The Watcher Series Volume One:
Falling
By
Rhiannon Jean
Cover Concept: Rhiannon Jean
Cover Photo: Aboriginal Design Photography
This series would not be possible without the help of some amazing people.
Thank you to my sister for being as much of a grammar police woman as I am; I am truly grateful for your love, your support, and your attention to detail
Thank you to Carrie, Liz, Rachel, Michael, Emily and Hilary for reading and re-reading everything to make sure Lily and Gabriel’s story is the best it can possibly be.
Thank you to everyone who has spread their love for Lily and Gabriel to the world, especially my Facebook family.
Thank you to my cats, Moe and Dickens (and now Munchkin) for constantly presenting me with challenges, such as deciding to write this series or pet you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to my photographer, Aboriginal Design Photography, for making my concepts become beautiful cover photos.
Thank you to my husband for putting up with my moodiness, my never-ending desire for chocolate, and for sharing our only computer with me.
Finally, thank you to all of you for reading my work. I hope that you find Lily and Gabriel’s story as delightful to read as I find it to write. You are all super awesome and have helped to make my dream a reality.
Prologue
Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways. ~Stephen Vincent Benét
I remember the day my life stopped being lost minute by minute. I remember the way my breath caught in my throat as I noticed him for the first time, even though I felt as if he’d been in my life all along. I remember the feel of his eyes on me as if he were caressing me right there in the middle of class. I remember the feelings of distrust mingled with the nagging voice in my head telling me he was the most honest person I’d ever meet. This is the story of how I met my savior, the man who saved me from myself.
Chapter 1
After my last final of the semester, I stood up and stretched. I was almost the last one left, having to compulsively recheck each answer. I turned to collect my things off the floor and caught a glimpse of the guy in the back. Dressed all in black, hood from his sweatshirt pulled up and hair hanging in his eyes, he was openly staring at me. The intense glimmer in his green eyes startled me and I almost dropped my backpack. I’d noticed him a few times, only because he was late to class on a regular basis and stood out by dressing in all black. I’d never even made eye contact with him, let alone seen him staring.
His pencil was down, his test still sat on his desk, and I could feel the seconds ticking by. The professor cleared his throat, reminding me I still needed to turn in my own test. I lowered my eyes to the floor and shook my head slightly, trying to clear the fog that had just settled. I picked up my backpack, dropped off my test on the professor’s desk and made my way to the door. I glanced to the back of the classroom and saw those green eyes still staring at me, making me blush slightly. I rushed out into the hallway, suddenly in need of fresh air.
Outside I took a deep breath and continued to my Volkswagen Bug parked in the furthest lot from the building. The parking here was a joke, but it was a great way to keep me in slightly better shape. I saw my reflection in the driver’s side window and took a second to really look at myself. I, too, have green eyes, but more of a hazel color, nothing like the Irish green of his eyes. I have dark brown hair, cut into a long bob; overweight by any doctor’s standards, but I’ve grown to have a love/hate relationship with my curves. Really, though, I’m not special. I don’t stand out in any way. Why was he staring at me like that?
I climbed into my car and turned on the engine only to hear my favorite Blue October song, Hate Me. I sat there, taking a few deep breaths and listening to the lyrics. Lately, I’d been in a funk. My relationship with my husband was stagnant, my mother was driving me crazy as usual, and every day I mentally promised myself that I’d quit my job. I hadn’t had sex in months, I’d been unable to write anything of substance, and I was pretty sure I just barely managed to squeak by this semester with a C. I was tired; I was bored; I was frustrated; I was stuck.
Was this normal? I was about to turn 35 and I felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything. I was married, but no children. I already had a bachelor’s degree, but I was still working on figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had a full-time job as a receptionist/admin, so basically, I was someone’s bitch. Most days I felt old, washed up, and like life had come to a complete standstill.
I had gone back to school to try and better myself. I wanted out of this hole and I hoped getting my MBA might be the path that led to a better life. My husband had been supportive in the beginning, but now he was hardly home enough to have dinner with me after class. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go home or take some me-time and go out. Secretly, I was hoping he remembered this was my last final and that he’d want to celebrate with me. I’d been working so hard and I wanted him to be proud. Part of me knew, though, that none of that was going to happen. It was wishful thinking and getting my hopes up again was only going to crush my spirits. I was a hopeless romantic, always wishing for what I couldn’t have.
I opened my eyes and took one more deep breath. I started to pull out of the lot to head home when all the hairs rose up on my neck. My windows were down and a slight breeze sent a chill down my spine. Staind was playing It’s Been Awhile and my head was bobbing to the guitar strains. I looked around the mostly deserted lot and noticed a figure sitting on the bench waiting for the bus. It was dark out, the sun just having set, so I couldn’t make out the facial features, but I recognized that black hoodie.
My headlights had hit him dead on and those haunting green eyes were once again following me. I drove by slowly, heading to the exit, breathing a little heavier, and watched him watching me. I’d never had a man stare so openly at me, like he was drinking me in and savoring every sip. The right side of his mouth curled up into a hint of a smirk and the deepest of dimples showed itself. He was bobbing his head in time to Staind and mouthing the lyrics just as the lead singer crooned about remembering how his girl tasted. My face turning deep red, I hit the gas a little harder and sped away.
Chapter 2
I arrived home, not remembering the drive there, too wrapped up in thinking about the way the man with green eyes was staring at me. I’d been with my husband for almost six years, married for two, and I loved him, but he’d never looked at me like that. Unlocking the door, I was immediately greeted by the sounds of a video game blasting through the speakers. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, biting back my tears.
He hadn’t remembered. I didn’t want to have this fight again: the one where I would ask him to turn it down and he would then proceed to tell me everything that was wrong with me, from my selfishness to my weight. I was mentally exhausted and I just wanted to have a few shots, listen to some music and forget about life for a bit, not end my night slamming the bedroom door in tears. I weighed my options: I could either continue into our cramped little space, argue with him about using his headphones, smell the garbage that hadn’t been taken out, see the pile of dirty dishes in the sink…or I could call out hello, change my clothes, and head out for some me-time.
Feeling too tired to fight, I chose the latter. I needed time away from our mess of a marriage, I needed loud music, and most of all I needed alcohol. I headed into the bedroom, waving at him as I passed by the living room. He nodded as he continued to yell obscenities at the television. I greeted my fur balls who were cuddled up on the be
d in a rare moment of getting along. I had two cats, Ted and Poe. They were truly a gift from the heavens. They were sweet, loving, and had gotten me through some really rough times in my life.
After much petting and kitten talk, I changed into my dark wash, boot-cut jeans and a sheer, dark green button-up. Then I threw on my black leather jacket and black leather lace-up boots. I added some black eyeliner to my simple makeup and smeared on some gloss. I sent my friend Emma a quick text, asking if she was up for a drink. She replied right away, saying she had just finished her last exam and was ready to escape her brain for the rest of the night. I asked if she wanted to meet at the dive bar near school and she quickly replied YES!! I smiled and shook my head, thankful to have someone who wanted to spend time with me.
For a moment I thought about the man in the next room and my mood began to darken. He used to want to spend time with me any chance he got. We loved to explore the city and discover unknown restaurants and try all the cupcake places we could. He used to think my life was important enough for him to set aside the video games. He would have the house cleaned by the time I got out of work and school. Dinner would be ready or at least started. He used to care where I was or who I was with. He stopped asking questions months ago, stopped cooking, stopped cleaning, and stopped being interested in us. He was out late more and more often. He got texts at all hours of the night, but kept a passcode on his phone so I couldn’t see who they were from. He was becoming this completely different person. Only two years into this marriage, I wondered if I had made the wrong choice.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and promised myself I’d do my soul searching tomorrow. For now I just wanted some down time, away from being a responsible, married adult. I grabbed my purse and keys and waved goodbye.
“Where are you going?” he yelled over the video game. I stopped in my tracks, wondering if he had been having the same thoughts about us.
“Meeting Emma for a drink,” I said as I opened the door.
“Well, behave yourself and don’t act like a hoe while you’re out!” he yelled again. A proud smile was on his face and he was laughing at his own joke. My eyes teared up and I snapped shut the door before turning around to face him.
“What did you call me?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh, lighten up! Quit being such a bitch and take a joke,” he replied.
“Did you seriously just call me the ‘b’ word?”
“Oh my god, here we go with the waterworks. Why are you such a sensitive baby anymore? I can’t have any fun with you.”
“I’m not being a sensitive baby, I’m sick of you calling me names and joking about things that aren’t funny.”
“I know, I know, your mom called you a bitch growing up, you hate that word, blah blah blah, get over it.” I just stared at him, tears welling in my eyes and streaming slowly down my face.
“When did you get so hateful?” I asked quietly. “You used to like me and compliment me and actually want to be around me.”
“Oh Jesus, stop sobbing about everything! When did you become such a fucking sissy? You used to be able to take a joke. Now you act like you’re on your period all the fucking time, crying at the drop of the hat. Stop letting your emotions rule you and maybe you’ll be more likeable.”
“So it’s me? You’re sitting here, playing video games, yelling, and calling me names, but I’m the one at fault? I just finished one of the toughest semesters of my life all the while working forty hours a week and cooking and cleaning and keeping our house in working order and you don’t even have the decency to ask me how I am! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You! You are what’s wrong with me. You’ve become this crazy bitch about everything. I work sixty hours a week and pay for that food that’s showing up on your ass. You’re a spoiled brat, you know that, Lily? I’m allowed to come home and relax and play my video games and do whatever the fuck I want with my time off. I don’t have to be with you every second of the day!”
“Ryan, I haven’t seen you in a week, except sitting here on this couch playing on the computer or watching television. You don’t even let me sit in here anymore because you want time to unwind. I have to hole up in our bedroom and hide. This isn’t a marriage, we’re freaking roommates! Do you even love me anymore?”
“I did before you got fucking fat. Did you ever use that gym membership I got you? Maybe I’d want to be around you more often if you weren’t such a fatass! Don’t you have any pride in yourself? Don’t you look in the mirror? Jesus, Lily, you’d think you’d want me to be attracted to you! How can I love you if I don’t even want to touch you? Maybe you should take some advice from Katie; she works out all the time and runs health food seminars online. You could learn a thing or two from her.”
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open and tears running down my face. As he said her name, I could feel it start again. My body began to feel hot with rage and I stayed perfectly still, as though I were prey trying to trick my hunter. The bars of self-preservation came down hard, like those of an old-time bank being robbed. They fell first over my eyelids, hiding all thoughts and emotions. Then over my skin, so his touch wouldn’t fool me. Then finally, over my heart to protect it from further damage.
Although, sometimes the bars not only protected me, they hurt me as well. They held in the pain that sliced new wounds into the old scars that had finally healed. I told myself to breathe evenly and remain calm, though the demons inside were clawing at my skin to escape. Deep down I had known her name would eventually come up, but I wasn’t prepared for the damage it would cause.
I remembered he had recently told me if I gained any more weight, he would no longer be attracted to me. A part of me had died that day. That was the day I began staring in the mirror and noticing every flaw, every dimple, and every blemish. I bought workout videos and organic food and never went out to eat anymore. I had been working so hard to lose a few pounds, but between work and school, I didn’t have much time. I’d lost ten pounds after trying really hard, but apparently he hadn’t even noticed. I closed my mouth, raised my chin, and looked at him defiantly.
“You’re an asshole,” I said finally. “Maybe you should stay with a friend tonight. I really don’t want you here when I get back. You’re a mean soul, Ryan, and I’m sorry I fell in love with you.” I walked out the door and slammed it behind me. I walked quickly to my car and set up my playlist to 90’s alternative. I pulled up Alice in Chains, Down in a Hole and tried not to cry. This song spoke to me in this moment, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to dig myself out of this hole that was my life.
I couldn’t believe he had compared me to HER! Moreover, I couldn’t believe he’d brought up my mom. He knew what a sore subject she was. More and more he’d brought up my past, throwing it in my face almost as if he was TRYING to hurt me. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry. All I could hear was my mom calling me a stupid bitch or a fat bitch as she hit me and my little sister with her belt, a hanger, and the metal hairbrush. Just that one sentence from Ryan threw me back in time to when I was a cowering little girl. He knew that was one of the reasons that had caused me to take all those pills years ago. He knew I hated the word bitch and the word stupid and the word fat. I now saw that he didn’t care. How could I be in love with someone like that?
And Katie…how could I be so blind? All my awkwardness and self-loathing came rushing back to me. He was supposed to love me no matter what, right? Isn’t that what marriage is all about? If I was unhealthy or at risk for disease, that’s one thing, but because he thought my curves were too much I was supposed to change for him? I realized that I hadn’t been naked around him since that day. I wore my clothes like armor, shielding any of his unwanted looks or disgusted faces from my view. The rationale is that I shut down emotionally right now before the worst has a chance to happen, so when it inevitably does, I will have preserved a tiny piece of my heart. So much was left unspoken, the moment he spoke her name. I needed to drink the
se feelings away and fix the armor around my heart to preserve it from further pain.
I opened my eyes, rolled down my windows, and took a few calming breaths as I drove to meet Emma. I checked my mascara in the mirror and reapplied my lip-gloss. Finally the excitement of finals being over and going out with my best friend began to set in and I let go of my life’s worries for now. They would still be there tomorrow. I was tired of feeling sad and small and lost. For now, I wanted to revel in the sweet relief of passing yet another tough semester and the taste of a shot of Jameson coating my throat and warming my insides. My mouth began to water as I imagined that first shot.
The Watcher Series Volume # 1: Falling Page 1
