In a moment I’m every version of myself from the past. It’s always the same, I know he has to go, I hate him, but damn if it doesn’t suck. I always think of what he could’ve been, but he dug himself a hole, now he can lay in it. I rise when the car eases up the driveway, hauling him away for the last time, he’s not getting out this time. He’ll die in there, and our last memory will be me punching him.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, looking through my call log. I knew that girl had used my phone to call hers tonight. She said she lost it, but I knew she just wanted my number.
But right now, I didn’t give a fuck. I needed to take my mind off things. One day girls, drugs, alcohol, the whole damn works would no longer help…I may have to end it, but right now, she’d do.
I pressed call and she answered on the first ring.
“Hello?” She said, groggy.
“Hey…umm…”
“RACHEL!” She huffed, clearly still pissed at me.
“Right. Mind if I come back for a while?” I asked, hopeful.
She sighed, thinking it over with herself. “Sure.”
I grabbed my whiskey and pulled myself from the ground, stumbling to my mustang. “Wait up. I’ll be there in five.”
She hated herself for it, but knew she needed it as much as I did. Maybe for the same reason. Maybe we were both running from something. I sure as fuck was.
6
THE DATE
The wood paneled walls were closing in on me. I knew they were. Sweated beaded up, rolling off of my forehead as I drummed my leg on the floor. I wasn’t sure why I agreed to this. I could tell her no. I was a grown man. Maybe I had as much false hope as she did, hoping someone could pull me from darkness.
My mother 1wanted to sort through my head, but she knew it was twisted. She was afraid of what she may find. So, I spent my hour as I did as a child, watching the walls close in on me, slowly suffocating.
Dr. Moore cleared his throat again, trying to break the ice. It had been awhile, but I was the same as I always had been. If nothing else, at least I was persistent.
“Your mother told me about your father’s sentence. Do you want to talk about that?”
“Nothing would make me happier than discussing my father’s twenty-year sentence with you,” I said, leaning back on the sofa.
He flipped through his notes, marking on a page, then he looked back at me. “She also said with his health, he probably wouldn’t make it out. How are you dealing with that?”
Call it irony, but each time I hear that, I feel a knife twisting in my gut. They all wanted to know how I was dealing with it, at least they thought they did. In their ideal world, I would tell them I felt sad, maybe hug them, and be fine.
In my sick, sadistic reality, I dealt with by doing so much coke, I passed out, and woke up with three girls in my lake-house.
The kind of answers I can give them aren’t the ones they want, so I keep everything to myself. While he’s in prison, it’s easy to keep my feelings locked up with him. But I didn’t know how much I cared until my mother told me he wasn’t getting out, and I knew I’d lose him.
I thought he would get better; I thought this was a big, grand scheme to work out our problems, and finally have some sort of relationship. The past was gone, and the future would be without my father. The question nags me like the memories I refuse to let surface: If this was the point of our lives, why did we even exist?
“Your mom doesn’t think you’re dealing with this well,” he said, breaking the silence. I stared at the wall behind him, my mind was running at the speed of light.
“I’m sure she doesn’t.”
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long breath as he tapped his chin. “Sarcasm doesn’t help you, but I’d like to find what can, Hayze.”
I shrugged. “I’ve found some things to keep my mind off it all.”
“Productive things?” He asked, brows raised.
“For a college kid.”
He shook his head at my response. After ten years, I knew he was tired of me, but he helps. At the very least, I sort through my thoughts while I’m in here. I don’t say anything out loud. Sharing my thoughts would be the equivalence of second hand trauma.
“I want to help you. If I make a list of techniques, would you give them a try?”
“I guess trying wouldn’t hurt,” I said.
I wanted to wish him luck, but it’d piss him off. I’ve tried things, other than drugs and randos I pick up at the bar. I’ve been obsessively reading a prison journaling site. I’m not sure why; I think it helps me feel closer to him. I feel the knife in my gut when a prisoner mentions mail time and visitation. It just reminds me that he’ll never get so much as a card from his family.
Everyone else seemed to be moving on; it’s almost like they’ve forgotten, but sometimes I think I’m getting worse. I know I won’t ever be the same. Dr. Moore is hopeful, but no one will ever be able to help me; I’m a lost cause.
He ripped the paper from the notebook, handing it to me. I took it, nodding to him and began to read over it.
“One day, this will all be behind you,” he said.
My lips curved into a side grin, “Sorry for wasting another hour of your life, Doc,” I said, standing to leave his office.
“You never waste my time. You’ll know your worth; you’ll find someone that teaches you of your worth.”
I walked to the door, stopping before I left. “Find someone? Like a woman?” I asked, I couldn’t help but laugh.
He shrugged his shoulder, pushing his glassed up. “You laugh, but in a few years, you’ll see I’m right.”
“I know you’re right. I found five of ‘em this week,” I said, opening his door. His face twitched; I know he wants to laugh at me, but it wouldn’t be professional.
My mom, of course, was waiting for me in the waiting room. At least she didn’t bring a sucker with her this time. I chuckled, I’d never find a girl, hanging out at shrinks’ office with my mom. I looked at the paper, only reading the first two requests. Go on a date. Let someone love you.
“How did it go, Honey?” My mom asked.
“Apparently I need a girlfriend,” I said, shoving the paper in my front pocket. I opened the door to his office, letting my mom pass in front of me. I pulled my keys out, ready to get the hell away from here.
“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You’ve never brought a girl home. Do you date?” She asked, stopping in the parking lot. Her car was on the opposite side.
“You don’t want me to meet the girls I spend time with,” I said, laughing. She looked at me with disgust, shaking her head. I was always honest with her, and I got the feeling she wishes I wasn’t.
Despite the feeling of disgust, she hugged me before walking to her car. I shook my head, clearing my mind. Go on an actual date? Let someone love me? Dr. Moore was losing his damn mind. I was unlovable as were the women in this town.
****
My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I was supposed to go for my weekly talk with Dr. Moore today, but it wasn’t happening. I was past the point of help.
When I left his office, I felt slightly relieved, but it never lasted. I always slipped back into my previous ways hours after leaving, He couldn’t help me, no one could.
I stared into the mirror for some time before looking away. It was odd to look at my reflection these days. I could stare into for hours and never see myself. I saw a shell and eyes without life. It was like looking into the pain and horror of someone else.
Sometimes I thought about swallowing an entire bottle of pills just to see what would happen. Maybe nature would take its course and rid the planet of another nasty, fucked-up soul.
I always talked myself out of it. I’m not sure why, but I think my family depends on me. Besides that, the only thing that scared me more than living, was dying. What happened to twisted souls like me? Did the God of the universe have pity on me for trying? Surely I tried harder than everyone else. If everyone fo
ught this hard to live, the planet would be extinct.
I slumped against the wall, slamming into the cold tile. I wasn’t sure why I snorted so much coke. I always got like this when I did; I over think things. My mind is my worst enemy, and yet I seemed to do the drugs that made me think the most.
I studied the pill bottle in my hand, really thinking it over. Dr. Moore gave these to me to help my anxiety, but he had no idea I was an addict. No one really did. Most knew I experimented with different things, which was true to an extent. I wasn’t necessarily addicted to one thing, just the ability to escape my fucked-up mind if only for a few minutes.
I popped the lid off the bottle, pouring two into my hand. I threw them in my mouth, chewing them up. The taste was no longer bitter to me. I welcomed the familiar bitter sense like an old friend.
I rested my head against my hands, studying the floor, waiting to be rescued from my mind. Something had to work. I couldn’t be trapped any longer.
Whoever is listening…Help me. Pull me out of this. Give me a reason to live. Give me a reason to quit.
7
GAME CHANGER
“Where the fuck are my pants?” I asked myself, searching the dirty room. How did this chick live in a dump like this? Clothes were scattered across the floor. I looked at the bed where she and her roommate laid passed out, hoping they weren’t awake.
I was becoming careless. I needed to pull it together. I was blacking out almost every night and staying at girls’ houses. I didn’t need this shit. It needed to be simple: in and out.
I finally found my jeans. I yanked them on as I scurried from the room before I woke them up. The only thing that was worse than being careless was waking them up and having to endure an actual conversation with some of these chicks.
When I got to my mustang, I pulled my mystic shirt on and drove from the house. The bar was only minutes from this place, luckily for me. I was supposed to be early for cleanup. This would earn me a lecture from Randy.
I parked at the closest lot and ran in the door. No one was in site, so I went behind the bar and started immediately. I took inventory of the beer before I started deep cleaning.
“Randy! Miller tap needs to be refilled!” I yelled, cringing.
Fuck, my head hurts.
When I didn’t hear him, I searched through the back. His office door was closed, so I knew he was interviewing. Hopefully he’d hire someone that wouldn’t fuck me in the first week and quit after I told her I didn’t want anything from it.
I didn’t know what the hell these college girls expected. They think they can put out minutes after meeting you, and you’ll marry them the next day.
With no one around to supervise, I walked in the bathroom. I slept last night, so I didn’t look like a corpse. But I still needed it. I reached in my back pocket, pulling out the clear sack. I lined it up on the counter, just enough to get me through the shift.
I grabbed my debit card from my wallet, making the white line perfect. Once satisfied, I leaned in and sniffed the line until it was gone. Almost immediately, my shoulders relaxed and I felt I could take on the shift. Everything was off my mind, nothing could bring me down tonight.
I walked from the bathroom, elated. I wiped my nose again, neurotically. Randy saw it on me once, and sent me home. That didn’t do shit for me. I went home that night and did more, but I wouldn’t quit. Nothing would make me.
I grabbed a box that was tossed on the ground and shoved it back in its place. Then picked up the glasses, and polished them. That was one of the many perks about using while working, I was productive.
I heard someone come up behind me. Thinking it was Randy, I turned, and found a girl. Her eyes lingered up my body. I had to hold back laughter. She was hot as hell, but she looked out of place. Oddly innocent. Her eyes caught mine, and her face flushed with embarrassment.
Her brown hair fell almost to her waist. Her shorts were short, showing off a perfect pair of tan legs. She was refreshing to look at compared to these rail thin, college chicks. It was all I could do not to bend her over this bar.
“You got the job?” I asked once I realized she wasn’t going to talk. I smiled, showing off my dimples and perfect teeth. My smile is said to drop panties around campus.
“I did.”
“Awesome. I’m Hayze, the bartender. Are you going to ETU?”
I wiped my hands on my jeans and stuck my hand out to her. She was beat red as she stuck her hand out. She dropped the shirt in her hands, but didn’t reach down to get it.
“I’m Taylor. Starting my first semester,” she said, her voice was as sweet as she looked. I waited for her to elaborate. I could’ve listened to her talk all day.
I walked around the bar top, grabbed the shirt and handed it to her. Her brows bumped into a scowl as I did this. She had no idea she dropped the shirt.
“You dropped this.”
“Oh, right, I was about to grab it…On my way out,” she said, walking backwards.
“See ya around, Taylor.”
I smiled, thinking this would win her. But I was wrong; she practically ran from the bar. I stood speechless, waiting for her to come back in. At the very least, to give me her number. I might actually call that one.
Eric walked in. “Who the hell was that?”
“New girl. Dibs,” I said.
He looked at me, repulsed. “She’s a human being, you can’t call dibs on her.”
“Well, I just did,” I said, ignoring the heart-to-heart we almost shared.
“Maybe you should sleep with her now. We wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of training her before she quits.”
I laughed, shaking my head. He was right. I had done that a time or two, but I had a weird feeling that girl wouldn’t fall for it. Her wide, green eyes were too innocent. I should stay away from her, but I knew at some point, something would go down. She’s too hot to leave alone.
8
THE EFFECT
“Did you talk to Randy?”
I cringed, cursing to myself. “No, Man, he hired someone yesterday.”
Joel shrugged his shoulders, collapsing on the couch. “Jay says he has more shit for me to do for him.”
“Be careful,” I said, grabbing my keys from the counter. “Can’t say I’m bummed you didn’t get the job though.”
“Another one?” He laughed, shaking his head, amazed.
“Best so far. Should’ve seen the legs on this one,” I said, instantly feeling guilty.
Joel leaned in, wanting more. For a reason I couldn’t understand, I didn’t want to talk to her in that way. In fact, I wanted to throw those damn shorts away, and never let anyone see her like that again. She was too pure.
“Invite her over,” he said as I was leaving for my shift.
Not a chance. I waved once as I walked to the door.
When I got to the bar, Shea and Randy were the only two there. I walked around, trying to stay busy, but I kept wondering if she would be here.
“How’s it going?” Shea asked, pulling me from my racing mind.
My head snapped up, scanning the bar. She still wasn’t here. I was curious if she would have the same affect.
“Oh…. Fine,” I stammered.
“You sure?” She asked, studying me. I nodded. “I’m going to the back to get ready. I’m training tonight. Wish me luck!”
“Training?”
“Yeah, Randy hired a new girl,” she said, grinning. “It’ll be nice to have another girl around here.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving her half of my attention. She was coming back and I was anxious.
“That is, if you don’t run her off,” she said through narrow eyes.
I laughed, nudging her with my shoulder. Shea was like having another sister. She constantly stayed on my case. “I won’t mess with this one.”
She rolled her eyes, walking off. “You haven’t even met her!”
“Did to! Yesterday…She seems nice.”
She turned to face m
e; her face twisted to confused. “Sure Hayze,” she said and walked to the back.
The front door opened. I looked through the hallways, finding Taylor walking to the bar. She looked around, shyly. She was too polite to disturb Randy, but after minutes of standing uncomfortably, she nudged a chair.
“You’ll be with Shea tonight. She’s in the back,” he said, quickly losing interest in her.
I walked up to her and in that moment, I could’ve slapped Randy in the back of his head as he buried his face in a book.
She looked terrified, like she was ready to bolt for the door. I smiled, noticing she had put make-up on and curled her hair today. Not that she needed it, but she looked beautiful.
“She doesn’t know where the back is,” I said, looking at Randy. “C’mon Taylor. Lazy fucker.”
I walked her through the cold, grimy kitchen, thinking of something to say. Each step was a reminder that we probably have nothing in common. I should leave this one alone. Save her from my shit.
I pointed to Shea and walked off without saying a word.
“I’m Shea. You must be Taylor,” Shea said, elated.
“That’s me. Thanks Hayze,” she said. I didn’t turn around; I kept walking to the front and away from whatever was going on with that girl.
I went to the bar, half-ass setting it up. Shea led Taylor to the back room, sliding in a booth. I could barely see them from here. Taylor’s brows bumped together as she took in everything Shea threw at her.
Like a fucking creep, I kept staring at her. Something about her…. Had I slept with her before? She just didn’t seem like that type.
I got the bar ready, flipping switches, and making margaritas. When I heard them walk back to the counter. Eric and Jace were just dragging in.
Ruined (The Hazed Series Book 3) Page 3
