Possession

by Johnson, A. M.

  “I mean it…” He attempted to sit up, but he burped, dry heaved, and then sat back and closed his eyes.

  “I know she is, Pop.”

  He didn’t respond. Passed out, just like always.

  I wanted to shout at him, “I wish you could really see her. I wish you weren’t always drunk, breathing whiskey down her throat every time she was here.”

  She’ll never come back.

  The voices had been so quiet lately. But tonight the malice in my head was right. She’d never come back, not after tonight. Liam and my father had really gone at it. She looked terrified. I was pissed at Liam for not controlling his temper.

  “I’m sorry she had to see that.” Mom, placed her hand on my shoulder.

  “Did Liam really drop out of school?” I turned and looked at my mother. Even though she’d had us boys late in life, being married to Pop, it must have aged her twice as fast. Her hair with strands of gray already, her eyes surrounded with deep wrinkles… she looked spent.

  “I’m afraid he did, that boss down at the tattoo parlor offered to teach him how it all works, I suppose. He said he’d make more money, and I told him we didn’t need it, but he insisted we did. I guess he saw one of your doctor bills. It got sent to collections.”

  Guilt drowned my lungs.

  Your brother has to suffer because of you.

  Look at the trouble you cause.

  “I’m feeling better, I don’t need—”

  “You know as much as I do that once that boy gets an idea in his head he can’t be stopped, and honestly, I haven’t told anyone yet, but your dad, he got demoted. We really could use the money, and Liam has always been good at everything he does. I have no doubt he’ll shine and be the best artist there.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “All my boys are so creative.” She gave me a light pat on the shoulder. “Stop worrying. I can see those gears grinding.”

  “Mom, can you help me with this math homework?” Kieran’s hair was messy, as if he’d been pulling at it. He had been lucky enough to miss the fight, stuck in his room doing homework.

  “Sure, honey.” My mom gave me a smile before she left to help my brother.

  I looked at my dad again and something inside me snapped. When Liam told him he’d quit school, he didn’t even care. It wasn’t until Liam called him a fucking waste that he threw the first punch. He hit my brother in the jaw. Paige had cried out, and Liam attacked Pop in a fit of fists and screams. It took both me and my mom to separate the two of them. It was when everything had calmed down I’d remembered Paige. She was huddled in the corner of the kitchen, terror in her eyes.

  I’d finally found the one thing worth living for and, in one heated flash of an impulse, she could be gone.

  The sun hadn’t risen yet and I’d only slept for about three hours. My night, after I dozed off, was plagued by dreams of my childhood. I hadn’t thought about that day in such a long time. I harbored a shitload of guilt when it came to Liam, and I knew he was going to flip when he woke up to find Paige was here. I’m guessing I was even worried in my sleep. His temper could get out of hand, and if he did anything, said anything to hurt Paige, it was going to be one hell of a morning.

  Paige was still out cold as I rearranged the covers around her. She rambled a few incoherent words and pulled the comforter up to her chin. I shut the door as easy as I could and the click hardly echoed in the hall. The light was on in the kitchen, and the smell of coffee got stronger as I made my way down the hallway in the same clothes I’d had on yesterday.

  Liam was leaning against the counter with just a pair of sweats on staring at the coffee maker.

  “You’re up early.” I kept my voice down in hopes I wouldn’t wake Paige.

  “I haven’t been to bed yet.” Liam looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

  I laughed. “Good night?”

  He scrubbed his face with is palm. “Fuck, no.”

  “What happened?”

  He stared at me.

  “Liam?” My brows knotted. “What happened?”

  “Kelly called me.” His jaw pulsed.

  Kelly was Liam’s ex-girlfriend. They’d been together since he was nineteen, but after Pop died, and he bought the shop, things changed. She’d left him about three years ago. Moved to California. Liam was going to ask her to marry him, but he’d said she wanted to be a model and that marrying him would have stifled her dreams to finally leave this town. I sometimes think, if he wasn’t strapped to our family financially, he might’ve gone with her.

  “She did? What did she say?”

  “I don’t know, I was with Tana, she’s sleeping, by the way. Keep your voice down.”

  “You didn’t answer?”

  “We were fucking, Declan, hell no I didn’t answer.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “Well, shit.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Why are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?”

  “Paige came over to look at some of my finished work, it got late so she… she stayed over.” I kept my eyes on his.

  “She’s in my apartment? Right now?” The challenge in his voice was a bull stuck in its pen.

  I didn’t back down. “Our apartment.”

  His jaw set in a stubborn line and he shook his head. “You’re just asking for it, aren’t you? That chick is married, do I need to remind you again that she left you, she –”

  “Lower your damn voice.” I exhaled an aggravated breath. “She’s getting a divorce, and the asshole she was married to… she’s had it bad, Liam, worse than I originally thought. We’re trying to work it out.”

  “Until she decides to run again.” He laughed without humor, turned, and grabbed the pot of coffee, pouring the brown liquid into his mug. He sighed as he put the pot back on the burner and dropped his head.

  “She’s not running. He controlled her, her parents basically sold her to him for a shiny spot in the front goddamn pew of their church. They took her shame for what we’d done and used it against her. They told her she was a sinner, that she was damned, that she wouldn’t be able to have the forgiveness of God unless she married him and saved herself through the church.” I spoke in a rough, hurried whisper. “You can’t judge her, you don’t know shit.”

  He raised his head, but braced himself on the edge of the counter, his back still facing me. The muscles in his shoulders stretched with tension, but he was calm when he said, “You’re my life, Declan, this family, Kieran, Mom, you’re all I have, and I’m not just going to sit by and watch her fucking break you again.”

  “I love him, Liam.” Paige’s voice wavered and she startled me when she put her hand in mine.

  Liam turned and focused on our linked fingers. He knew what Paige and I had been through, he was aware of it all, but still his cold, brown eyes assessed her as he said, “You fucking better.” She stiffened at my side as he took a step toward her. “I almost lost him because of you… if you’re not in this for the long haul, then I suggest you hit the damn road, because if I—”

  “That’s enough!” Paige was shaking at my side and I was about two seconds from clocking my brother in the jaw. “Can’t you see you’re scaring her?” I pulled her under my arm and Liam frowned.

  “I think that’s the point,” she whispered.

  Liam flicked his gaze back to her. He watched us both for a moment and his shoulders sagged.

  “It’s too early for this shit.” He ran his hand through his hair again. The dark strands were at odds with each other as he turned and grabbed his mug.

  Paige released my hand and moved out from under my arm.

  “Paige, don’t.”

  She rested her hand on his arm. The tiny fragile bones of her fingers begged him to give her a chance. “I-I know you’re worried, but I can promise—”

  “I don’t want your promises, save those for God, just don’t hurt him again.” He snapped his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “I won
’t.”

  He stepped away from her touch and moved toward me. The severe line of his jaw, the creases around his eyes, they relaxed. “I’ll see you at work.”

  Paige watched him as he disappeared down the hall. “What did he mean he almost lost you?”

  “I told you, it got really bad after you left.”

  A flash of panic flickered across her features. “Did you try to—”

  I shook my head. “I thought about it, but nothing ever concrete.”

  “Liam hates me and it’s for good reason.”

  “Come here.” I held out my hand and she took it. “He doesn’t hate you, he dropped it, that’s a good sign. If he hated you, he would have tried to throw you out, and then I would’ve ended up in jail for assaulting my brother. I think it ended well.” I pulled her to my chest.

  She huffed.

  “Just give him some time, he’ll come around.”

  At least I hoped he would.

  Declan’s computer screensaver danced with bubbles casting the room in a blue glow, and as the sunlight peeked out of the bottom of the closed window shades, my surroundings became clearer. I sat up, pushing the heavy black comforter to the side. It had tangled around my jean-clad legs. My hair was a little damp with perspiration, my mouth was sticky with thirst, and I was alone.

  Declan’s side of the bed was disheveled. I placed my hand on his pillow and the cold fabric sent a chill up my arm. I wondered how long he’d been awake or if he’d been able to go back to sleep at all after our early morning encounter with Liam. Liam had been so abrupt, and he had every right to be, but I hoped he’d give me a chance. He’d been almost like a brother to me once. Being an only child, even if Declan hated it, I loved going to his house most of the time. His father was a drunk, but his mother was the sweetest person I’d ever known. Her paper-thin, frail hands had a history. A history of laundry, housework, and raising three strong boys. Her sapphire eyes were Declan’s and they held secrets, pain, and longing. Their house lived and breathed and creaked and groaned and, over the years, it became mine, as well.

  “I guess you think you’re better than us?” Liam was still breathing heavy, his hand gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white despite the cuts and bruising.

  My heart was banging and clanging, and the blood whooshed behind my eardrums. “W-what?”

  The car rolled to a stop as Liam pulled to the side of the road a few blocks from the O’Connell’s. He shifted in his seat and looked at me. His features were the hardest of the boys, the darkest. His deep brown eyes pinned me to the cushion of the passenger seat. He was attractive, just like his brothers, but in a scary, too manly sort of way. His hair was almost black and too long, dipping past his left eye. He was built bigger than any sixteen-year-old boy should be.

  “Is he your charity project?” He raised his hands in question. His knuckles were raw and the image of him taking his father’s punch, his face shocked and pained, blinked vividly in my mind.

  I was confused, and as my brows furrowed, his jaw relaxed and he lowered his hands. “We’re a fucking freak show compared to your palace on the bench.”

  It was my turn to be angry. “Excuse me?” I sat up straighter and my own hands balled into fists as they sat on my thighs.

  “Dex is special. He always has been and if you—”

  “Declan is more than special, he’s brilliant, and beautiful, and…” I paused as Liam’s mouth twitched with a budding smile. “I suppose you think I’m just some dumb kid? I care about your brother. He’s the only one who gets me.” I dropped my eyes to my lap. My fists were now a tangle of nerves as I threaded my fingers in and out.

  “I’m sorry.” Liam’s brusque voice had taken on a soft edge. It was deep and the timbre of it soothed my steel spine, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that tonight, it’s… it’s fucked. This whole life… it’s not right.”

  He drifted away. His eyes now out the window, thinking about things I’d never ever be able to imagine. The hardships he’d endured at such a young age… it wasn’t right.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  He shook his head, cleared his throat, and said, “Declan told me you’re a real Picasso.”

  My lips pressed together and my smile hid at the corners, shy and new. “He did?”

  Liam’s smile was warm and surprisingly... soulful. “Yeah. You make him happy. Keep it that way.” His smile danced as he put the car in gear.

  “I will. I promise.” It was too quiet for him to hear as he concentrated on pulling back onto the roadway. But he exhaled, and the set of his shoulders relaxed, and I thought, for just a moment, that maybe he had heard me after all.

  I grabbed my phone from the night stand, shaking off the memory. I’d failed Declan… and I’d lied to Liam. I hadn’t kept my promise, and the lump in my throat turned to ash, making me nauseous. I looked at the door to the bedroom. I was too scared to just walk out of his room. Liam and I had a huge bridge to build, and I wasn’t ready, or equipped to do it on my own. At least not today, not after this morning. My thumb had just opened the lock screen so I could text Declan, when he walked in.

  He was wearing only a pair of faded, touchable blue jeans that hung low on his hips. That very perceptible V dipped below the denim waist line and, as I continued my free perusal of his bare chest, I noticed a glint of metal. My eyes widened, I hadn’t noticed it in the studio the other night. Both of his nipples were pierced, and I had to drag my eyes upward before I blushed. He was watching me as the door closed behind him. Declan’s dark blond hair was still wet, and his cheeks were pink from the shower. The smell of soap and deodorant filled the room, and the hummingbird in my chest took flight. I’d seen his tattoos, briefly before, but seeing him now, muscles and ink on display, I nearly swallowed my tongue. I’d been kept in a glass box for the past nine years. Need and desire had been prayed out of me, leaving duty and servitude in its place.

  “Good morning.” His voice was coarse and worn and honey at the same time. It was the hammer, the breaking point, and my glass cage shattered to pieces all around me.

  “Hi.” My breath hitched as he moved toward the dresser.

  I watched him through the mirror as he opened his top drawer and dug through it. His back was free of ink, but the wide expanse of it, the strength, it heated my cheeks. He caught me staring through the mirror and as our gazes collided his blue eyes lit with a hungry flame. Declan’s arms and chest were teasing me within the reflection. I stood from the bed, running my nervous hands through my hair. My feet moved forward without my bidding, driven by pure curiosity and the need to touch and trace every line on his body. He’d made his flesh a canvas, and just like his art, I was sure each piece had a meaning.

  I raised my fingertips and, as I dusted his shoulder, he went rigid. A flash of fear darkened his irises.

  “May I…” I placed the palm of my hand flush to the skin of his bicep and he melted.

  The humidity of his shower still lingered around him like an aura, and his citrus scent was intense as he turned to face me. His posture was calm, and his arms hung with ease on each side, granting me silent permission. I was eye level with the thick black cross that was tattooed in the center of his sternum just right of his heart. My hand began to shake as I lowered it to his chest and traced the symbol. He shivered under my touch, as the tips of my fingers followed along the inside of the tattoo, making the sign of the cross.

  “It’s for protection,” he said, so low it was almost a reverent whisper.

  “Protection?”

  He took a deep breath. “From the evil in the world… and… in my head.”

  “Nothing about what goes on in your head is evil, Declan.” I brought my eyes to his and watched in awe as the color cleared back to light blue. Maybe it was the shadows of the room, but as he stared at me, I felt his mood shift.

  He leaned down, pressed his lips to my forehead, and I laid my hand flat against the in
k, pausing momentarily to feel his heart rate increase below my palm. He pulled back and allowed me to continue my perusal. I gently trailed along his skin to the next tattoo. Everything on his left arm was geometric and, if you looked closely, you could glean shapes within the tangled knots of black. Faces, clocks, everything was intricately sewn together along the flesh. I brought my fingers to his right arm, the one with my eye, with my words, and traced along the inner hollow of his elbow. He exhaled a shuddered breath as I drew lines up and up until I was back at his shoulder again. I wanted to ask him why he’d chosen the things he had. What did the quote on his rib cage mean to him? He was a walking tome of secrets and I wanted to decipher each one. My fingers feasted upon each swirl as my hand moved down his left pectoral muscle. But, when my thumb accidentally brushed his piercing he groaned and grabbed my hand. He held it against his chest for a few seconds until the flame flickered and ebbed away.

  “I should get dressed.” He gave me a small smile that was at odds with the strain apparent in his tone.

  He released the hold he had on my hand and I let my palm fall away. He turned and grabbed a black t-shirt from his dresser. His muscles pulled tight as he lifted it over his head. It was overwhelming to watch him like this. It felt blatant and rude, but this was the boy I’d shared everything with, and the man he’d become was too tempting, and it shook the very foundation of what I’d become. We’d always been two different spheres, always drawn to the other, but this time, he was more than I could handle, and it wasn’t a question of if. It was when… when would we crash, when would this man unleash, and when would I succumb to the power of his release... to the power of the fall?