by K. S. Adkins
“She’s confused and unstable right now, god dammit, you can help her!” yells Rafe.
“She is not! She is the most stable person I know!” she yells. “She’s a control freak, dammit! Not violent! I can’t do this to her! She doesn’t want this.”
“You’ll refuse to help her?” he asks.
“She’s my best friend, god dammit! I won’t do this to her! You don’t know her!”
“Yeah? Well you don’t know shit!”
I hear them argue, I can’t stand the fear I hear in Macy’s voice, or the pity in Rafe’s. I begged and nothing. Still here, still suffering, still weak. I’m holding it in, barely. I hear words they use to describe me and that hurts. I cover my ears to block them out. I sound horrible to my own ears. The need to retreat into myself is within reach. I just need to get the hurt out of my system first, then…then I can hide. I can’t even hide in peace when I hear his voice.
Ignoring the pain in my head and heart, I start screaming. I don’t think I’m saying anything, I just know it feels good to let it out. I scream so loud, I think my skull has split, letting my soul drift out. I scream so loud that my own ears are ringing. I scream so loud that my voice cuts off. So I scream silently in my head instead. I picture his face. I remember all the lies, the promises, the smiles, the tenderness, the protection, the betrayal.
I want to remember what this feels like for the rest of my life.
Never forget, won’t forget. The story of my fucking life.
The look of utter loss then resignation on her face was a low moment for me. She looked to me to tell her differently, and when I couldn’t? When she turned away from me, I knew right then, that I’d lost her. The smug look on Tony’s face, and the disgust on Rafe’s, I suppose I’ve earned it from both. Tony approaches me and, for the first time in my life, I have no fight in me. The only comfort I can muster is that she doesn’t want him, either. She’s on the other side of that door suffering, and she doesn’t want me to ease her.
Why should she? I’m the cause of her pain.
Gallo is inching toward me, and I know he has shit he’s dying to say. I’m not in the right frame of mind to argue with him why I’m the better man. He got off on what went down in there, and I should have known it was coming. He’s been dropping hints since the day I met his sorry ass. Motherfucker was waiting for this. I’m not even pissed that he found me out. It was the delivery.
“It was always going to end like this. I’ve always known who you are Detective. I gave you a real opportunity and you ruined it. She was always mine, Detective. For a bit there you had actually been the victor. She honestly loved you, which shocked the hell out of me. I was never going to give her up without a fight, but then I figured it out. Your mistake was my in you fucked up, Detective. The only thing that she values? Trust. I saw my opportunity and took it. You can’t fault me for that. If there is one thing she and I share, it's loyalty, Detective. When your department had her arrested, did she give up anything on me? That’s right, she said nothing. When she needed something done? She came to me. I know you hated it. Good. I had hoped you would. She will never follow the law to the letter like you, even though she tried. Again, for you. Me? I love her for who she is. Can you say the same?” make it a point to pay attention to who I bring into the fold, Detective. Especially, where she’s concerned. You knew only what I wanted you to know. What’s been going on is bigger than you, Detective. Now that you’re out of the way, I can put this to bed, without the interference of your department.”
“Max in on this, too?” I ask.
“Max doesn’t have a clue,” he says.
“All of this was worth it? Hurting her?”
“You hurt her, Detective,” he says. “I’ll be the one picking up the pieces. She’s pissed at me now for gloating, but I’ve never lied to her, and she always forgives me for my shortcomings.”
“I won’t give her up.”
“You won’t have to,” he says, and walks away, smiling.
Everything I’ve done has put Gallo in the running to step in when I fucked it up. And I did fuck it up. He knew I would, I knew I would. I should have told her the truth. From the second I saw her, I put him between us. She’s always been honest with me. I look down at myself, and see the name tag I’m wearing. It says ‘Visitor’, yet the first person she asked for is no longer welcome here. I also can’t bring myself to leave, in case she changes her mind.
I start pacing near the door when I hear yelling. I open the door, and two things happened at once. My heart stopped beating then all the air left my lungs. My Angel is curled into a ball, squeezing her head.
I hear them, but she’s all I see.
“Please, Macy,” she begs. “I’m gonna lose it, knock me out!”
“Do it, Macy,” says Rafe. “Give her some peace, I’ll be here.”
“You don’t understand,” she pleads. “She hates not being in control, Rafe I can’t!”
“She isn’t in control now,” he says. “If she gets destructive, She’ll hurt herself.”
“You don’t get it!” she yells. “She is not a victim!”
“She’s confused and unstable right now, god dammit, you can help her!” yells Rafe.
“She is not! She is the most stable person I know!” she yells. “She’s a control freak, dammit! Not violent! I can’t do this to her! She will hate me for it after!”
“You’ll refuse to help her?”
“She’s my best friend, god dammit! I won’t do this to her! You don’t know her!”
“Yeah? Well you don’t know shit!”
“Angel,” I say, coming to the side of the bed. “Angel, come back to me.”
“She doesn’t want you in here,” Macy says, distraught.
“I can’t be anywhere else,” I say, looking down the woman who holds my heart.
“You’re not helping, man,” says Rafe.
“Neither are the two of you,” I say. “Let me bring—“ Then she starts screaming so loud, it hurts my ears. She won’t stop. She’s gripping her head, pulling her hair. Her screams are getting louder and her voice is giving out. She’s not thrashing, but I’m afraid she’s going to bust her staples with the hair pulling. Macy is frozen. Rafe is frozen. I’m frozen. Then, like before, she just stops. No one moves. Macy is bawling, Rafe looks shattered seeing her this way, and she won’t let me help her. She just sits there, vacant. Not moving, not even blinking. If devastation had a state, she’s in it.
We sit around her hospital bed for hours, no response. Knowing I couldn’t take it anymore, I lean into her, willing to beg her, to do anything she says as long as she comes back.
“Angel,” I say, taking her hand. “Please, come back to me.”
“Venessa,” says Rafe. “Come back from wherever you are.”
“Venessa,” says Macy taking her other hand. “You’re too strong to quit. Don’t quit on me. Don’t you fucking quit! You’re all I’ve got, please…”
Nothing.
Another 4 hours later…
“Venessa Laurel Cross,” Macy says firmly. “When we were in fourth grade, Bobby Oliver pulled my dress down at recess, do you remember that? I do. You punched him, and then took his pants and threw them in a puddle for me.”
“Hey, Kharma,” says Rafe. “A couple weeks ago, I saw you knocking a cop around. Do you remember when I grabbed you for hitting that cop, and you kicked my fucking ass? I do. You kicked my ass good, girl, come on back now and I’ll give you a free swing at me.”
“Angel,” I say. “Four days ago, you told me you’d love me forever, do you remember that? I do. I need you to come back to me and tell me that I fucked up, but that you love me anyway. We haven’t had our forever yet.”
“Venessa,” Macy says. “You’ve always been my best friend, my sister, and my champion. Let me be both those things for you now. Come back, sweetheart. Fight. Help us fight the bad guys. We all love you, let us show you, okay? But you have to come back. I’m not going to do all the
talking here. You have to fight back. I’m heading home to get the house ready for you, so if you don’t want to stay with me, you need to say so, because you know how I love 80’s music. I bet Rogan will let you listen to your death metal at your place.”
Nothing.
Macy looks devastated, and Rafe looks ready to snap. I need to them both to leave so I can bring her back.
“I need you two to go, so I can bring her back, okay?” I ask Macy.
“If she gets worse…“ she says.
“Rafe has permission to knock me out,” I say.
“I would, too, Macy,” he says. “With pleasure.”
“I’ll be back in the morning,” she says, hesitant to go.
“Macy,” says Rafe.
“Later, Rafe,” she says, walking away.
“Shit. She called me Rafe. I was trying to apologize,” he says.
“I know the feeling,” I say, looking over to her. “I won’t upset her.”
“If you do…“ he warns.
“I know, Rafe,” I say. “I know. You gonna follow her?”
“Better stay here and make sure you don’t fuck up again,” he says. ‘I’ve pissed her off enough tonight. I’ll wait until morning. She was right, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I say. “She was.”
“Fuck,” he says, walking away.
Am I proud of the way I handle things? Honestly, I don’t really care one way or the other. When I get that far gone, my mind shuts down, and my body takes over. Macy turns to chocolate, my mom would take a walk, Maddy would pout, my dad would sneak a cigar but, I shut down. It’s how I cope. I revisit the night I lost my entire family. Even looking at my sister's broken neck, my Mom shot execution style, reaching for her youngest in death, and my Dad trussed up, then forced to hear my torture, only to be shot the same way…
None of that hurts like betrayal does. Maybe because they never betrayed me? I’ve never allowed anyone close enough to do it, and now I know why. It’s a hurt you can’t describe. When a person tells you they love you, you tend to believe them, yeah? Why would you say it otherwise? To believe that person, then love them back in equal measure, only to find out that, yes, they do love you, but…Just not enough?
I may be fucked up, but even I understand the concept of forgiveness. I’m not against it, I just don’t know how it works. What’s forgivable and what isn’t? Cheating is wrong. Abuse is wrong. Where does spying and lying about it fit in? The Captain doesn’t surprise me. I mean, it’s his job to be resourceful. But my partner lied to me. The same partner who gave me the big speech about what being partners means.
Being honest with myself, I am upset that I didn’t know there was a tracker in my phone. Hello! Look who you’re dealing with! But truth is, I didn’t even consider him capable of something like this. Part of me still feels protected by the fact they did it for me, but it’s the spying that hurts. I’ve never been super open with Macy, not like other women are with their friends. Just as I was opening up to her about these new thoughts and feelings, he was listening when it wasn’t his place. From the first time he approached me, and I wrestled him to the ground, I was convinced he knew me better than I did. He was so in tune with me, I didn’t question it, because it felt like a gift. He knew instinctively how to bring me back, and he knew down deep his touch would do it. His touch has grounded me, since the first time I touched him. I’ve grown to need him more than I’ve ever needed anything. That’s what hurts most. How do I function without him? The answer is, I can’t.
Now I’m here, hiding in my void. That place where I’m aware, but not responsive. I hear the love in Macy’s voice, and the worry, too. Rafe and I seem to have a kinship, so I know he’s worried. Although, it’s cute that the worry is more for Macy’s well-being than mine, she just doesn’t know it yet. Then there’s Rogan, he’s suffering, too. Here’s a man who has beat himself up repeatedly since the day we met. He’s always trying to save me. What would I do if the roles were reversed? Would I listen, too? I’d like to say that I wouldn’t, but I’m not sure that’s true.
I want to forgive, but where to start? I’m trying to solve this in my head, but it’s difficult when your heart is broken and your head was literally just stapled shut. So many emotions, so many questions, so much uncertainty. That’s why I’m going to stay hidden for a while longer. I don’t want to open the flood gate until I know what I’m going to say. I can’t face reality until I’ve figured out whether or not there’s a place in my life for him anymore. Deep down, I know I’m taking the coward's way out, but I don’t know how to else to handle this.
My mom used to love to give me advice. She had advice about everything. Funny, after all this time, I can’t remember any of it. My dad’s answer for everything was ‘ask your Mother’, and I used to get so pissed. I need my mom right now. Before I can wallow in missing her, it’s my little sister's voice that pops into my head. When she was six, I gave her a doll that my mom had given me. I was too old for dolls, then. I brought it over to her room, and told her she was big enough to have it. I explained it was porcelain, and that it would break if she wasn’t careful with it.
She loved that doll. She put the doll her on her nightstand to admire it. One night, she knocked her over and broke her. I heard her crying, because I was still awake cramming for finals. I ran to her room and asked her what was wrong.
‘She was fragile, I broke her, Nessa’, she says, crying in my arms.
‘Maybe I can fix her,’ I say. ‘Give her to me.’
‘I broke her, I fix her,’ she says, turning away and taking the doll with her.
‘Who will fix you, Maddy?’ I ask. ‘I don’t like it when you’re sad.’
‘I’m not broken, silly,’ she says. ‘I’m tough like you, I won’t never break.’
Am I tough? Or am I breaking?
I realized I’m both.
Despite my past, the traits I had as a kid are still in me somewhere. When my dad was caught up in a case and couldn’t make it to my games, I understood. When my mom wasn’t able to drop me off at the mall with friends because she was busy with Maddy, I got it. When Macy sets me straight, it pisses me off, but I forgive her because I love her. When Rogan choked out my neighbor, I told him he never had to apologize for protecting me. In fact, I love his aggressive side.
I guess, if I was looking at all sides fairly, he was doing this to protect me. I get that, too. It doesn’t erase the hurt, but it does help to make sense of it. I don’t like being apart from him, and I don’t like being a coward either. Even knowing he heard things he wouldn’t have had he not been listening, at the end of the day it doesn’t change the way I feel, it doesn’t change us. Why am I letting it change us? I’m hurt because I’ve never lied to him, I wouldn’t ever lie to him, and if I’m being honest, it hurts because I feel like I’ve trusted him with everything, whereas he didn’t really trust me at all.
Again, if I’m being objective, he knows I’ve never lied to him, so everything he’s heard he knew I spoke the truth so why did he continue to do it? I suppose if I want to find out, I’ll need to put on my big girl panties and find out for myself. I’ve never backed down from anything in my life, certainly nothing as important as us, and I don’t intend to start now.
I’m finished hiding. I have to face this. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I’m ready to come back now. We need to talk this out. I can’t lose the best thing to ever happen to me. There are a few things I know for certain: You never know when you’re number is going to be up, everyone lies sometimes, and we were meant to be together. If forgiveness means moving past this lie, loving each other while we’re here, and hope that we get taken out together when the time comes, then I’m all over this forgiveness thing. He’s the one I want to live for and die with. I could barely handle a few hours without him in silence, let alone a lifetime.
When I hide out like this, it doesn’t take me long to find my way back, because I’m choosing to. I’ve d
one this so many times, I’ve got it down to a science. Bottom line, he’s mine, and we need to figure this out.
I’m watching him stare at his hands, and then suddenly he stands up and comes over to my hospital bed and sits on the edge. He’s doing something with my phone, and I’m fascinated just watching him. Whatever he’s doing has his total concentration. He turns to me and sets my phone in my lap, then hits play.
It takes me a moment, then I hear a song I played not too long ago, being played back to me. I absorb the lyrics, letting them do their job and heal me, knowing he’ll take care of the rest. I look up from my phone and he’s looking at his hands again. I reach forward and take his hands in mine, needing him to look at me. He doesn’t look up, but closes his eyes instead. He’s punishing himself again, and it’s my fault this time. I squeeze his hands harder which, given my state of affairs, is still pretty weak. I just need to see his eyes, I just need him to look at me, and tell me we’ll figure this out.
I don’t know what else to do.
Rafe keeps opening up the door to check on her, and I keep shaking my head.
No change.
Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the reason the person you love goes fucking catatonic?
I need her to come back. Even if it’s just to tell me that she hates me, and to fuck off. She just needs to come back. The doc says physically, she’s fine, she’s healing, so in this case, medicine can’t help. It’s up to her to come back because she wants to.
She’s strong, she’ll come back, and I know it deep. It’s a miracle I won her once. I’ll fucking do it again, no problem. This time, nothing stands in my way. No lies, no bullshit, no competition. Tony? Who’s Tony? I don’t know any Tony.
James Laurel or whoever the fuck he is? I’ll rip his head from his neck, and put it on a platter for her, if that’s what it takes. No obstacles. We’ll keep this pure. Nothing will taint us.
Determined, I scroll through her phone and find the first song I ever heard her sing. The night I promised myself that I would save her or die trying. I stand up and take two steps, and sit on the edge of her bed because I can’t be away from her anymore. If she wants me to move, she’s going to have to say so. I turn the phone facing her, and place it on top of the blanket in her lap. I hit play. I watch her, waiting for recognition. Seconds later, without even blinking, she takes both of my hands in hers. The pain and relief I feel is so intense, I can’t even look at her. The song continues to play, and I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I haven’t cried since I was a little kid, but I could feel the burn, afraid to open them, afraid to let them free. She squeezes me again, but I can’t bear to see the pain in her eyes.
