"Where is she?" He's calling out frantically. I would answer him, but I can't bring myself to speak.
"Over here, Harry." Eli yells from the back of the ambulance where he's sitting across from Trish.
"Hey honey, are you okay?" Trish asks giving me the poor pitiful you look.
I shake my head no.
Dad climbs into the ambulance, pushing Eli out of the way, "Shayleigh, oh God." He pulls me up into his arms. I can't muster the desire to hug him. I feel like anything is too much effort, like the simple act of blinking and breathing is almost too much. It is too much.
Dad puts me down and looks me over. "She wasn't shot?"
"No, they checked her out," Eli lets him know.
"Whose blood is this?" He's looking at my clothes. What blood?
"The shooter's," Eli responds, without taking his eyes off of me.
"They got him?" Anger plays in Dad's voice.
"He got himself," Eli answers. "You know, she saved a lot of people in there. She's a real hero," Eli says full of pride. His statement makes me feel sick. It makes me wish I had something in my stomach to throw up so I could purge myself of this feeling.
"You hear that, honey? You're a hero," Dad says, offering a sad smile.
Sitting up in the bed with new found energy I yell out, "I am not a hero." I turn to Eli. "His name was Jorge, not 'the shooter.'"
"You really are a hero," Trish offers, knitting her eyebrows with concern.
"Fuck you, don't ever say that again. I'm not a fucking hero." I try to get up off the gurney but Dad pushes me back down.
"Shayleigh, I'm going to need you to calm down and stay put." He gives me the negotiator tone.
"No Dad, I need to get out of here." I look down and notice I'm still covered in blood. Even though the brain matter is gone, I can still see it on my pants, in my hair. It's all over me and I need to wash it all off. I need to get it out. "Let me out!"
"Honey, you need to calm down. Please, you need to just lie back." He puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me down. He turns to Eli. "Get the paramedics, tell them to get this bus outta here now."
"Dad, you have to let me out of here, I can't breathe. Please Dad, please just let me up. I have to get out." The hysteria is taking over again and I really feel like I'm drowning. The regret of not looking Jorge in the eye in the last minute of his life is on replay in my head. I could have done that for him. He did this because of me and I couldn't even be with him in the last second of his life for the sacrifice he made for me.
A paramedic comes in and gives Dad a knowing look while I'm still screaming a string of profanities. He pulls some supplies from the cabinets in the ambulance and I feel a sharp pain in my thigh, but only for a minute before everything goes dark.
Fuckers.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Numb
"This is your captain speaking. We are beginning our initial descent into Orlando. The temperature is a balmy seventy-five degrees with winds out of the east at three miles per hour; the local time is eleven forty-five."
This day is feeling like every other day. Maybe that's because all the days, hours and weeks are running into one another. It's been four weeks since Jorge's funeral. I still think of him every day. It used to be every moment, but now it's not as often. They say time heals all wounds. Who the fuck are 'they?' No, that's a fucking lie.
This has become such a routine: get on the plane, get off the plane, then get on again. I'm tired, just plain tired.
I wish I could look forward to dinner with Eli tonight. But I know what he wants to talk about and I'm just not up for it. I'm not up for anything.
The plane comes to a stop at the gate and everyone rushes to get off. Honestly, I'd rather sit here in first class on Raphael's dime then go and stand waiting for my bags to come from the little hole in the wall. That is if the "throwing gods" deem your bags worthy to make it from point A to point B. It's a dice roll really.
The plane empties out and I'm the last one. One of the flight attendants leans down to where I'm sitting. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, I figure why contribute to the traffic jam when I can be comfortable." I smile.
"Are you waiting for special services?" She smiles through the question.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Did you need a wheelchair?" She motions to my legs.
"No." I'm confused.
"The plane is empty; if you need assistance I can call them for you." She's still trying to smile, and I can see it in her eyes that she's trying to be as polite as possible.
"Oh yeah, sorry." I shrug and unbuckle my seat belt, take my bag out of the overhead and start to deplane.
"Aren't you that girl who took down that guy shooting up the office?" Another flight attendant asks.
"No. But I get that a lot," I say, quickening my pace off the plane.
"That's not a bad person to be associated with. She is a real hero. I heard she saved her best friend's life." The flight attendant sees through my facade. I can tell she knows I'm lying. She thinks she's doing me a favor by telling me all this, but she really isn't. I never need the extra reminder to think of Jorge and that day.
"That's what I've heard." I continue up the gangway.
Whenever I'm in public now I let my hair fall in my face, hoping that people won't notice me. Of course, it doesn't help that the asshole photographer from the magazine published the photos of the whole ordeal as it played out in my office. I'll give him credit for having the balls to take those photos, but they are the reason that I couldn't fall back into anonymity right after the incident. Those photos have been published in magazines and newspapers everywhere. The most used one was of me holding Jorge, dead on my lap.
Much to Raphael's chagrin I've turned down all the interviews with Nightline, USA Today and a few others that I can't remember. The problem with those is I might gain some notoriety, but no one will know me for my comic, only as the one who took down a mass murderer.
The train to the main terminal comes. I get on, trying to keep my head down. I fucking hate Orlando now. Everything here is beautiful pastels, hibiscus and palm trees. Let's not forget our famous rodent who put it on the map. I hate the lie that this place just is. I look around the train and see all the families smiling, full of excitement. That sort of thing used to make me happy, but now it makes me a little nauseated.
My suitcase is the only one still rolling around on the lonely carousel. See, this works out. I didn't have to fight any crowds, push through people or wait forever for my bag to be the last one to come down the chute. I grab it and head to my car.
My phone dings with several text messages. I don't even care to read them all. I don't care to read any of them.
The drive across five twenty is the same as it always is. The road is long and lonely. When I walk in my house I can feel the stale air knock me in the face. I open the windows and put my bag in my room, then lie down on the bed. All I want to do is sleep, let it take me, and like every time, I pray that I will never wake up again.
***
There are soft hands touching my neck, rubbing downward in a sensual way. They trail down over my breasts. I feel Gabriel's hot breath as he whispers in my ear, "I love you."
I can't answer him. I haven't been able to so much as think about love, never mind profess mine to anyone. Especially Gabriel. He's been nothing but a trite escape from reality. He humors me and lets me do what I want. The only thing I really can feel for Gabriel is lust. But I haven't been able to let things get to that point. I need to keep this fun. He shows me the scenes, I draw them.
Sometimes, and I hope this is going to be one of those times, he'll just hold me. We'll lie in a field or on the beach and do nothing but hold each other. That's the kind of thing I can get into right now.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, turning me over in the bed.
"Yeah, just a long day," I say with nearly no feeling at all.
"Come here." He sits up against the headboard and motions f
or me to come lie on his chest. This is what I'm looking for. I haven't been able to get anything like this from Eli. He's been distant, busy, or both. I'm not really sure.
"Thanks." I nuzzle into him.
"The Specter is on the move." He says it softly.
"I don't care. I just want to stay here."
Gabriel holds me for what feels like hours.
The feeling of safety and calm are broken when I hear Eli's voice. "Shay."
I open my eyes and see him standing in the doorway. It's dark out and I immediately feel like shit. I was supposed to meet Eli at the dinner at five thirty. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Eli. I must have—"
"Fallen asleep?" His tone is curt.
My head hangs in shame. "Yeah, it was a long flight, we had a four hour layover in Dallas."
"Well I brought you dinner." He turns around and leaves the room.
Just fuck. I get out of the bed and head for the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table, I roll the brown paper bag open. "Thanks for bringing dinner, what did you get?" There's only one box in the bag. "Did you already eat?"
"No, I'm fine." He sits on the couch.
Opening the container reveals a BLT. "Yum."
"I know that you like BLTs." He's staring down at his hands.
I take a big bite and get a soda out of the fridge. "So how was your weekend?"
"Fine." He doesn't offer any more.
"What did you do?" I'm trying to get him to say something, anything.
"Went fishing with your dad." He starts picking at his cuticles.
"Did you catch anything?" Jesus, this is like pulling teeth. I mean, I know he wants to have the talk about moving in and setting a date for the wedding, but this is ridiculous. I'm dreading it, because I don't know that I'm totally ready to give up my space.
"Listen, I wanted to meet you for dinner because I have something to talk to you about." He worries his hands on the throw pillow on the couch.
"What's up?" I ask, taking another bite.
"Shay, I think that we need to take a break." He looks up at me.
Of all times for me to have my mouth full, it had to be now? Although maybe it's a good thing, since I can't say the first thing that comes to mind, which would be a hearty “fuck you.” I swallow down the bite and put down my sandwich. "Are you talking about a vacation?" I know he's not.
"No Shay, I think we need a relationship break." He stands and comes to sit at the table.
I stare at him for a long time and consider all of the things that I know he would like me to say. None of them come. He's holding back a deluge of emotions in his eyes. I then look at him, studying how he looks in this very moment, with his watery blue orbs begging me to beg him. But I can't, I don't have it for him. I don't have it for anyone right now. I stand and throw my arms around him without saying a word. His embrace tightens as I feel his tears falling down onto my shoulders. I wish I could return those tears, every last one of them. I don't want him to feel bad; I don't want him to be sad or hurt. He's trying so hard not to shake from the sadness.
He inhales a breath next to my ear."Is this it?"
My embrace tightens around Eli. I try as hard as I can to squeeze out one tear. I'd like to poke myself in the eyes so I can show him some kind of emotion other than pity. "Yes." I whisper it so quiet I barely hear it myself.
"You have nothing else to say?" The sadness of the ages marches in his voice.
I shake my head. I just can't answer him. I have nothing for him right now; I live in constant numbness and anger. I love him, but I can't access it, I can't be what he wants. It's best for him to walk out right now. Walk out before he's sucked any deeper into my crazy.
He steps back and looks hard at me. He searches the coldness in my gaze to find any kind of hope, but it doesn't live there for him. He won't find it in me. "That's it?"
I nod and slide his ring off my finger and hand it to him. He takes it, studying it, then picks my hand up and puts the ring in the palm of my hand, closing my fingers around it. "Goodbye, Shay."
I watch him walk out the door in silence. The doorknob latching closed serves as a trigger, and the moment that sound travels to my ears, I get it. I understand what just happened. The one man in this world who will love me forever just walked out on me.
I collapse to the floor in a sobbing mess. Pain spikes through me and for the first time in a long time I can actually feel something that's stronger than apathy. My body is shaking in anguish.
Time is seeping by; waves of sobbing come and go. I don't know how long I've been lying here; my face is still moist with tears even though the sun came up hours ago.
Someone opens the door. Trish stops, looking at me on the floor. She pulls her lips to the side, showing compassion, which is a rare one for her. She comes to me and helps me up. "That fucking piece of shit. I'm so sorry, Shay. You know you don't need that douchebag."
All I can do is nod. She takes me into the bathroom and helps me into the shower. She closes the shower curtain. "I'm going to order some food."
In the shower I let the water wash him away, wash away the sadness and the fear. I let it all go down the drain and out of my life and make myself a solemn promise that I will never need another man for as long as I live.
I don't need this bullshit. I don't want this bullshit and it stops today. I will never live another day for anyone else but myself, because they all either die or abandon you. I will never be abandoned again. I will never be afraid again. I will be a stronger new and improved Shay that won't take no for an answer, won't let anyone walk all over her, and I will love and enjoy my solitude.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Birthday Girl
Three Months Later
Trish is in her glory. Who knew that an antisocial bitch would be such a great party planner. There's media, critics…shit, there's artists and creators from other companies here. I on the other hand really want to get the fuck home and just enjoy my birthday, alone.
"Isn't this fabulous?" Stephie stops in my office.
"It is," I say without looking up from my laptop.
"You should come out and meet and greet; that's what this is, a meet and greet." She bubbles over, and I love her, but I really wish she would just go have fun elsewhere.
"I'll be out in a minute. But I'm not feeling well and I think I'm going to be heading out," I tell her.
"Okay, hun, if that's what you want. It's your birthday."
Yeah, it's my birthday. I wish this day would just fucking end.
"Shay, what the fuck? This party is for you and you're hiding out in your office." Trish's voice goes right through my head sometimes.
"I'm not feeling great, and I'll be heading home in a few minutes." I put my best fake sick face on, but judging from Trish's reaction she's not buying.
She comes around my desk and starts berating me. I can't even understand what she's yelling. “Jesus Trish, just stop.” I stand up and push her backward out my door.
"Seriously, Shay? You just pushed me."
"Yes, I'm sorry I pushed you, but you wouldn't stop talking and I panicked." I feel really bad.
"We have a gift for you, at least come out and let us give it to you," she pleads.
"Okay." I pack my laptop and get everything else ready to go for my quick escape.
Everyone is waiting for me out in the main area. They are all expecting me to give some sort of speech. I don't really do speeches. McNab has been helping with that though.
Raphael comes and puts his arm around me. Good God, the smell could gag a maggot. Raphael gets more unpleasant to be near with each passing hour of the day.
"Everyone, can I have your attention?" He waits for the conversation to die down. "I would like to wish the star of our company, Shay Baynes, a very happy birthday."
Everyone applauds, and he waits until there's another hush in the room. "I would also like to congratulate her and the amazing team who have all made Sanguine Specter possible."
Again with al
l the applauds and whoop whoops. "This comic is going to put Blood-borne on the map, and each and every one of you helped make this happen. And for you industry folks joining our little celebration, I hope you've enjoyed your complimentary copies and go forth and blog, chat and shout from the mountain tops about this amazing up and coming talent we have right here, Miss Shay Baynes!" He squeezes my shoulders and whispers in my ear, "This is where you say something."
I inhale a deep breath. "Everyone, thank you so much for all the birthday wishes, and the cake. It was awesome. And thank you to everyone who's had a hand in making my dream come true. I hope that we can all benefit from the great success of Sanguine Specter."
Trish pushes through the crowd holding a big basket. "Here you go, honey, we all chipped in and got this to celebrate your birthday!" She winks at me, and I'm already having to hold the retching back at the overwhelming smell of lavender.
I open it up and smile as sweetly as I possibly can. "Thank you so much, everyone. I really appreciate it."
I filter back through the crowd, getting accolades all the way back to my office. I'm inclined to jump out the window to avoid having to go through that crowd$1 again. I get my laptop and backpack. Picking up my phone off the desk, I notice there's a text message.
I'd really love to come and be with you on your birthday. I miss you.~E
I answer him back the same way I've been answering him for the three months since he dumped me.
I'd rather be alone.~S
***
The drive home was quiet, I didn't even bother putting the radio on, preferring the drone of the little engine that could. I throw my keys and cell phone on the table and head straight for the bathroom. Putting the basket down on the floor, I start running a bath.
I look at the gift basket and can't believe I'm going to use it, but I might as well. I mean, my skin will be soft, right? And hey, there's a cool ass loofa.
I sprinkle the lavender bubble bath in the tub, sink in and let the day wash off me. Life has been good, uneventful, and I've really enjoyed not doing the Aiden-Eli shuffle. Not having them clouding my head has been a huge relief. I also know that as long as I can keep them both away from me I'll be fine. I can't let them near me, I can't let them in.
INK: Sketches (Book 0 - parts 1 & 2) Page 13
