by Nikki Chase
“You didn’t kill him,” I say, putting one hand on his shoulder.
“That’s not the whole story.”
I know. I know “the whole story.”
“He became more and more isolated,” Gabe says. “We were sharing an apartment but I barely saw him. I thought it was just because we were both medical students, and then medical residents, so I chalked it up to us being busy. He seemed to be always sleeping when I was home.”
I remember that time. I was texting him a lot and would only get short, one-word replies. I thought he was just busy, too.
“One day, he emerged from his room. He was chatty. He was acting like his old self. We had a nice conversation. We laughed a lot.” Gabe exhales loudly. “That was the last time we talked.
“He told me he’d gotten into target shooting. He showed me his hands, and they had these little red and black marks on them.” Gabe opens up both his hands with his palms facing up. “Powder burns.
“He said his gun blew up and he asked if he could borrow mine. I told him we should go target shooting together, and he said we’d go next week, because he’d already made plans to go with a bunch of his other friends,” he says, his breathing growing more labored with regret.
“Well, he wasn’t around anymore by the week after that. He shot himself the very next day. With my gun.”
Tears well up in Gabe’s green eyes, making them appear like they’re shining from the way they reflect the moonlight.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him close.
I’ve always wanted to do this—when I saw him watch the funeral from a distance, or when my family was yelling at him, blaming him for Sam’s suicide. I know how much It hurt him, and I’ve always wanted to be a source of comfort and absolution for him.
“I should’ve seen the signs,” Gabe says. “I was his best friend and his roommate. I should’ve known better than to lend him a fucking gun when he’d been acting weird for weeks.” He wipes his eyes and blink a few times as he gains his composure.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I repeat. I’d repeat this sentence as many times as it takes to heal him. “If he really wanted to do it, he would’ve found some other way to do it.” I rub his back soothingly.
“That’s not what a lot of people thought. They saw me as the piece of shit who handed a gun to a suicidal guy. Hell, they probably still see me as a killer.”
“Well, I’m not one of those people.”
“You weren’t there,” he says.
I was. I know everything. I just can’t tell you.
“You think I have things under control, but you don’t know me, angel.” Gabe stares intensely into my eyes.
You don’t know just how much I know you.
“You still haven’t used your safe word yet, and it worries me,” he says. “I wonder if you’re doing things you’re not comfortable with, just to please me. It makes me happy, of course. But you should know that I’m probably not as reliable as you think. I could hurt you if you give me all the reins. I don’t always know what’s going on in your head.”
“I promise you I’ll let you know if I can’t take it.”
“Good girl.” Gabe smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Now, do you want to tell me why you picked me that night? You don’t seem like the kind of girl who’d just go for a random guy, especially for your first time.”
Not for the first time, I feel like I’m transparent and he’s seen through me. It’s a terrifying feeling.
Luckily, I’ve thought of a good answer.
“You got me,” I say, hiding my face in the crook of his neck so he wouldn’t see my expression. “Ever since I started working at Hill Crest Hospital, I’d been dying to see you. Some of the nurses had been clamoring about your return for months.”
“So you decided to give me your virginity based on some gossip?”
“Well, no, I thought I was just going to talk to you, but then… Then it turned into something else.” I bite my bottom lip and look up at him from under my eyelashes, hoping we can end this conversation and just get back to fucking.
I don’t need things to get any more intense emotionally. But my body can take anything he gives me.
A smile spreads across Gabe's cheeks. “I see. You just couldn't resist me, huh?”
“Yeah.” I return his smile.
Just as I’d hoped, Gabe pulls me into his arms and gives me a passionate kiss. I fight the urge to melt into his arms and give into his lips.
Instead, I turn around to face the ocean and rub the front of Gabe’s pants with my palm. He’s already hard.
I look back at him over my shoulder, maintaining eye contact as I slide my panties down my legs and step out of them.
I raise my hand behind me, place it behind his neck, and pull him close. I stick my ass out until I feel his hard-on.
As I let out a small moan, Gabe flips up the back of my skirt.
“You're wet, angel,” he says in a hoarse voice as he runs his fingers over my pussy lips.
“Yeah. I’m ready for you.” I grind my ass back against Gabe.
I hear his groan and the sound of his fly being unzipped, and I know I’ve won this round.
“Fuck me,” I whisper as he spears into me. I hold on to the rough stone of the balustrade and look out into the ocean.
I’m glad he can't see my face right now, because a tear has just escaped my right eye. It dries quickly in the cool breeze.
I need Gabe to fuck the pain out of my heart, until all I can feel is the pain he inflicts on my body, and the pleasure that's bound to follow.
“Hurt me,” I whisper, and he does.
He pinches my nipple and bites the back of my neck until I sigh and whimper.
This hurts so good.
Sam
Age: 24
Six days a week, I get up at 4:30 a.m. If I’m lucky, I reach home by 7 p.m.
I eat. I study. I sleep. And then I do it all over again.
None of the other interns seem to be burning out as much as I am. Gabe even has enough time to help out his dad, a senior attending physician at Hill Crest Hospital.
No one said medical school and medical internship were going to be easy. But I had no idea just how tough it is until I began to experience it myself.
I try to act like one of the other guys, but I think they can tell I’m different. They can see how much I’m struggling.
I don’t care what they think of me. But Jackie… I try my best to shield her from the darkness that shrouds me, except that shield is cracking. I can see the fault lines.
All those times I wear a blank expression on happy occasions. Or the times I fail to reply to her text messages.
She’s out with Gabe now. They’re watching the fireworks at the opening celebration of the big art gallery downtown.
They wanted me to come with them, but I said I had some work to do. Jackie’s sixteen now, so she’s old enough to go places on her own.
Despite Mom and Dad’s neglect, she’s grown up with a good head on her shoulders.
She gets along well with people around her, even those older than her, like Gabe and a handful of my other friends. She’s pretty mature for her age, so I’m not surprised to notice that she even has a crush on Gabe. I thought that having grown up together she’d think of him as a brother, but I guess not.
I can trust Gabe to not take advantage of her, though. And I can trust Jackie to take good care of herself.
She’s pretty well-adjusted, fortunately—unlike me.
It looks like I’ve done a pretty good job at helping her escape my fate. Maybe my time on Earth hasn’t been in vain after all.
I was planning on hanging around until she turns eighteen, but I don’t think I can take two more years of this hell.
And to think that once I finish my internship, I can look forward to the same depressing work and the same life-sucking schedule as I have now.
I thought it was goin
g to feel rewarding to help people. But sometimes I feel like a glorified dispenser of medication, like patients see me as just a supplier of service and not a person.
I thought medicine was going to give me a sense of purpose, but all I get are exhaustion and disappointment.
I feel like a failure.
Maybe it’s not that my patients suck, but I have poor bedside manners. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a doctor.
Sometimes I think I should see a professional about these issues, but that would be tantamount to career suicide. The medical licensing board doesn’t like it when a doctor has a history of mental illness. If the news gets out, it could also make it hard for me to find a job or even get insurance.
Besides, it feels weird to need other people to look after me, when it’s usually the other way around.
I weigh the handgun in front of me, transferring the heft from one hand to another.
After a lot of thinking, I’ve decided a gunshot to the head would be the fastest, most painless way to go. It took me a while to come up with a good cover story to borrow Gabe’s gun. I even faked a convincing injury.
It’s now or never.
I don’t think I can last another day.
God, if you’re real and this is wrong… I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.
And Jackie… It breaks my heart to imagine you finding out about my death. I wish I could keep going, even if it’s only for your sake. I know I’m being selfish… but I hope you’ll be able to forgive me some day.
I remove the safety and press the deadly barrel of the gun up against my chin.
It’s cold. Like death.
I’ve always been amazed by how cold dead bodies are. Sometimes, I envy the dead their peace. They just lie there, unaware of the pain that the living endure. Uncaring. Nothing touches them anymore.
My heart rate goes up, and my breathing gets erratic. My (admittedly sick) mind knows it’s time to go, but my body still hangs on out of pure instinct.
I have to win this battle.
My final battle.
My hands are shaking, but I can’t miss. Not when I can feel the cold, hard steel underneath my jaw.
All I have to do is squeeze the trigger.
Just one little squeeze with one finger. That’s all it takes to end this pain.
I scan my bedroom. This is the last thing I’m ever going to see.
But I feel no sadness. I’ve seen enough of this world.
I close my eyes.
On the count of three.
I take a deep breath.
One…
… Two…
… Three.
I pull the trigger.
Bang.
Jacqueline
“What do you think?” Gabe asks.
“It’s nice.”
I’m being honest. This is one of the best apartments I’ve seen in the city. It’s small, but stylish and well located.
And I grew up rich. I went to private school and everything. I know what I’m talking about, when it comes to expensive properties.
In fact, when It happened, I was starting to plan the purchase of my first investment property. But then in the aftermath of Sam’s suicide, Mom and Dad got divorced and I began seeing Dad less and less often, so I never even got a chance to ask him about funding any hot deals for me.
This is totally the kind of property I’d buy, had I still have my dad’s financial backing.
I was planning to get a place for myself to move into when I turn eighteen. I thought I could rent it out if I happened to, say, take a semester abroad as an exchange student. I wanted to spend some time in France learning the language.
Man, it was a completely different time when Dad was still around...
So I didn’t quite get the hands-on training I thought I was going to receive from my dad, but I think Gabe has good taste in real estate.
This apartment is downtown so it’s always going to be in demand. It doesn’t require much work beyond cosmetic and completely optional customizations.
It also commands sweeping views of the ocean from the spacious balcony. I can just imagine us getting down and dirty on that balcony, with the sun on our backs…
“Why are we here?” I ask before I get carried away by my own fantasy.
I notice the wooden floor planks have been arranged in a herringbone pattern, which gives the whole apartment an air of understated elegance. As we walk through the wide hallways and spacious rooms, the sound of our footsteps bounces off the floor and the walls.
Given that Gabe spends most of his time in Africa, he’s probably about to purchase this property as an investment and rent it out. With his family’s wealth, he can certainly afford it.
“Do you like this apartment?” Gabe asks as he puts his arm around my waist.
“I already told you. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, it’s nice, objectively. But do you like it?”
“Yes, I really, really like it,” I say. “You know, most people would understand that if I say something’s nice, that means I like it.”
Gabe grins as we stop in yet another doorway, looking at the beautiful master bedroom.
Plush cream carpet covers the floor. The far wall has big windows through which I can see the city on one side and the ocean on the other side. A pair of white French doors open onto a smaller balcony with an intimate set of outdoor table and chairs for two.
Without saying a word, I walk across the carpet, my every step cushioned by the thick pile of the carpet. Warm sunlight and an afternoon breeze greets me when I open the French doors. I have to see the views from the edge of the balcony.
“I can definitely tell that you like it now,” Gabe says when he catches up to me. He gives me a tender look and a gentle smile—he’s only making the pain in my chest more excruciating.
“I guess.” I tear my gaze away from him. I try to focus on the views instead.
“Do you like it enough to move in here with me?” Gabe asks as he joins me by the railing.
I snap around to stare at him. My mouth hangs open. It grows drier with every breath.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says. “I’m sure you can tell how I feel about you. I spend all the free time I have with you. When I’m not working, we’re always together.” Gabe raises his hand up to caress my cheek. “Surely you can tell I’m crazy about you.”
My thoughts are so loud it’s a struggle to try and listen to Gabe, but there’s no way for me to miss his next words.
“Jacqueline… I love you.”
I can’t breathe. It’s like I’ve been lassoed and the rope is squeezing my insides, constricting my lungs.
“Angel, are you okay?” A frown appears on Gabe’s forehead. He looks concerned.
I didn’t think this was going to happen.
He’s fallen for me, but this is not the happy occasion I thought it would be.
This is heartbreaking.
Because we can’t be together. He’ll hate me if he finds out who I really am, and he’s bound to learn the truth eventually. I can’t fake this for the rest of my life—which is how long I want to stay by Gabe’s side.
But breaking his heart has never been in the plans.
My chest hurts—physically. It’s like there’s an invisible knife slicing deep cuts into my heart.
Tears burn my eyeballs and stream down my face. I can’t stop them.
Now Gabe seems really concerned.
“Angel, did I say something wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head.
No, Gabe. It’s not your fault. It has never been your fault.
“I’m sorry.” My voice sounds shaky. “I’m sorry, Gabe. It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to…”
My sentence remains unfinished, leaving unspoken questions floating between us. Gabe watches me intently, waiting for me to say something, to explain my tears. His green eyes have grown dark.
I can’t believe I’m about to break Gabe’s heart.
But it has to be done.
Before I have a chance to change my mind, I repeat, “I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be a fling.” The words fall flat even on my ears; they sound fake. Almost robotic. My voice breaks as more tears escape my eyes and wet my cheeks. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, then rush back into the bedroom and make my way out of the apartment. I can hear Gabe calling my name, but I don’t trust myself to look back even once.
In the bright, spacious living room, I sprint past the real estate agent who let us into the apartment. He seems surprised and disappointed to see me. He knows he probably won’t earn his commission from us.
Sorry, agent guy.
Sorry, Gabe.
I’ve ruined everything.
Jacqueline
“Jacqueline!” Gabe’s voice sounds closer, and so do his footsteps.
I walk faster and stick out my hand, hoping a cab will stop for me so I can escape this surreal nightmare that’s made of both my biggest wish and my biggest fear.
“Jacqueline, can we please talk?” Gabe asks.
No. I won't be able to end things a second time and go through that pain again. I’ll lose my will to live, and I'll join my brother.
Tears continue to stream down my face, no doubt streaking the make-up I carefully applied before this “casual date.”
Jesus, how could I have been so dumb? There’s no way in hell I could keep things casual with Gabe.
“Jacqueline, could you stop walking for a minute and talk to me, please?” There's sadness in his voice; perhaps even a hint of desperation.
I wish I could do what he wants me to do. He's trained me to follow his orders over the past few weeks, and now it feels unnatural to be disobedient. Something deep within me compels me to stop, but I drag my feet further and further away from the one man I’ve always loved.
It's better this way. For him. For me. For our families.
If we end things here, there's still a chance he's going to remember me fondly. Maybe someday he'll tell his wife about this great girl he used to date, and she’ll get a little jealous—that's really all I can hope for.
