through my raw throat.

  Gabe and Alara looked at each other, clearly worried about how to answer.

  She wasn’t…? No…

  “Oh God, is she…?” I couldn’t even vocalize it.

  “She’s not dead,” Alara quickly said. And even though she was dismissing my fear, hearing the word I couldn’t say—dead—thrown out as a possibility was terrifying.

  “But she is hurt, Sam. Really hurt,” my brother finished.

  I looked back and forth between them. “Someone tell me,” I finally bit out, tears filling my eyes and fear filling my heart.

  “She’s in a coma. There was blunt force trauma to her head.”

  A cry left me as the tears streamed down my face. Alara immediately climbed onto the bed with me, holding me as best she could. Gabe stayed by the foot of the bed, his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched.

  I woke up with a jolt, crying out as I disturbed my fractured ribs.

  When I came to yesterday I wasn’t sure what to think. To be honest, I was still in shock for most of the day. Today was when the floodgates opened. When I truly understood what had happened.

  I’d been attacked. Fractured ribs. Ruptured spleen. Broken arm. Concussion. A busted lip. A black eye. And countless other aches and pains colored blue, black, or purple.

  Essie’s injuries were worse. I didn’t know the full extent yet because I could barely get past it when Gabe said the word coma yesterday.

  The pain was heightened by the knowledge that somehow Derek was connected to all this. Apparently I woke up mumbling about it, and now Gabe wouldn’t even let me see him. He said I needed to relax and work on getting better. That I had to stop thinking about Derek.

  He didn’t understand. Every time I shifted, looked in the mirror, or saw Gabe, I was reminded of everything that’d happened.

  Of everything that led me here. Of everything I could have done differently.

  It was easy to watch the news and say how we’d do this or that differently. Or how we’d never make the mistakes that others have.

  Sitting on the couch, daydreaming about a hypothetical situation, we all did the right things. We made smart choices, said the perfect words, and reacted flawlessly. But it was different once it actually happened to you. You were no longer surrounded by the protective bubble of pretend.

  In our heads, we couldn’t account for what other people would do. We didn’t know.

  It was just as pointless to fantasize now. Nothing would change what happened.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Turning away from the window, I looked over and found John standing in the doorway. I smiled, grunting a little when I tried to push myself further up the bed.

  “No need to get up on my account,” he said as he crossed the room. His pace was measured, but I could clearly read the concern in his eyes.

  I would be lying if I said it wasn’t good to see him. My feelings were one hundred percent platonic, but we’d been friends for months before we tried dating and it was nice to see a familiar face. Had we really only been broken up for six weeks? It seemed like so much longer.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Pretty good. You?” A furious blush moved across his cheeks. “I mean, obviously, you’re not good right now. But uhh…”

  “I’ll be okay.” I gave him a small smile before furrowing my brows. “How’d you know?”

  “Gabe thought I’d want to know.”

  I nodded despite my surprise. Gabe had only met John a handful of times, and I could barely get my brother to call our dad.

  Turned out, my father was out of the country right now. I wasn’t saddened—or shocked—to discover he wasn’t racing home. But I wasn’t angry at him either. Gabe reluctantly admitted that our dad was ready to jump on a plane when the full extent of my injuries was unknown. It didn’t take much for me to convince him to stay.

  “I wanted to see Essie too. She may be a brat but she’s okay.”

  We both smiled, probably imagining her reaction. “Well I’m glad,” I finally said.

  He smiled sadly. “We were friends first, Sam. I still care about you.”

  The room grew quiet as we struggled with what to say.

  “Derek’s been treating you right?”

  My head snapped up at his words. “Did Gabe tell you why this happened?”

  With a sad nod, he grabbed a chair and moved closer. “Do you blame Derek?”

  I gnawed on my lip, instantly wincing when I was reminded of how it was split open.

  “Part of me does,” I admitted. “I haven’t spoken to him yet and I know he would never want me hurt, but…”

  Gabe was convinced it had something to do with Derek’s fighting. That was the only thing that made sense to me. But we’d talked about it—Derek knew my fears, and he’d told me it was over.

  “But what?” John prompted.

  “If this hadn’t happened to me, it would’ve eventually happened to him. Why doesn’t he care?” I asked, my voice slightly raised. “Why doesn’t he care what happens to him?” My voice broke, and the tears that had welled instantly fell.

  Not knowing what to do, John reached out and grabbed my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  I hadn’t even realized that was why I was angry. It wasn’t because I was in pain—it was the thought of his.

  As my tears dried, we sat in silence. I didn’t know where John’s thoughts were, but mine were on Derek, trying to figure out what to do.

  My eyes were on the half-open door, and as if I’d summoned him, Derek appeared. His hair was disheveled, his eyes haunted. Everything about him broke my heart. My gaze dropped to the flowers in his hands.

  Only belatedly, I realized he wasn’t moving. He was frozen in the doorway. When I followed the path of his stare, to my hand joined with John’s, I immediately snatched it back. I looked toward John. There was no hurt on his face, just confusion.

  When my eyes moved back to Derek, he looked even more heartbroken.

  John looked too, eyes widening as he stood. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey.” Derek glanced between us. “I can…” He paused to clear his throat, like whatever he was trying to say refused to come out. “I can come back if this is a bad time.”

  Where was the confident man I fell in love with?

  “No. Stay,” John answered. “I was just leaving.” He turned back to me. “I’m glad you’re okay.” With one final smile, he walked past Derek and out the door.

  The room was silent, filled with tension and uncertainty.

  “I wanted to come sooner,” he started. “But Gabe wouldn’t let me, and I wasn’t even sure if you wanted to see me.”

  “I did.”

  He shuffled closer and set the flowers on the counter, looking as lost as I felt.

  “I thought you quit fighting…”

  Derek rubbed his head and sat in the chair. “I was. I am. It’s just… there was one more fight I needed to do. Then I was done. I’d tried to get out of it… that’s why you’re here. That’s why this happened.”

  I nodded, unsure what to say.

  “It seems so stupid to say. It fixes nothing, but you know how sorry I am, right? I had no idea they’d do this—”

  “I know,” I whispered. “I know you’d never wish me harm.”

  “It’s the very last thing I’d ever want,” he swore, his sincerity and guilt plain to hear. “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Hell, I’d let myself get beaten ten times over if it meant you weren’t here.”

  I frowned. “That’s part of the problem though. Why don’t you care?”

  Derek was silent.
And even though we’d said so little, I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know where this left us or where we could go from here.

  And these questions, with no certain answers, terrified me.

  Before leaving the hospital a couple days ago, I’d told her to take some time. To think about what she wanted. To think about our relationship.

  All of it was bullshit. I said the things you were supposed to say. I was trying to be noble and selfless after being the reason she was dragged down that alley.

  What I really wanted was to beg for her forgiveness.

  And when I pulled into the apartment parking lot after my shift and saw Sam’s car, I was going to have a chance to do just that.

  When I reached my door, I froze. Everything I wanted was just on the other side of it, and I had no idea if it was still mine.

  There was nothing else to do other than go in and face her. But when I opened the door, I froze in the entryway at the sight before me.

  “Sam?” I asked, my voice trembling. Gabe stood next to her, glaring at me. When he tried to walk toward me Sam stopped him. After she whispered something in his ear, he shoved by me and slammed the door on his way out.

  The way she was looking at me made my heart stop. “I’m going to stay with Gabe and Alara for a while. I’m leaving Rory; she’s probably more your dog at this point anyway.”

  My throat tightened. “You’re leaving?”

  “Gabe’s already loaded up the car.” Her words implored me to understand. “I wanted to at least say goodbye, though. I’m sorry I can’t—”

  “Sam,” I interrupted, quickly walking forward and resting my hands on her shoulders, mindful of her injuries. “Please don’t leave. I love you.”

  She shook her head, tears welling. “You told me to think and I have. You said you’d understand.”

  “I lied.” I sniffled, and we both laughed.

  Her tears spilled over. “Don’t make this any harder…”

  I closed my eyes but I couldn’t stop seeing it. Her broken body and desperate tears would haunt me forever. Even if she forgave me.

  But no.

  There was no even if. She’d never forgive me. She shouldn’t. And if I loved her as much as I claimed, I would walk away and spare her any more pain. She was standing here, telling me I was only making things worse. As much as I wanted to fight for her, how could I when I knew she deserved better? When she had someone like John out there waiting for her?

  I took stock of her: bruised eye, swollen cheek, split lip. Her arms had finger-shaped bruises from where her attacked had grabbed her, and there was a small, yet distinct limp present when she walked. All of it caused by me.

  And just like that all the fight, all my determination, left me.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked out, slowly backing up. “I’ll leave you alone,” I finished softly.

  “Wait.” She stopped me from moving around her. “I’m not saying it’s over. I just need some time.” Sam wrapped her battered arms around her waist and looked down at the carpet. “I love you. You know I love you.” Pausing, she glanced up at me. “Losing my mother nearly killed me. So I can’t watch you be reckless with your life.”

  “I won’t—”

  “It’s not just the fighting. It’s this quiet acceptance of the life you have, even if it’s not necessarily the one you want. I spent a long time living my life that way and I don’t want to move backward. I don’t want to give up my dreams because that’s easier, because that makes it hurt less. I want to keep experiencing that feeling I get when we play music together. Like we’re in our own world where fear and joy are the same. Where we can do anything we want. We can create magic in that world.” Her eyes welled with tears.

  “I want that too,” I rushed out.

  “I need time, Derek. We both do,” she repeated her sentiments from minutes earlier. “I promised myself I wouldn’t be one of those girls. I wouldn’t ask you to wait or—”

  My sad chuckle cut her off. “I waited years for you, Sam. Now that I’ve had you, that I’ve been able to call you mine, I don’t doubt I’ll wait the rest of my life for you. Whether you ask me to or not. Whether you’ll have me or not.”

  She raised her hand—the one not in a cast—and set it against my chest, her fingers gently playing with one of the buttons of my shirt. Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed her. But the second our lips touched she stiffened. I stopped.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I mean—I’m not sorry. I don’t regret kissing you. I never could. I—I’m just sorry I keep kissing you at the wrong moment.”

  “It’s okay.” She swallowed roughly, a fresh batch of tears on the horizon. “Even when I still had a boyfriend, it never felt wrong. I don’t think it could ever be the wrong moment between us, Derek.”

  We held onto each other for a few more minutes before Sam pulled back. “I should go.”

  Her sad smile was the last thing I saw before she softly shut the door. Her abandoned key haunted me from the server.

  I walked over and slowly flipped the lock, nearly losing my breath at the action. It felt like so much more than locking a door. It felt like putting a permanent barrier between Sam and me. The soft click was a punch to my gut.

  Turning around, I collapsed against the door, my back sliding down the wood until my ass hit the ground. Without shame, I let my head tip forward and my tears fall.

  September 6, 2017

  Mom,

  I left.

  Hope is dangerous. So fucking dangerous.

  I don’t think I’ll ever feel differently.

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  Forever,

  Sam

  I’D BEEN DISCHARGED A week ago, and Derek’s friend Nevada had assured Gabe that the guy behind all this—Tommy, the sleaze ball I’d met when Derek took me with him that one time—had no further interest in hurting me. I’d served my purpose, apparently. Everyone who fought there was appropriately frightened. And the two guys he’d hired weren’t getting out anytime soon. They’d agreed to plea deals so Essie and I wouldn’t have to testify—thank God for small mercies.

  Because Essie was going to be okay. She came out of her coma the day after I’d left the hospital. And even though they were still keeping her for observation, she was officially out of the woods. Her mom flew in and was trying to get her airlifted to a hospital back home.

  “You did the right thing,” Gabe assured me for the tenth time as we ate breakfast.

  “It doesn’t feel right.” I started pushing around the rest of my now-soggy cereal.

  No one said anything. Then Alara leaned over and whispered something to my brother. He stood and lightly squeezed my arm.

  “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go pretend I have something better to do.” Alara laughed and Gabe gave her a warm smile before leaving. I tried to muster up one of my own, but my lips were frozen in discontent.

  “I know I can’t sweep this under the rug, and I know we need this time apart.” I stared down at the counter. “But it doesn’t feel right that I left him. Not when he’s hurting as much as I am.”

  Derek and I were so similar. And it broke my heart to know exactly what he was feeling. To know how much blame he was shouldering.

  “He’ll be fine, Sam. You both will. It’ll just take time.”

  I nodded, unsure what else could be said. It seemed like that a lot lately. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words were never there when I needed them

  “Do you have anything planned today?” Alara asked when the silence became suffocating.

  “I’m having lunch with my father.”

  “Did you want some company?”

  I managed to muster up a smile. “That’s okay. I’m meeting him at the house, and I’d rather be reamed by my father in private.”

  “You think he’ll be mad at you?” she asked with a frown.

  Shrugging, I stood up and grabbed my bowl before walking it to the sink. “That’s all he ever
is. Mad. Disappointed. Indifferent. It’s a Russian roulette between the three.”

  “Sam—”

  “I’m kind of tired. I’m gonna lie down for a bit.”

  “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.” Her voice was soft and reassuring—like I imagined my mother’s would be, bringing tears to my eyes.

  I kept my back to her as I nodded and walked down the hall. Shutting the door to the guest room, I slid down until my butt hit the ground. My ribs protested the movement and I cradled my casted arm against them. Everything hurt. And the one person I needed most was the one person I couldn’t go to.

  I bit my battered lip, trying to keep my tears at bay, but it was useless.

  My keyboard mocked me from across the room.

  Today would have been our audition.

  It was like life took pleasure in ripping away the things I cared about.

  My mother.

  Music.

  Derek.

  I pulled out my necklace and looked down at the pendant. I thought of all the stories we’d read together. All the times my mother told me I’d find my own prince someday. Now it all felt like a lie.

  With tears burning the back of my throat, I reached for the notebook at the edge of my temporary desk. My ribs burned with the effort, but I didn’t stop until I’d knocked it onto the floor. I dragged it closer and immediately flipped it open to start writing.

  Let’s Pretend,

  That fairy tales really exist.

  That the only ever-afters are happy.

  That the princess is healed.

  That the prince is saved.

  That love conquers all.

  My hand shook as I dropped the pencil. I couldn’t write any more; those six lines were enough. They summed up what life really was: pretend.

  We told ourselves that true love won so it was more bearable when it lost.

  We told ourselves that death meant a better place so we could accept that our world was darker because of who we lost.

  We told ourselves that God existed so there was a purpose to all the tragedy.