Chaos (Blackwell Bayou Series Book 1)

by Chelle C. Craze

  Mom: I wish you would answer. Just once. I really needed you today.

  Mom: Today was hard.

  Mom: I miss them, too, ya know?

  Me: I’m sorry. I miss you, too.

  I typed my response, but never hit the send button. Instead, I erased each letter and didn’t reply. Mom and Jaxson hurt, too. One of my biggest regrets would always be the pain I knew I caused them by leaving.

  Each inch of tape spread across the top of a box took away my breath, until eventually I found myself fighting for air. It was as if sealing them meant I was giving up on Noah. On the life we’d built together.

  As Jaxson loaded the last of the boxes marked “Noah” into the back of Dad’s pickup, my palm flattened against my chest as reality suffocated me and became more than I could handle. I loved Mom and Jaxson so much, but moving back in with them felt as though I was betraying Noah. This was our home. I didn’t want to store his things in the attic for safekeeping. Instead, I wanted to rip open every damn box and string his toys throughout the apartment as he had them. All of this felt wrong. I didn’t know how to deal with it. Any time I touched a box or a doorknob, memories of Noah flooded my mind and I got lost in the past again.

  I was lost. Although Mom and Jaxson, people I loved, were here moving around me, I didn’t feel like I even existed. As if my body was present, but my mind had fled. I was going through the motions, but not giving into the emotions required in this particular situation.

  Mom’s fingers tightened around my side as she pulled me to her. “It’s time,” she whispered in a soft tone and forced a smile. “We’ll be right back.”

  “I love you all,” I admitted to them as I closed the door after setting a box onto Jaxson’s lap.

  Tears of regret stung my eyes as they trickled from my ducts and down my face. I wasn’t ready to forget us. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe. Each breath I took was a reminder of how I failed Noah. Every day of our lives I’d promised him forever and always, on some days multiple times. I’d promised to protect him. Both were now lies. I didn’t protect him any more than I had my dad, and our forever was much shorter than I had ever imagined.

  Running my finger up the doorframe, I carefully let my fingertip rise and fall over the grooves I’d carved into the molding to mark Noah’s growth over the years. When I made the first indention into the wood, I knew I wouldn’t get my security deposit back, but I didn’t care then, and I sure as hell didn’t care now.

  I wasn’t ready to let go. Pulling my keys from my pocket, I rammed the end of the car key behind the molding and pried it away from the wall, paneling nails and all. I wasn’t going to take anything else, other than this and enough clothes for a week. As fast as possible, I shoved an armful of clothes into a duffle bag and slipped the pair of flip-flops by the door onto my feet, knowing I didn’t have time to look for something more suitable for running.

  “Forever and always,” I cried and shook my head, hating how stupidly naïve I was to believe that statement. I locked the door, slipped the apartment key off the ring, and dropped it into the mailbox beside the door. I knew Mom and Jaxson would hate me for leaving, but I couldn’t stay. I didn’t know how to.

  11

  The Dick

  Days 16, 17, and 18

  She not only ate my pancakes. She. Fucking. Pinched. Me! I thought us both to be adults, not back in the days of middle school. To think, I actually thought we had come to an unspoken agreement and were nearing something new. No. She met my hateful actions and raised the bar with pain.

  No matter how deep my hatred for blueberries ran, I would have eaten the last bite of the wretched pile of shit if the owner hadn’t come to the table and told me to leave. In an attempt to keep her from enjoying what she was eating, I took the fork from her mouth every chance I got. After the cook, whom I learned was also the owner, came to the table, I threw a fifty onto the table, walked out, and hadn’t returned.

  I had no idea why someone eating something I didn’t want in the first place was so infuriating, but it was. It pissed me off.

  I cracked open a bottle of beer…or five…and maybe I had a few more after that. I wanted to forget her altogether, along with the rest of the world.

  12

  Eris

  When he stumbled through the door last night, reeking of beer, I was glad it was closing time. Everyone had left, except for Ray and me, thankfully. I was sure if Sam had been there, he would have called the cops out of sheer principle or beaten him to near death. Sam usually handled his own business, but if there was a crowded restaurant, like there was the other day, he tried not to lose his cool. If that guy who grabbed my arm had argued at all, Sam would have called the cops, only because there were so many people in the diner.

  In three long strides, he was in front of me, and I wasn’t sure how he didn’t fall on top of me, given the amount of weaving he was doing.

  “No. Pancakes. Please,” he said as he smoothed down my wild blonde hair I had just removed from a nine-hour bun.

  “Okay,” was the only audible word I could form, noticing his kind demeanor and the way his eyes were pleading me for forgiveness.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you some coffee,” Ray said, helping my bearded…well, I didn’t know what to refer to him as. Some people crossed into your life when you least expected them to, and often it was the unexpected ones to make the biggest impact.

  In almost three weeks, I’d felt myself hate this man, long for him, and now at his drunkest, I found that I needed him. Yesterday, I denied I missed him. Today, I tried not to see him. I saw through his thick exterior, and I liked who he was a little too much to admit, so I didn’t.

  He leaned his elbows onto the table and then pulled a napkin from the holder.

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” I said sincerely, knowing it needed to be said.

  He squinted one eye a tad and one laugh piped from between his lips.

  “You were a shit.”

  My mouth opened to respond, but I held a finger up.

  “I was an ass.” He fiddled with the napkin and pulled the pen from my shirt. “You’re flawless and I didn’t want to ruin that,” he admitted.

  He wrote, “I’m sorry ~Drex”.

  I had never heard the name Drex in my life, but it fit him. It seemed harsh, yet beautiful.

  I flipped the napkin over and wrote, “Me 2 ~Eris”.

  He smiled and I felt him breathe the smallest amount of hope into my body.

  Ray brought Drex’s coffee and set it onto the bar, scooting it within Drex’s reach. Drex lifted it to his eye level and slowly peered into the cup, his eyebrows dramatically rising and falling.

  “See, Eris. No cream!” he said after a moment of silence, putting it in front of my face, the steam traveling up my cheeks.

  I jumped at the sound of his deep voice and then laughed. “I know. I know. You like it black,” I said through a smirk.

  “I know you do.” His eyes narrowed, and his nose wrinkled.

  We three laughed, remembering the awful amount of cream I’d put into his coffee a few days before.

  Neither of us spoke another word, which was fine with me, because given our track record so far, it would probably be hateful or spiteful.

  Drex drank a few sips of his coffee and then started nodding off.

  “Sug, you get home. I’ll see to getting him to his place,” Ray said, helping Drex to his feet.

  “You know where he lives?” I asked.

  “Nah, but I’m sure we can figure it out. Go on now.” He nodded toward the door, asking me to open it for the two of him.

  “See you tomorrow, Eris.” Drex tipped his imaginary hat and leaned into Ray.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Ray said and waved at me over his shoulder, locking the door and pulling his keys from Drex’s grasp afterward.

  13

  The Dick

  Day 19

  I felt like a dick and once again was hungover.
I wasn’t sure how or when I got home, but I woke up with my upper body hanging off of the bed with my hand in the drawer of my nightstand.

  After all the blood and most of the alcohol I consumed last night rushed to my head, I leaned it against the drawer and groaned, looking inside to see what I had been going after before I passed out…upside down.

  Drunkenly, I scribbled, “I’m sorry. ~ Drex” onto a napkin. I had no clue where it came from. I didn’t have to remember anything from last night to know who the note was intended for. Eris. I stared at the ceiling, aggravated at myself for not only blacking out, but also for being a drunken idiot who couldn’t handle his booze.

  No one, until her, was able to keep my mind from wandering to my old life. I had been alone for years. Determination had thickened in my blood; I wasn’t getting close to anyone ever again. Not that I would consider the two of us to be close or friends, for that matter.

  Cheddar, one of my pet rats, stood up and peered at me from across the room while sniffing the air. Out of all three of my guys in there, he seemed to be the most judgmental. He was always watching me, when Carl and Mike couldn't give a shit as long as they had food. My sister, Lexie, thought his life was set on a course when he got a shitty name.

  She was right. Normally, I did give animals respectable names, but he escaped their cage when I brought them home. My cat had eaten him, or so I thought. He hated rats more than water, so Cheddar was as good as dead. He’d been at large in my house for forty-eight hours. Lexie and I were playing cards and having pizza and beer with a few friends. We thought we were losing our minds when the chip bag started scooting away from the couch. Henry picked up a baseball bat and was in mid-swing when Lexie yelled, “No! It's Cheddar!" as pizza flew outward from her full mouth. She and Roscoe were having a pizza-cramming contest. She was in the lead, but now would lose at the hands of a rat’s insatiable hunger.

  Henry, being the smartass he is, laughed and without missing a beat said, "No, they're sour cream, Crow." He always called Lexie by the nickname he’d given her when we were kids.

  He swung and Lexie tackled him to the floor, both of them barely missing the chip bag still moving.

  Cheddar popped his head out, looked around, and then went back into the bag to further stuff his cheeks.

  Henry rolled on top of Lexie and licked her forehead, leading her to punch him in the gut. "Why didn't you say his rat was in there?" He coughed, rubbing his stomach and grinning at her.

  "I did, you idiot! I said Shredder! I was speaking in guy terms you'd understand!" she huffed and pushed him off her.

  We all laughed at her. "It's Splinter, Crow. The rat was Splinter." He picked up a few chips that fell out when Cheddar poked his head out of the bag and chucked them in her direction.

  "Oh," she faintly replied and lifted Cheddar from the chip bag.

  She knew she was the reason he got his name, and I think it embarrassed her because of her lack in TMNT knowledge that he was almost killed. I always joked and reminded her she also saved his life by jumping Henry.

  Every few months my sister got it into her head I’d been alone too long and she planned a night of “fun”. I usually tried my best to get out of it, but that night she wouldn’t take no for an answer. That was the last time someone other than she was in my house. The guys had their second birthday coming up, so it’d been two years since anyone other than my sister had been here. I didn’t mind that at all. I was surprised she had let me go that long without some “intervention”.

  Cheddar used his hind foot to scratch behind his ear and then cleaned his white toes. Mike raised his head, eyed him suspiciously from their hammock, and then went back to sleep.

  "Morning, guys," I grumbled as I passed their cage and tapped it on the way to go shower.

  I felt like shit, so I went back to bed after showering. The clock said midnight, and I grunted, knowing I was going to be up for a few hours and wished I hadn’t fallen back to sleep earlier. I flipped on the lamp sitting on top of the nightstand and looked at the napkin again. After picking it up, it slipped from my fingers and landed with my note against the floor. There was her name on the other side, and I remembered what I had done and where I had been the night before.

  I knew I shouldn’t have drunk that much or at least shouldn’t have drunk that much being that close to her. Bringing in a puff of air into my lungs and then blowing it out, I fell back onto the bed.

  “Fuck,” was the only thing to be said, so I said it. I then said it again a few times or twenty. Now wasn’t the time to admit to having feelings or to admit to caring, but despite how much I wanted to deny them they were there. The bastards were screaming at me, but I refused to give in to them.

  She was heaven, and I brought hell. Death surrounded me, and I knew I couldn’t let either of us fall down that rabbit hole. She’d only get hurt.

  I used to save lives. Now, I couldn’t control my own, much less help someone else.

  14

  Eris

  Drex hadn’t returned to the diner. Either that or Ray wasn’t talking. I made up the excuse of needing to pick up my jacket from our break room when I stopped in the diner. I wasn’t fooling anyone. It was a nice night—definitely not weather that required an extra layer.

  Three days of my requested time off had already passed by and seven more remained. This was a time of year I never worked, but no one knew the reason, and I wasn’t going to tell them either. That was one of my favorite parts of being family with Ray and Sam. They never asked questions about my past. Marian and Gretchen, two of the waitresses, would ask occasionally, but never pressed the issue when I didn’t tell them anything.

  Once home, I left the exterior door open, shutting only the storm door with the screen, allowing the warm summer air to whirl around the apartment and bring in the smell of rain. I kicked my socks off and stretched out on the couch with a yawn, knowing a nap was just what I needed.

  Each firework that exploded sent a new wave of pain through my chest. I was having an anxiety attack, which was odd, because I hadn’t had one since I was little. I usually enjoyed watching the fireworks, but this time was different. They were lacking the lustrous colors that normally drew me into them. Dark blue and red were the only colors that flashed before my eyes. No pinks or purples decorated the night’s sky. The explosions were growing louder with each firework, and my ability to breathe was lessening.

  “It’s okay, Momma,” Noah said, not taking his eyes off the sky, but took my hand in his.

  Refusing to let the panic overcome me, I forced the stale air to leave my lungs and breathed in a fresh mouthful. My eyes abruptly opened, and I realize it was a dream. At least part of it was. My living room was flooded with red and blue lights, and the screen door rattled in protest as someone loudly knocked.

  Unsettling chills climbed my skin and wrapped their unforgiving fingers around my throat. With each knock at the door their grasp tightened. I knew something was wrong. Where were Noah and Dad? It was dark, and they should be home. Where were they? Why weren’t they home?

  I awoke in a cold sweat and hugged my knees, letting the tears fall down my face. My body rhythmically rocked back and forth as I tried to calm myself. I prayed what I had dreamed could be only a dream for many years now, but it wasn’t. I lived that nightmare. I would never forget that day.

  I screamed, and then I cussed. Usually, I reacted one of two ways when my subconscious reminded me I was a childless parent. Rage or depression. Tonight, it was a mixture of both, which could only lead to one thing: self-destruction. I needed to find water, and fast.

  I got to my feet and flung open the screen door. I was pretty sure I heard the frame burst when it smacked against the wall, but I didn’t care enough to look. I knew if I didn’t get out of the house in a matter of seconds, I would intentionally break things. My feet knew where to go, even if my head wasn’t capable of concentration.

  I needed to breathe. I needed to drown this hate. I needed to feel what h
e felt. I needed him.

  15

  Drex

  Night 24

  I considered not drinking tonight, afraid I might drunkenly wander back to her. Who was I kidding? Of course, I would drink. I had drunk so much for so long, my body ached when I didn’t have alcohol in it. After I walked up the broken sidewalk and into the liquor store, Homer put one bottle of whiskey onto the counter, and I simply shook my head. He put another green bottle beside the first, because even without words, he spoke my language. I needed an intervention before my liver was completely gone, but I wouldn’t find it here.

  The money I had sunk into Homer’s store in the short time I had been here easily ran into the thousands. I didn’t care. Some people had multiple reasons to drink. Lies they uttered to help themselves accept their self-abuse. I only had one. One solitary thought every time I took a breath. I hated myself for that reason.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and watched Homer run my card.

  He simply nodded in response as he handed the card back to me.

  I tucked both bottles under my arm and headed down the hill behind the store, remembering to miss the hole that had caused me to fall the last time I came to the lake. I was far enough away from the restaurant and had enough alcohol to knock a bull on its ass, so I knew I wouldn’t go look for her. At least not tonight. I’d probably be comatose soon. That was the goal, anyhow.

  Once the moon reflected off the lake, I thought to be deep enough into the woods that I was safe not to do something stupid after I was drunk. Other than maybe piss on my shoe. It wouldn’t be the first time, and honestly, probably not the last. The bottles clanked together as I set them down against a tree, and I was quick to find a seat next to them.