by Annie Hughes
Dyl has been pushing away from me, from us, lost in the never ending drama of the Wade family, and his own grief of losing his father. He refuses all help from me, so I can’t do anything but wait for him to pull his damn head from out his ass. I’m losing him, and I’m losing my ability to forgive him every time he lets me down. My patience is wearing painfully thin, and I know people are noticing. Too many times Roman has witnessed me entering the black hole of loneliness when Dylan leaves. Too many times I have gone to bed alone, only to feel him sliding in next to me early hours of the morning. Too many times has my mind drifted to thoughts of him with another woman, my own brain tricking me into thinking I could smell perfume on his clothes. Or was it real? My confusion fuels my fight, making me angry at myself for being affected like this. I’m pissed at everyone. Rome, Dylan, this town, myself. I can’t let it go, don’t know how to, or where to start on finding out. I thought I was releasing it all, but I’m only making it worse. I need to switch off, to leave it all behind. I need to move on.
I’ve got Rome cornered, his back pressed against the pole and his arms covering his face as my fists rain over him. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s not even trying to fight back and I lower my arms, letting them hang loosely at my side. He moves his, too, his eyes finding mine immediately. I can see the pain there, the fury hiding behind the grey. He isn’t doing this for himself. He isn’t working through his anger at me. He’s doing this for my benefit, and for his own punishment. It’s written all over his face: the guilt, the regret, the self-hate. He’s just as fucked up as I am, broken by his actions in college. Are we ever going to get past this? I don’t hate him, I haven’t for a while. I hate the things he did, but not specifically him. It took me a long time and experience with the Wade’s to understand the difference. His return has clouded my brain, causing me to forget everything I learnt. But I can see it now. I can see it clear as day. I can understand how this life could make him react the way he did. I can see how it could ruin a person. I can see how it’s ruining Dylan, even now. And I can feel it ruining me.
“Don’t stop, Rayleigh,” he whispers, pulling me from my head. “We need this.”
His voice is practically broken, pleading, and I lose all my fight. I lose the momentum to keep going and to keep hurting him. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not this person. I don’t want to be this person. Six weeks ago I would have happily hit him again but now, now I just want to curl up in a ball and hide away. I’m sick of staying strong, of feeling like this. I don’t want it anymore, any of it. I take a step back and shake my head.
“No.” I feel a tear fall from my eye. “I’m done.”
I don’t wait for an answer and ignore the stares of people around as I rush across the gym, shutting myself in the locker room. I quickly pull my jeans out of my locker and change into them, then kick at an empty bottle on the floor in frustration. I pace the room, my mind racing as I struggle to repress the urge to scream. I slap my hand on the wall of lockers to my left and let my head fall against it. The cool steel does little to soothe the ache and tension in my head. Thoughts swirl in my brain, battling with one another for dominance. What do I do? I wish I knew. The door opens then bangs shut. I feel him before I see him, his presence causing goose bumps to pimple on my skin.
“Rayleigh?” Rome calls.
I push back against the lockers, standing up straight and turn in time for him to round the corner.
“Are you okay?”
I almost laugh. Fuck no. I’m so far from okay, it has a different fucking zip code. I scan his face as he limps closer to me. He’s going to have a hell of a black eye in the morning. Not to mention the fat lip that’s already forming. I doubt I’m looking so hot myself right now. Despite the bruising, I can see the hard line formed on his mouth. He isn’t happy.
I snort. “Are you?”
“I’m fine.” He glares down at me and I shift my stance, ready for him. “Why did you run off? We weren’t done.”
“I was done.”
“No you weren’t.”
The anger returns from his words. “How the hell do you know what I think?”
I push past him and go over to the locker which holds my stuff, silently willing myself to get a grip on my out of control emotions. I yank the door open but just before I can pull my things out, he slams shut in front of me, barely missing my hand.
“What are you-“
I don’t get to finish my sentence as he pushes me back against the wall. My body slams against the metal and I curse loudly.
“I can fucking see it, Rayleigh. I can see the anger. You’ve got to let it out. It’s eating at you, curdling your insides. I fucking know, I’ve been there, I’ve been you,” he growls.
I try to push him away and move to the other side of the room, unable to handle being so close to him. Why am I reacting like this? Why is he pushing me over the edge?
“You don’t know shit about me!” I shout.
He laughs, almost cruelly, as he rounds on me again.
“You think you’re such a badass now, huh?” He laughs again. “You think you can take on the world all by yourself. You think you don’t need anybody? That you can get by on your own?” Tears begin to pool at the corners of my eyes but I hold on, determined not to let him see me break as he continues. “You’re not Rayleigh, not even close. You’re a scared little girl with a grudge against a forgotten memory. When are you going to open your eyes and see things for how they really are? When are you going to stop using me as an excuse for your own bullshit?”
I turn away from him, his words crashing into me and confirming what I’d already began to figure. I wasn’t mad at him, I was mad at me. I have been for a long time. “Why are you doing this?” I choke out. “Leave me alone.”
His hand wraps around my arm gently and he turns me, pressing my back against the wall again. I ignore the warmth I feel from his touch, ignore the way my soul is screaming for him, ignore the way I instantly feel as comfortable with him as I did in college at first. I ignore it because I shouldn’t be thinking it, feeling it. I shouldn’t be thinking that he makes me feel better than Dylan does right now. He right in front of me, his harsh breathing matching my own as the grey in his eyes turns darker. He smiles tightly.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you really feel. I saw it, Rayleigh, back there.” He’s whispering now. “I saw it.”
My breath hitches. My mind is screaming for me to fight him off again, but my body is betraying me. My body likes him this close, wants him closer. Needs him this close. My head falls back against the steel and he moves closer, so close I can feel his breath.
“Talk to me, Ray.”
“Why?” I breathe, my own thoughts choking me and rendering me unable to speak properly.
“Because I care about you, more than you know.”
His words are my undoing as I collapse to the floor. My resolve disappears, the ugly, pent up tears falling freely. He drops next to me, his hand resting on my bent knee as I sob. He doesn’t say a word and I don’t try to explain my actions, I just cry. For me, for Dyl, and even for him. For all of us, torn apart mind, body, and soul by this life. This stupid fucking life and this stupid fucking town. After a few minutes I pull myself together enough to lift my head. Rome leans forward and raises his thumb to my face, wiping the wetness from my eyes gently.
“These aren’t because of me, are they?” He asks, as he inspects the residue of my pain on his thumb.
I shake my head slowly, watching him as he watches me. We stay silent like that, staring at each other, his face inches from mine. My mind blanks, unable to think coherently. That’s the only excuse I can think of for what I do next. I lean forward, my lips grazing his. A small gasp escapes him as my eyes flutter shut. Am I doing this? Am I really going to do this? Apparently I am, as I suddenly press harder, kissing him. He tenses for a second before giving it back to me with as much ferocity. Our mouths move against each other desperately, sparks
flying through my stomach. I part my lips, allowing his tongue entrance, and he wastes no time. My hands fly around his neck, pulling him closer and he moans into my mouth.
We’re like that for barely a minute before my mind switches on and I realize what I’m doing. I push him back quickly and crawl backwards away from him.
“Shit, Rayleigh…” he starts but I stop him with my hand.
“Please,” I say and stand up. “I’m sorry.”
I run from the room before he can comment. I push out of the emergency exit at the back of the gym, and don’t slow down until I’m in the alley way at the side of the small convenience store. I search around me, paranoid that he might have followed me, but when I find I’m alone I slump against the wall.
What the hell have I just done?
I try to organize my thoughts, try to work out where the hell my head is at, but I’m interrupted when I hear my name. I look up, unable to recognize the voice. A beast of a man stares back at me. I’ve seen him in the bar, but have never been introduced. I think he does business with Dylan, but then who doesn’t?
“Having a bad day?” The man says with a large smile on his face.
I snort. “You have no idea.” I straighten myself and brush off the dirt I’ve collected from sitting on the locker room floor. “You know my boyfriend, right? Dylan Wade?”
He nods, the smile still present on his face. “Yeah I know him. That’s actually why I’m in town. We’ve got some business to deal with today.”
I shift uncomfortably, a ball of unease dropping in my stomach. “Alright, well I gotta get going.” I turn to leave, wanting to be as far from this particular spot as possible. “See you.”
I don’t make it another step before his arm drags me back, slamming my back hard against the wall. The smile stays on his face as he leans in close, letting his mouth graze my ear as he whispers in it.
“I don’t think so, Rayleigh. You’re coming with me.”
The End.
Family Feud, Being a Wade Part Two, coming soon.
