Revive Me

by Ferrell, Charity

  Beneath Our Faults

  Karma

  This is for those who’ve lost someone without getting the chance to say goodbye; for those who’ve lost the one they love, their best friend, and the person who made them feel whole. This is for you. Those of you who choose to mask the pain by numbing yourself.

  Things will get better.

  Things will look up.

  You can be brought to life.

  My head fell back as dark spots crept from the corner of my lids before my sight grew blurry. My breathing labored, every exhale taking all of my energy, and I caught a glimpse of bright red before the pain seeped through my veins and everything went black.

  This is what I’d wanted.

  This is what I’d craved.

  This is what I’d planned.

  I’d wanted all the pain to fade away.

  And it was.

  Tessa

  Loss. That one word is so short. One syllable. Four letters. Yet the meaning is massive. One word, one million feelings. We don’t only mourn the loss of the person as we’re grieving. We grieve the memories sweeping through and reminding us of the plans that are never going to happen. Pain seizes our body, runs its never-ending course, and takes us over. We become a part of the loss. We become lost. When I lost him, I lost myself.

  I was a planner. My parents insisted I had an agenda book with me in the womb, the time and date penciled in for when I was ready to be released into the world. Everything in my life was previously drafted; social events, meals, outfits, everything. And he’d been a fixture in every one.

  That was when I had the naïve belief that plans actually worked in my favor. That they didn’t go astray. That was before reality bitch-slapped me in the face. Someone else’s plan ambushed mine, went to war, and mine lost brutally. His plan took the most important person away from me, and I was trying my damnedest to come up with a back-up plan. A Plan B. I was searching for anything that would help me recover from my loss. But my search always came up short. I had nothing.

  Every morning, I’d wake up and slowly my recovery had slipped further and further away from me. Nothing worked. My body ached like an essential organ had been ripped away from my flesh. It had survived the wound, operating with its daily functions, but it would always be ruptured. I’d never be the same.

  I pushed the rim of my black sunglasses up my nose to block out the hot Indiana sun beaming through the windows as I swerved my Honda sedan into the first parking space I spotted. I turned the key to shut off the ignition, grabbed my cell phone from the cup holder, and tapped my finger against the second name in my favorites. Please answer. I needed her with me today. A heavy ache pulled at my chest at the thought of going through this alone. No, that couldn’t happen.

  I put the call on speaker, allowing my head to fall back against the uncomfortable headrest as I listened to the resonating ringing coming from my lap until the familiar greeting picked up. You have reached the voicemail box of... I shut the automatic recording off without leaving a message and tossed my phone into my bag sitting in the passenger seat.

  Dread and anger surged through me. Why did I waste my time trying when I already knew what the end result would be? It was the same every damn time. Every one of my calls and texts went unanswered. We’d been best friends since we were in diapers, but now she couldn’t stand the sight of me. I reminded her too much of him. We lost him, and then I lost her.

  I slammed my eyelids shut, took a few breaths, and struggled with the urge to break down in tears. I wanted to slam my car into reverse and bury myself in the comfort of my bed. But that wasn’t an option for me. I had to do this for Derrick. I had to walk through those doors everyday for nine months. I snagged my bag, hoisting it over my shoulder, before stepping out of my car and kicking the door shut behind me. I just needed to get this over with.

  The sun continued its assault on me, the warmth reflecting off the black pavement as I walked toward the double front doors to the medium-sized, brick building sitting in the middle of the parking lot. I wanted to swat the bright sunshine away and tell it to go to hell. I hated the sun now. I preferred the somberness of my quiet and dark bedroom.

  I hadn’t stepped into a school since that day. And it scared the ever-loving shit out of me. My heart pounded faster with every forced step as I eyed a small group of people gathered at the entrance doors. They were sitting on the ground, lounging on wooden benches, or leaning against each other as they laughed and joke amongst each other. That pounding heart began to fill with jealousy. Laughter. It had seemed so effortless then, but now it took every ounce of my strength and energy to force a smile for the sake of my younger brother. Every time I saw someone enjoying themselves, I was reminded that the grieving process was long and drawn-out, and I wasn’t sure when it would stop. Or if it ever would.

  I veered to the right, my feet feeling heavy as I maneuvered around the bodies and headed straight to the entrance doors. I yelped as a firm hand wrapped around my upper arm to stop my movement.

  “Hey,” I know you,” a raspy voice called out from behind me.

  I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, and nausea filling my stomach. He whipped me around to face him before I had the chance to smack his hand away and flee. I blinked a few times, staring at him through the thin lenses of my glasses, but there was no recognition. He was standing at the edge of the crowd with the majority of everyone’s attention on his tall, skinny stature. He had at least six inches on my five-foot-eight frame. Jet-black hair curled around his ears and peeked out from under a backwards ball cap. A silver hoop looped around his eyebrow with a matching one caught on the bottom of his lip. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken a few times. A baggy, wrinkled shirt covered his lanky torso and ripped jeans hung low along his waist.

  A thick lump formed in the base of my throat. I knew people would have assumptions as to why I was there. There were a few others, but I knew they didn’t want to be revealed, either. The truth would put all of us in an even more fragile state.

  “You have the wrong person,” I said, attempting to pull my arm out of his grasp, but he was stronger than me.

  His long fingers tightened around the thin, long black sleeves that covered my bony arm. He took a few more steps, dipping his head down, and the smell of smoke and cinnamon smacked me in the face. I shivered when his mouth hit my ear. “No, I saw you on the news. I know what happened to you. I know where you’re from.”

  My throat tightened against the lump and made it difficult for me to tell him to leave me the hell alone. “Awe babe,” he said softly, noticing my reaction, his hand loosening, before beginning to stroke my arm gently. “My bad, I didn’t mean to bring that bad shit up.” Oh really? “I just never forget a pretty face.”

  I cringed. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with this guy’s cheesy pick-up lines. “Good for you,” I bit out, pulling away from him and heading toward the doors before I took my anger or tears out on him. I couldn’t handle that being brought up. I couldn’t talk about it. It was always a green light for my turmoil emotions. Anger for what was taken away from me and tears because I knew I’d never be getting it back.

  He followed me, angling the front of his body as he took his steps before stopping in front of the door and opening it for me. “No doll, not fucking good for me. You see, if that shit didn’t happen, this pretty little face would be smiling right now. Not on the verge of bursting into tears or possibly punching me in the face.” And I wouldn’t be here at all, dumbass.

  “You have no idea what I’m on the verge of,” I said, pointing to the lenses covering my near-to-tears eyes. I stepped forward quickly and let the door shut in his face. He quickly caught up and kept following me as I picked up my pace. My irritation heightened when his hand
wrapped around my arm again, and he spun me around to face him. He reached out, and his rough palms stroked the apples of my cheeks.

  “But you are, love.”

  “You know nothing,” I rushed out, swiping his hand away from me for what felt like the millionth time and stormed down the hallway. He yelled incoherent words from behind me, but I ignored him, and pulled out the crumbled paper from my pocket as I went in search of my locker.

  I squeezed myself into the tiny space in front of my locker as bodies bumped into me. I opened my bag and began transferring books into the slender compartment. My bag vibrated, and I pulled out my phone with anticipation. She’d called me back.

  The anticipation died, and my shoulders dropped when I eyed the name flashing across my phone’s screen. I tapped the ignore button and tossed the phone back in my bag. I didn’t have the patience to deal with his shit.

  “You can’t keep ignoring me, Tessa,” the husky voice growled behind me, causing every book in my hand to collapse onto the dingy linoleum floor as I jumped. Ignoring him, I bent down, picked them up, and tossed them onto the top shelf. “Tessa,” he said, repeating my name, his voice deeper.

  I sighed loudly. “I haven’t been ignoring you.” I kept my eyes on the locker as I balanced my bag on the clip to hold it up.

  “Will you please look at me?”

  I turned around, leaning half of my body against the open locker as I grabbed onto the edge of the door to support my weight. Dawson wouldn’t leave me alone until I heard him out. I knew him too well to think otherwise. His six-two frame lingered over me, his deep-set blue eyes zeroed in on mine, and his muscled arms folded across his broad chest. His ashen blond hair was damp and had grown out since I’d last seen him, and a few days worth of scruff spread across his cheeks.

  “That’s bullshit,” he said, his eyes hard. “Your car is sitting in the driveway every damn time I come over. Yet, no one will answer the door, except for Derrick, and he tells me you’re holed up in your bedroom sleeping. I know your number hasn’t changed considering I just watched you look at my name and hit the fuck-you button.”

  I eyed him reluctantly. “You of all people should understand how hard this day is going to be for me. I’m just trying to get it over with and I don’t need any more stresses.” I averted my eyes back to the dirty floor to avoid his reaction. I knew how I was treating him was shitty, but I didn’t have the energy to fix it. I didn’t have the energy to deal with the hurt I was going through, let alone help someone else.

  “Any more stresses?” he asked, dumbfounded. “You think this day is going to be happy go fucking lucky for me? We were all supposed to stick together, remember? He was my best friend. I miss him, too. I feel your pain, so why won’t you talk to me about it?”

  He was right. The three of us had made a pact at his funeral. We’d always be there for one another. Rain or shine, day or night, tomorrow or in a decade. But Daisy had bailed on the promise, leading me to bail next, and leaving Dawson in the dust. With Tanner gone, our support chain had rusted, the links falling off, and releasing us all on our own.

  The bell rang, saving me from continuing our conversation as students began shoving their belongings into their lockers, and slamming the metal doors shut. “Call me tonight,” I breathed out, grabbing a book and shutting my own locker. “We’ll talk.”

  “If you don’t answer your phone, I’m coming over, and banging on your door until someone opens it,” he warned.

  I knew he wasn’t lying, either. “Fine,” I said, nodding. “Just let me get to class. You know how I am about being late.”

  I set my tray on an empty, round table and pulled out a chair to sit down. My first three classes had been a boring, painful affair. I already knew the material. I could’ve probably taught it better than the teacher. I’d taken the classes my junior year and had planned on taking college courses, but changed my mind when it came time to actually choosing my schedule. If I already knew the material, all I’d have to do is show up to class and that was it. No studying, no stress, nothing.

  I opened a bottle of water and looked around the busy lunchroom. Tables were packed with people yelling at each other and shoving food down their throats. My eyes scanned the room and fell on Dawson. He was at a table with his friends, Cody and Ollie. They’d gone to our old school and played football together. I saw a small conversation happening between them, but there were no smiles or laughs. It was a hard day for all of us.

  “Well, if it’s isn’t the prettiest girl in the room.” I looked away from Dawson to find the guy from this morning tossing his tray onto my table and pulling out the chair next to me.

  “Please don’t call me that,” I grumbled. What did this guy want from me?

  I pulled my fork from the plastic wrapper, tried my hardest to act like he wasn’t there, and poked at something that looked like macaroni and cheese. I didn’t have an appetite, but playing with my food sounded more appealing than having a conversation with him.

  He opened up his milk carton, took a long chug, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re not a very talkative one,” he said, taking another swig while waiting for me to say something.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, suddenly, finally looking up at him. My eyes moved away from him briefly and noticed Dawson staring our way.

  The guy grinned and held out his hand. “Reese, and you never mentioned yours, gorgeous.” I rolled my eyes and ignored his hand. He looked down at it, shrugged, and smiled.

  “Tessa, and please, spare me the ridiculous pick up lines,” I answered.

  I looked far from gorgeous today. My slim body now carried extra weight around my hips and thighs. The blonde hair that was once full of shine and bounce from the curls I’d spend hours perfecting were now straight, dull, and pulled into a sloppy ponytail. My face was clear of make-up, not even a hint of mascara, and I’d spotted a few blemishes around my chin when I woke up this morning. I wasn’t wearing a mini-skirt or my best back-to-school outfit like most of the girls. I’d thrown on a pair of jeans and a black, long-sleeve scoop neck top. Nothing about me screamed gorgeous.

  “They’re not ridiculous if they’re true.”

  Cue eye roll number two.

  I didn’t have time for this shit, either. I pushed my tray forward, settled my elbows on the table, and looked directly at him. “Look, I appreciate you trying to be nice and friendly to the new girl and all, but I’m really not in the mood for the welcome to the new school gig you’re playing. I’m sure you can find someone else who will appreciate your attention.” I was sure girls fell at his booted feet and right into his arms.

  His dark eyes widened in amusement. “Oh babe, trust me. I’m far from being on the welcome committee.” He laughed deeply from the bottom of his throat. “I’m the last person they’d want new kids to be around in this shit hole. I’m what they refer to as a bad influence and a delinquent,” he paused, “their words, not mine.” He grabbed the pizza slice on his tray and took a giant bite. “Look, we don’t even have to talk. How about I sit here and keep you company. If you feel like striking up conversation, we’ll talk. If not, we don’t have to. I’ll sit here quietly and eat my grub.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t need company. I’d like to be left alone.”

  “I get it. I get it.” I raised a brow. He didn’t get shit. He didn’t get anything about me. If he did, he’d be running for the hills. “You’re sad and you want to be left alone. You basically hate everyone. You’re isolating yourself, but that only makes things worse.”

  “Didn’t you just say you’d sit here quietly?”

  “I will, just let me say one more thing.” He didn’t wait for me to answer or give him permission. He just kept talking. “After awhile, you’re sucked in, and it’s too late for you to find your way back. Trust me.” I stayed silent and he perked up in his chair. “Look, there’s this party tonight. Come. I recognized you crying on the news at your brother’s funeral. I know what happ
ened to you.”

  A daunting memory smashed into my brain. The news vans, I’d lost count of how many, had been parked in front of our house for weeks. Cameras and microphones were shoved into our faces as reporters begged for any comment they could get. The American people loved victims of tragedy, they’d say. Those people, who’d sit in front of their TVs, buy magazines with the appealing headlines, or tweet about our loss, had no idea. We wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, not showcase our pain nationally.

  “I promise it will help you get your mind off all your crazy shit going on. At least for a night,” he added. I’d practically told him I hated people, and now he was inviting me to a party?

  “Thanks for the invite, but I’ll pass.” I probably sounded like a total bitch, but I couldn’t help it.

  He fished a pen from his pocket and clicked it open. “Here’s my number.” He grabbed the napkin from my tray and began scribbling it down. “And here’s the address,” he added, pointing to the sloppy handwriting. “I hope you come out. I give you my word it will help you get out of this funk. The longer you allow yourself to stay this way, the harder it is to get out. I can’t say I know how to get rid of your pain, but I can make you immune to it for awhile.” I stayed quiet. “It was nice to meet you, Tessa.”

  He picked up his tray without saying another word, walked away, and joined a crowded table in the center of the room. He ignored the chaos of the people surrounding him at the table and kept his eyes on me like I was the most intriguing thing in the room. But they also looked predatory, like he wouldn’t stop until he had me in his grasps. I quickly looked away, my eyes meeting Dawson’s, before picking up my tray and dashing out of the lunchroom.

  Tessa

  My knees hit freshly grown grass as I settled down onto the ground. I took a deep breath before slowly opening my eyes and staring at the stone in front of me. Panic coursed through my veins every time I saw it. I re-lived the sound of gunshots every time I read the words. Seeing his name etched in the rough stone was like living the nightmare over and over again.