He called me the other day. He sounded more depressed than usual and I’m worried about him. He kept saying that things were worse. My dad hit him and my mother. While my father was verbally abusive, he never laid a finger on any of us. I know I should call child protective services and report him, but that means that my brother gets saddled with a foster family and becomes part of the system. A system that I will have to fight to get him to come back; If he can just hang on a little while more, I’ll be able to get him out and help him. Then maybe I can work on getting my mother out as well.
Today I hate my father. I hate him for all the things he did to me and what he’s doing to my mother and brother. He’s an evil vile man and I’m ashamed to share the same DNA as him. My hate for him drives me to try harder and do better. I will make something of myself and I will be successful.
I update my blog and explain that another building I was interested in has been bought. I continue the update about the importance of studying and making good grades. I wrote not only as a motivation to my followers but as a motivation for myself. I need to make the most of my tests.
I remember what Justin did for me when I had an important test coming up. He would make study cards and ask me questions about the material. I felt so stupid when I would get a question wrong and beat myself up about it. At one point I said it was too hard and I was going to fail, so what was the point. Justin put the cards down and looked me in the eyes, “Gabriel, you’ll only accomplish what you believe about yourself. If you say you’re going to fail, then you will, if you say you’re going to do well then you will. It’s time you start saying that you can instead of you can’t.”
“But this is so hard. I can’t concentrate and I get everything wrong.” I protested.
“Gabe, there are many famous people that failed before they found success. It’s okay to get questions wrong while studying. That’s the whole point. Make your mistakes now, and then there won’t be any when you take your test.”
Justin always knew just the right thing to say to encourage me. I wish he was here right now. I wonder what he would say. I imagine his southern voice, kind eyes and patient smile. If he was sitting here right now he would tell me to keep pressing forward and not give up on myself. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” He would mutter to himself more than once when a project didn’t work out how he expected it to.
He was a strong man and overcame a lot. He wasn’t always single. He has a wife once and a son. He lived a few states over, and he was out with them one evening. They went to a gas station and his wife and son wanted some snacks. He stayed outside to pump the gas. He described the kind of day it was, night was setting in, there was a warm breeze and they didn’t want to waste the good weather. They were going to go for a walk together and enjoy each other, away from the TV and distractions of their life; just them, the path and the soon to be night sky. He was watching the pump tick away the gallons, when he heard three loud pops; the kind of pops that can only come from a gun.
He knew immediately what had happened and instead of running into the store he chased the masked man into the street. He knocked him down and the gun fell from his hand. Justin grabbed the gun and shot him in the knee so he couldn’t get away. He dragged the guy to his car and put a zip tie around his wrists and a bike rack. Once he was sure he couldn’t get away he went inside. Hoping and praying his family was okay.
His wife lay trembling on the floor, blood pooling around her body. His son was still, barely breathing. The clerk was dead, with a gunshot to the head. Justin called the police, and then focused on his wife, trying to get the bleeding to stop. She asked him to save their son. He nodded at her, then went to his son and did what he could to keep his son alive. The ambulance came, and took over. The police took the robber away. His wife didn’t make it to the hospital she was dead on arrival, and his son struggled to live. He slipped into a coma, and then out of life. He was brain dead from the trauma and Justin lost everything that was important to him. The robber got life in prison, and the worst part was; the robber only left the store with fifty dollars.
“I lost my family over fifty dollars.” He said, tears streaming down his face. “I would have rather died in their place, but for some reason I’m still here. That’s the weird thing about life. You think you know what you’re going to do, you even make plans and they get snatched away in a matter of minutes.”
“Gabe, I could have given up then. I almost did. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I knew there was some purpose for me being here. I decided I was going to live for them. I was going to do the things we always talked about doing. They became my reason for life. They became my reason for not giving up.” Justin lifted his shirt and revealed a tattoo portrait of his wife and son, with their names, date of birth and date of death. The words, “I live for you,” scripted underneath their smiling faces.
I was just fourteen when he told me the story, and I couldn’t wrap my head around his pain. I was never close enough to anyone to fully understand the kind of love he had for his wife and son. Now that I’m older, and this memory comes back to mind; I understand. I understand just how hard it was for him to pick himself up and live in honor of his family.
I go to my room and grab the only picture of Justin that I have. I’m going to have his face tattoo on my body with the same words he had, “I live for you.” He’s the reason I’m trying so hard to succeed. He believed in me when no one else did and took the time to sow into my life. I’m going to get the tattoo after I finish my finals. Who knows I might even take Crystal with me.
Crystal
I wake up with a yawn and a stretch. I’m happy, light, and accomplished. I have made it through finals and my grades are posted today. I can’t wait to see if I passed, but based on the ease of how quickly I worked through the test, I’m hopeful. I go through my closet trying to figure out what to wear.
Ryan has expressed that I need to dress better, which is weird because he’s never complained before. I pull out my favorite pair of jeans. He hates to see them on me, but I want to wear something comfortable. I struggle to pull them on. I can barely get them over my hips and forget about buttoning them. I take a look in the mirror and notice my pudgy tummy and my thighs look like cottage cheese. I’ve never put on weight like this before and I wonder when it happened. I’ve noticed that my clothes are tighter than they had been, but have I really gained that much? I pull a shirt on and stare at how it fits. My upper arms are flabby and I’m just a little grossed out.
My frustration builds as I dig around searching for something to wear that doesn’t make me look like a stuffed walrus. I’m still puzzled and shocked over the weight gain. Ryan hasn’t said anything to me about it and neither has Gabriel. In fact no one has said a single word. If someone would have said something I would have been more careful about what I’ve been putting in my mouth.
What have I been eating? I ask myself, and memories of me sitting on the couch, eyes glazed over stuffing chips, popcorn and ice cream into my mouth flash in my mind. Not only that, but Ryan brings over food, or we go out, and it’s not exactly the best food either. When I think about it, it all adds up. I’ve been stressed and eating without thinking.
I want to cry when I realize I’ve gone through my entire closet and nothing looks good on me. I pull on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I feel so gross. I’m going to have to kick my ass in gear and get this extra weight off.
I grab my laptop and start with some simple research; I discover that it’s common for college students to gain weight in the first semester of college. I look up a diet plan and exercises and try to decide when I’m going to start. I eventually conclude that there is no time like the present to get started.
I make my way to kitchenette and pilfer through the fridge. If I’m going to start down the diet road then I’m going to need a good breakfast or so my research says. I notice that we have whole milk, instead of skim, no fruit and a lot of sugary cereal. We have one egg in
a carton and I figure that it’s better than nothing. I grab the carton and begin the process of cooking the egg.
Tiffany walks into the room grunts at me and starts a pot of coffee. I’ve learned that she isn’t a morning person at all and needs coffee to function. Once the pot is turned on Tiffany trudges back to her room, and I finish cooking the egg. Soon the dorm fills with the smell of fresh made coffee and I feel a twinge on my tongue and I imagine the sweet elixir filling my mouth and trickling down my throat, warming me and waking me up from the inside out. I can have coffee on a diet, but not the kind of coffee I’ve come to love and enjoy. I can have black coffee and not my doctored up white coffee. I still haven’t been able to get past the taste of black coffee straight out of the pot, so after I finish my eggs, I gather up every bit of will power that I have and leave the dorm.
It’s 11am and my grades should be posted by now. Instead of walking, I decide to jog and take off at what seems like a decent pace. I’m able to maintain the speed all the way to the hall where my classes are and look at the sheets. I’m winded and my vision is slightly blurry from my exertion, but I’m able to find my name on the list and see my grade. I passed my first class with a 95%! I feel jubilant and punch the air in triumph. I go through class by class looking at my grades and each score makes my heart beat faster and my smile grow on my face. I’ve passed every single class and I don’t have a single score below 90%! I want to pinch myself I’m so excited. I worked so hard and it finally paid off. Now I just have to keep it up for the rest of the school year and the subsequent years to come. I have such big plans and I’m so excited that I’m following my dreams and achieving all I want to.
I want to celebrate and what better way than the party for tonight. Everyone has been talking about it all week long, and it seems that the whole entire campus will be there. Emily outdid herself, she’s been the most talked about student, and soon everyone will know her for who she is. I know, because I’m to play an important role in her downfall, although I’m nervous about carrying it out.
I take a deep breath as I try not to think about Emily. I leave the hall and run across campus. There aren’t many people around this morning, and the only sound I hear is the sound of my feet and my ragged breaths. In hindsight I should have brought my headphones; I could have at least listened to music on my phone.
I feel winded and my face feels hot, I drop out of a run and begin walking. I really suck at this. I want to keep running, but I need something to keep my mind off of what my body is doing. I decide that my only course of action is to go back to my dorm and get my headphones. I prepare myself for the short jog back to my dorm and set off.
When I get inside, I look around and notice the pot of coffee sitting there, full to the brim completely untouched. I find it weird, because Tiffany is as religious about her coffee as Muslims are about their prayers. I wonder where she is, but I figure that maybe she just went back to bed. I tip toe to my room, and quietly shut the door. If she’s asleep I don’t want to wake her up.
In my room I dig through my bag looking for my headphones. I haven’t used them in a while and I’m not entirely sure where they’re at. I dig to the bottom of the bag and don’t see them
“Is this what you wanted?” I hear a familiar voice from Tiffany’s room, and I feel shocked and confused. What is Ryan doing here and why is he talking to Tiffany? More importantly what does she want that he has?
My bag drops to the floor, and I tip toe close to the wall and put my ear against it. I hear metal clicking, and some jingling. My heart drops to the floor as I imagine Ryan putting handcuffs on her. “This is perfect, exactly what I had in mind.” I hear Tiffany say. Exactly what she had in mind? I question, so they had this planned? A million questions burn in my mind, and rage begins to fill my body. Two options are immediately presented before me. I can either confront both of them right here and get down to the bottom of this or I can listen to more of the conversation. I decide on the latter, then I hear Tiffany say, “It’s so big, are you sure it will fit?” That sentence was the last straw for me. I needed answers and I needed them now. I storm over the Tiffany’s room and don’t bother to knock. If they’re doing what I think they’re doing I want to catch them in the act. I want to know without a shadow of a doubt.
As soon as I barge in the door, I see Tiffany holding a big black handgun, and Ryan standing next to her. Since when did Ryan deal guns and why does Tiffany have one? We stare at each other in mutual shock. Obviously I walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to know about and they didn’t know I was here. “W-what’s going on?” I finally croak out and feel my face turning beet red.
“I feel like I should ask you the same thing.” Tiffany counters.
Ryan looks from me to Tiffany and back again, “Crystal, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“I’m not even sure what this looks like.” I answer. “Why do you have a gun?” I ask Tiffany.
“I wanted one, you know, for protection.” She says, and shifts her eyes. I can tell there’s something else going on, but neither looks like they’re going to talk. “Protection from what?” I ask.
“In case things go bad with Emily.” She says.
“What could possibly go wrong, that you would need a gun?”
“I don’t know I feel safer having one.”
“What do you have to do with all of this?” I ask Ryan, folding my arms and glaring at him.
“She asked me if I knew where to get a gun and I got her one.”
“Did you even think to ask her why she needs a gun?’
“Does it matter?”
“Where did you get it and how does she know, that you know how to get it?” I ask.
“I know you’re fucking Gabriel.” He says and I feel the wind being sucked out of my body. Did I just hear him right? Did he say that he knows about me and Gabriel?
“What?” I ask
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He says darkly.
“I’m going, to go.” Tiffany says and leaves the room.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Then let me talk. I’ve wanted to say this for a while.” He says taking a deep breath, “I know you’re fucking Gabriel and I’ve been pretending that I don’t fucking care. Why can’t you see that I love you Crystal. I’ve been putting up with your shit this whole time, and it’s like you don’t even notice or care. You’re so selfish, and honestly you’re a lot like me. We’re perfect for each other, and you need to see that and stop screwing around with him. I can make him go away, Crystal. You have no idea what I’m capable of doing.” He threatens.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask taken aback.
“It means that I’m mad about you, and I can’t stand the thought of him touching you.”
“How long have you known?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper.
“The whole damn time. You know, I was hoping I could make you stay away from him, by making you choose me, but it looks like he’s not going to leave you alone, so Crystal, I’m begging you, stop seeing him.”
“You’ve known the whole time?” I ask my brain still not fully connecting the dots.
“Yes Crystal, the whole time, and if you want what’s best for him you’ll never see him again.”
“What’s best for him?”
“Do you honestly think a guy like him deserves to be with someone who is screwing around with someone else on the side?” he asks taking my hands and looking into my eyes.
I hang my head as I realize that he’s right. Who am I kidding? Gabriel is a great guy and he deserves someone who will be all his and really appreciate him. My face is wet from the tears running down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” Ryan says and hugs me. “I love you Crystal, regardless of what you’ve done, and I understand why. I’m not angry with you.” He soothes.
“You’re not angry with me?” I ask almost shocked.
“How could I be angry with you, when I love you so much?” He say
s and pulls my face up to his. He leans down and kisses me with the same heat and passion as he always has. I’m reassured by his kiss. He really does love me and he isn’t angry with me. I do however; feel like I’m walking around without my pants on now that my secret has been confronted.
“Ryan,” I start to apologize, and then decide against it. He’ll know it’s not a true apology.
“What?” He asks.
My mind scrambles to find a subject, any subject other than the current one, “I need clothes, for the party.” I blurt.
“What’s wrong with the ones you have?”
“They, um, don’t fit.”
“Oh,” he says, “Then I guess we’ll have to get you some nice clothes.”
Ryan
Tiffany texted me this morning as soon as Crystal left. I got her gun for her and she’s been anxious to get it. When she first asked me if I could help her out I thought she was crazy. Who needs a gun? She told me she was being stalked and would feel safe is she had one. I weighed the pros and cons and decided if she wanted it she could have it.
I had to pull some strings to get it for her. It’s a good thing I have connections, I was able to contact one of my dad’s business partners. He had a gun he was willing to sell and Tiffany had enough money. He pulled a revolver out of a drawer in his desk. The metal was black and the handle was wood.
“Is this unregistered?” I asked him.
“I wouldn’t sell you anything that is.” He answered.
“Ammo?” I asked as I fumbled with the mechanics of the gun. I’ve never fired one before let alone touch one.
He scooted a box of .45 caliber bullets towards me, “I’ve got you covered.”
I pulled the hammer back, trying to figure out how to open the cylinder where the bullets are held, and then my finger landed on the trigger. A loud pop sounded when the gun fired and the kickback was so strong that my hand flew into the air, hurting my wrist.
Secrets (Swept Saga) Page 12
