by Leanne Davis
Chapter Six
~Seth~
Her phone call comes while I’m in the middle of doing some push–ups. I have a daily ritual and perform a hundred each of push–ups, sit–ups, and crunches. Anyway, I’m doing that when I get her text. After I finish, I glance at it and see her name.
I need help. No one else will help me. I’m at the water tower. Can you come get me? Please?
At the water tower? What a weird place to be at freaking nine o’clock at night, especially on another breath–freezing, cold, and dark evening. My heart pings with worry. What the hell? Why would she want me? I’m not the person she goes to for anything. At all. I frown at the screen and read it three times before climbing to my feet. I’m wearing black basketball shorts and no shirt. I have to dress quickly so I throw on more clothes and head out. I know where she is: at an old, rickety water tower that has probably not been used in thirty years, which sits outside town. The road leading up to it is only frequented by the few farmers that live along it. But since the land is so flat around here, you can see it for miles. I speed to her location, not caring if the cops are out and about. Perhaps I’ll even ask for their help if I should get caught. Something feels very off, way more off than any other time that Melissa has acted up. I know she left to be with Anand. What the hell? Her parents throw her out and tell her she’s supposed to figure out her life so she goes off and stays with drug–dealing bikers? She sure as heck knows that’s all they are.
I roar over the back roads. I’m in the middle of nowhere and I can see forever under the big, bright white moon, like an ethereal flashlight illuminating the flat vista. The water tower looms up ahead. I slam on my brakes to stop. My Jeep skids in the gravel–strewn lot. The place is creepy and empty. No other cars anywhere. I glance around… and then look up.
Melissa.
She’s actually up on top of it. I never expected that. I figured she’d simply be here, waiting on the ground. It’s been a popular spot for parties, but is also patrolled by the cops due to the high incidence of traffic. I sprint across the parking lot and slip through the torn fencing that once diligently surrounded the old structure. Now it is loose and unraveled, and in several spots, the chain link mesh simply hangs uselessly, inviting anyone to walk through it.
Scrambling to the bottom of the tower, I spot a ladder. It’s made of metal and very narrow, running straight up several stories. She’s all the way up there too. Swaying and kind of stepping around. My heart lodges in my throat. She isn’t stable. I know that much. Her posture suggests she’s high on something. Or drunk. Why up there? Without even a secure railing to keep her from falling? My head twists around, and I notice what a long fall it is down to the ground. It would break her neck, her back, and paralyze or even kill her. A fall from there would mean death for Melissa.
I don’t waste time calling out to her but scurry up the ladder without stopping. Its icy cold metal cuts through my hands like knives when I grab the rails. The frost makes them even more slippery. I glance down. I’ve never been afraid of heights, but climbing up this isn’t the best recipe. I don’t doubt I can hold on, only how I’ll get her down.
I pull up and grip the metal gangway. It has sharp ridges to provide more traction under my shoes. It also gives the illusion of the ground below us being further. The metal railing is loose in several spots, including right where Melissa is standing. I can see her staring down at the ground as if in deep contemplative thought. I have no idea what she’s doing or why. She appears to be studying the ground.
“Melissa?” I call out to her, trying to keep my voice calm and soothing. I want to sound as if I’m comfortable and in control. Most of all, I dare not startle or alarm her. I don’t want to surprise her and make her fall over the side. Why would she choose to stand there? The rickety railing is so loose, it flaps around. The bolts are missing in many places and completely gone for about four feet. She stands very close to this gap. There’s nothing to stop her from stepping off it.
No reply. Not even a glance. No flinching either. She shows no awareness of me. Spreading her hands and arms out like a kid pretending to fly, she is standing on the platform of a rickety metal building and staring down at her imminent death.
She has to be high. There is no other explanation for her odd behavior and utter lack of concern for her own safety.
I try again, keeping my voice low and authoritative, trying to grab her attention. “Missy? Missy, please just look at me.”
She doesn’t turn toward me, but instead steps forward. I gasp. What the heck? I move closer to her as quickly as I can, while hugging the broad side of the tower. When I get near enough, I say, “Please, Missy, just step back. Towards me. Please. Come towards me.”
I am begging her. I want to simply freaking grab her, but I fear anything could make her slip. Her toes are no more than two inches from the edge of the platform and she’s swaying precariously. It’s obvious she seems comfortable doing that and being there. She shows neither panic nor joy at my presence. If she was right in the head, she’d be paralyzed with fear and calling out to me in terror and need. She would plead for me to save her.
I inch closer to her, trying to move slowly so as not to make her step forward or even to the side. I worry she could lose her balance. My heart is hammering loudly, and my blood rushes, although I have never been so scared at this height for myself. I’ve climbed and skied the backcountry cornices and the rock faces of mountains and volcanoes. And never once has it scared me. Not like this. I am really scared. It intensifies with each beat of my heart and my hands are growing clammy and I feel slightly faint. I’m on edge strictly because of my fear for Melissa falling, not for myself. “Missy… please… please take my hand.”
Her eyes are glassy. She finally meets my gaze, and hers drops to my hand, which I keep outstretched towards her. I brace myself against the side of the tower, prepared to lunge forward and grab her body, praying her weight doesn’t make me lose my balance. She lifts her eyes back to mine. “Why, Seth? You don’t even like me.”
Shit! I never swear out loud and rarely do it even inside my head, but right now? This time, no other word can describe the hopelessness now filling me, as well as the fear.
“I like you just fine, Missy. I’m here, right? You texted me and here I am. Now, give me your hand.”
“You don’t like me, I know you don’t.”
I close my eyes. Her body movements are far too relaxed, making her extremely reckless. Apparently, she does not realize she is dangling nearly ten stories above the ground in frigid temperatures. Her coat is thin, made for spring temperatures, not snow and ice. She can’t be warm enough, not against this biting cold. But her flushed cheeks make her seem completely oblivious to the weather and the altitude at which she stands.
“Now please, come towards me. Just… please take my hand.” I keep the exasperation, dread, and anxiety out of my voice and try to sound as convincing and calm as possible.
She shakes her head and tears fill her eyes. “You’re lying. You think I’m a slut. Worthless. I should be better. So much better… like Christina… Emily… You always had the crush on her. Not me.”
She’s sounding like a zombie, off in her own world. And I’m frustrated I can’t fool her. She’s right. I assume she’s referring to Christina when she says her. Why should it bother Melissa? Melissa never wanted me, so there is no reason she’d be bitter I had an ancient old crush on her older sister.
Melissa did nothing but tease and ridicule me. Of course, back then, she was in high school, and popular with everyone. The most popular girl in high school. I knew that and I was living clear across the damn nation at the time. But there are just some things that follow a person. She was adored, revered, and sought after. She partied often and hung out and the guys were always all over her and she liked it. Even encouraged it. I witnessed it a few times when I came to visit.
They were all popular, but for very different reasons. Christina was just so likeable. E
mily was the queen of jocks. She was into sports and athletes all the time and those guys virtually idolized her. She only had one boyfriend in high school which lasted until now, into college. Both are good, clean teenagers who don’t drink, party or do drugs. They both excel at numerous sports and are usually the star players.
Then we come to Melissa. None of those attributes could be said about her.
Again, she never was my type, but I am not blind or immune to her undeniable beauty. Not even her crass, cocky attitude could diminish her sex appeal.
After graduating high school, everyone else in her class moved on, either working, leaving Ellensburg for better, more well–known colleges and trade schools, or just to live in another town or city with more opportunities to offer. Missy? She kept partying. She still wanted to be the it girl but there wasn’t anyone left behind to care.
Then she found a new crowd. They go so far beyond anything from high school. They aren’t troublemakers or pranksters, but true criminals who conduct their business at all costs.
She’s upset and I don’t want her to cry up there. It could make her careless, or throw her balance off. Crap! I lunge for her, snatching her wrist as my other arm awkwardly goes around her waist and all at once, I pull her against me. It works. I have her locked in my arms and tug her backwards until we stumble and fall back. I wince when my butt lands on the hard, sharp edges of the metal deck–grate. It bites into my skin. But I don’t care. We fall against the side of the tower, barely one and a half feet away from the precarious edge. She falls on me, pressing her body into mine. I squeeze and desperately cling to her. My heart, after nearly exploding from the wild lunge as I grabbed her and fell backwards, finally starts to return to its normal beat.
Holding her next to me now, I push her against my torso, burying her face at the base of my neck and wrapping her arms around me. Her body is freezing. Her hands are like icicles on my bare skin when she grabs me above the collar of my coat. I feel tremors seizing her body. Does she realize what nearly happened? I lean my face back just far enough so I can see into hers. Her teeth are chattering, and her eyes are blurry with tears. I lift my hands to wipe her cheeks, feeling so overcome with relief, and a sense of total euphoria in knowing she’s okay.
“You stupid little idiot, what were you doing? You ignorant, thoughtless moron. You almost fell right in front of me.” I pull her back against me, clutching her tighter, and the desperation in my grip removes some of the sting from my words. I’m nearly overcome with panic. Now that it’s over, it feels even more powerful.
Her head shakes. Does that sober her up? Maybe. Her eyes seem clearer.
“I know. I am. I don’t know why… I just don’t know why. I’m sorry, Seth. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. So much better…” She keeps mumbling over and over again. Her face is tilted against my neck when she talks, and her lips keep touching my bare skin. I look down, and my gaze captures hers. She swallows. I can’t think, I just feel. I tip my head more until my lips find hers. Our lips clash at first, then open to each other in a sudden, nearly maniacal desire to connect.
I grip her face between my hands and pull her closer, feeling ready to devour her. She responds, straining her arms and seeming as desperate to get to me as I am to her. She scared me in a way I have never known fear before. Or human mortality. It unleashes something inside me, like nothing else. I feel wild, impulsive, and totally divorced from my normal calm, rational, and well thought–out responses. I lose myself in the wet, hot heat of her sweet mouth. Her hands grip my hair and pull it hard, almost painfully while her mouth opens up even more and her tongue slides deep down next to mine.
I moan and my entire body responds. We kiss and kiss, feeling relatively safe with my back against the tower. I doubt I’m even aware of it anymore. Her hands drift down, nearing my waist and her freezing fingers slip beneath the edge of the sweater I’m wearing, sliding up to my bare chest. She sighs into my mouth as her frigid hands nest in my body’s warmth. Then she ventures even lower. My thighs part, allowing her full access. I let her hand touch me.
In a crazy, stupid, breathtaking scramble of clothes—which I have no idea how it all even worked, we could barely maneuver, but somehow—her leggings lower, and my pants are swiftly undone before our lower halves find each other. In a matter of mere minutes, I gratefully sink inside her hot, warm slickness. I groan and our mouths stay connected. She feels so perfect. Warm and tight, like an erotic message. She moves her hips up and down and I push up in tandem, straining to keep her there. Her unparalleled warmth as her slim body receives me fills my mind with bliss.
I am lost inside her with no conscious thoughts anymore. Nothing grounds me to earth. Nothing feels like this. I don’t know how I managed to miss it until now. Nothing like this. I don’t mean to do it. Certainly not this way. Or with her. But now that I am, I cannot stop. I groan into her mouth and quickly, way too quickly, I’m filling her up as I come and it overheats my entire body. I’m gripping her against me as if she is the last thing I will ever touch or need.
But it all starts to fade and my boiling blood stops rushing inside my ears. The former sensation that time and reality were somehow suspended begins to vanish. Was I really sitting on an old water tower, clinging to a girl who nearly threw herself off it? My skin starts to cool down from the intense heat. Her shivering body enters my stream of consciousness. She leans closer, still half naked and pressed against me. And I to her.
My head falls back, making a soft thunk! against the side of the water tower. What have I done? What did I just do? Not to mention, who did I do it with and where and under what circumstances? Insane? So far beyond it. So far beyond insanity, and a rising wave of shame immediately overwhelms me, efficiently obliterating the cherished moments before that were filled with an ecstasy I never knew existed. I thought I knew everything. I thought I understood the workings of the world, but I obviously don't. Not this. Nothing so powerful as this was.
Melissa is not a well girl and this is how I treat her? I close my eyes, and the grim realization hits me like a bowling ball being swung into my gut. I can’t believe it. I don’t know what possessed me, or why or how I could have let this happen. Minutes. It all escalated to this in a matter of mere minutes. She is shivering, freezing, high and mentally not all there, and I do this to her? I bang my head against the metal. I deserve a flogging.
Gently loosening her grip on me, I lean forward far enough to take my parka off. She sits back, her eyes cast down. Is she confused? I have no idea. Does she even know what happened? My stomach quivers. What if she doesn’t? Does that mean I’ve somehow taken advantage of her without her consent? The thought of that sickens me. There is nothing I can do to change it now.
I fidget around until I can maneuver my coat over her shoulders. “Put your arms inside it, Missy,” I say in a tone I’ve never used with her before. It’s gentle, tender, and almost coaxing. It sounds odd coming from me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever spoken to anyone else like that. Whatever happened here, it’s a game changer for us. I already feel different about her. She obeys me without argument, sliding her arms in and lifting up high enough that I can pull her pants back up along with my own. I slowly stand with a freaking blush, of all things, coloring my face as I try to zip and snap my pants. She’s standing before me. A head shorter than me. She’s tall for a girl, but I’m much taller than her. Leaning forward, I grip the two sides of the coat and fit the zipper together before slowly tugging it up. She watches my hands and her eyes rise to mine. Something flutters inside my chest. Her dark eyes are huge.
“You’re always giving me your coat.”
I glance down at her, surprised at her first comment. After all the drama of the last hour, and that’s what she has to say? A small smile tugs my mouth as I reply, “Yeah, well that’s because you never remember yours.”
She’s still shivering and I’m worried now, for her. Never mind what we’ve done. She’s pale, and her eyes are unfocused. I ta
ke her hand in mine and turn to lead her toward the ladder. It’s several steps away, so I keep us flattened against the side of the tower. She follows me easily, like a trusting child. Whatever she’s high on, her mindset seems to be that of a small child.
Flashes of the plethora of issues I’ll soon be accounting for after tonight and the previous trust I’ve violated with her and her parents befuddle my mind. They trusted me with her, and she trusts me not to be like Anand and every other loser she chooses to sleep with. And I do this?
I shake it off. Not now. I have to get us down from here, and safe and warm. Somewhere private where we can make sure she is okay. “I’m going down first and I want you to come right after me, so I’ll be here below you the whole time, okay? Missy? Can you do this?”
She nods, but I don’t trust her. The damn ladder is so friggin’ cold that it’s painful on bare skin and her grip on it is all that would keep her from plummeting straight to the ground. Again, heights never scare, intimidate, or even make me pause, but this does. I need for her to listen to me and concentrate. I step through the hole, tightly gripping the ladder. “Okay, Missy, come now.”
She obeys me immediately and we descend nearly in tandem. I take one rung and so does she. Slow and steady. She misses the rung with her foot once, but quickly corrects it. I marvel that she too seems completely unperturbed by the height. She complains about her cold hands, and I agree with her, but says nothing about the extreme height? The chance of falling doesn’t seem to faze her in the least. I wonder if it’s a side effect from whatever pill she’s taken.
Finally, my feet hit the solid, cold, crunchy earth. So do hers.
I again take her hand, unsure why I feel the need to. Before now, I never once felt the urge to touch her. Her hands are as cold as mine, so we’re like two ice cubes trying to cozy up. I rub her hand, pulling it up to my mouth, and blowing my warm breath over her fingers as I rub them with mine. She stares up at me. Her eyebrows lower in complete puzzlement. I am equally as lost. I have no idea what I’m doing or why; much less what the hell changed so completely and so quickly.
